Chapter SixteenThe Final Showdown
The Las Vegas rodeo turns out to be an incredible experience, and nobody mentions Brock or Maddie.
They've become pariahs in the rodeo world.
But Jo and I are on fire everywhere we go, setting our own records as well as PRCA records too.
All the drama and stress of the past few months has been burned away, leaving only pure skill and determination.
Jo sets another barrel racing record---her third this season---while I manage to stay on a bull that's sent five other cowboys to the dirt in under four seconds.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Buck's voice echoes across the arena as I dust myself off, "that's an eighty-nine point ride for Clay McKendrick! That puts him in first place going into the final round!"
The crowd goes crazy. Jo leaps to her feet, hat in the air, whooping like a wild woman. The sight of her celebrating my success makes me start whooping too.
After the competition ends, we meet up behind the stock pens, away from the crowds and cameras. Adrenaline still courses through my veins, but I feel something else too---a sense of completion that has nothing to do with scores.
"We make a hell of a team, don't we?" Jo says, leaning against the fence rail. Her hair's come loose from her ponytail, and I see a smudge of dirt on her cheek from where she hugged me. "You ride the broncs and bulls to record times while I rock the barrel racing and team roping."
"We're the best for sure," I agree, reaching out to brush the dirt away with my thumb. "Think we can keep this up for the next fifty years or so?"
Her eyes widen slightly at the implication, and her lids flutter. "Fifty years? That's a long time, McKendrick."
"Not long enough." Looking at her now---flushed with victory, eyes sparkling with happiness---I can't imagine a future that doesn't have her in it. Jo Callahan has become my other half, my soul mate, and I don't care how corny that sounds.
"Clay?" Jo's voice pulls me back to the present. She's watching me with those keen green eyes that don't miss a thing. "Where'd you go just now?"
I take her hand, running my thumb over her engagement ring---the real one I bought her last month, not the costume jewelry we used for show. "Just thinking about how different things would be if Sterling hadn't tried to sabotage us."
She nudges me with her shoulder, smiling softly. "You mean if we'd never faked an engagement?"
"Exactly."
Once we're done for the day, We head back to our hotel, where a sexy suite awaits us.
The view out the floor to ceiling windows is stunning, and a huge bed offers silk sheets and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket.
Neither of us needs to express our desires out loud.
We strip naked and jump into bed, raring to go, so hot for each other that I swear steam is coming out of my ears.
Jo's skin feels like silk beneath my hands as I pull her against me, months of tension and uncertainty dissolving into pure need.
Her mouth finds mine, hungry and demanding, and I lose myself in the taste of her---sweet victory mixed with something uniquely Jo that I've been craving since that first night in her truck.
"God, Clay," she breathes against my lips, her fingers tangling in my hair. "I've been wanting this all day, watching you ride that bull like you owned the world."
"That turned you on big time, hey?" I trail kisses down her throat while I explore every curve of her body that I've memorized in my dreams. She arches beneath me, every soft sound she makes driving me closer to the edge.
She lightly scrapes her nails over my shoulders. "Nothing sexier than a cowboy who knows how to handle eight seconds of fury." Her voice catches as I slide between her thighs, finding her already slick and ready for me. "Oh God, yes, ride me like a wild bull, Clay. Fuck me hard and never stop."
"Damn, baby, I need to come inside you so bad.
" But force myself to take my time exploring every inch of her luscious body, savoring every gasp and shudder as I circle her clit with my finger and rub my palm into her cleft.
She's already so wet that her juices coat my skin, and the scent of her drives me crazy.
The way she responds to my touch, so open and uninhibited, makes my own need almost painful.
"Clay, please," she begs, her hips rising to meet my hand. "I need you inside me."
"Patience, darlin'," I whisper against her breast before pulling a nipple into my mouth. The taste of her skin, salty and sweet in a way that's purely Jo, drives me wild. "We've got all night."
"Don't want patience. Want you fucking me now ."
I rise onto my knees, my stiff cock waving like a flagpole, and roughly flip her over.
Then I give her sweet ass a slap. She gasps.
I position myself above her, holding my dick in position, and finally thrust inside her deeply.
"Christ, Jo, you feel incredible. So fucking wet, so velvety smooth, my cock fits inside you like a glove. "
I set a fast rhythm, clutching her hips, pounding into her hard while she cries out over and over, begging me to never stop.
I grunt and growl and slam into her even harder and faster while the wet slapping every time our bodies collide fills the air.
The champagne sits forgotten as we lose ourselves in each other, months of pretending and uncertainty finally giving way to something real and raw and completely honest.
"I love you," she gasps, wrapping her legs around my hips, her need becoming more urgent. "Not for the cameras, not for the contracts. Just...you."
Those words push me over the edge in a way I never expected. Her inner muscles clench around me in pulsating waves, and I slide one hand between us to circle her clit as I growl, "I love you too, Jo. Always have."
Her back arches gracefully as she comes apart beneath me, her inner walls pulsing around me so tightly that I can't hold back anymore.
I follow her over the edge, her name torn from my lips as pleasure crashes through me in a tidal wave of ecstasy.
I collapse on top of her, then roll over so she can lie on top of me.
We're both breathing hard as I wrap my arms around her, holding her close like I'm afraid she might disappear.
For a long moment, we simply lie here, hearts racing in tandem while the neon lights of Vegas paint patterns across our skin through the window.
"Well," Jo says eventually, her voice muffled against my neck, "I think we just set another record."
I chuckle, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Best eight seconds of my life, and that's saying something."
She lifts her head to look at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Only eight seconds? Cowboy, you're selling yourself short."
"Alright, maybe it was more like eight minutes," I concede, running my fingers through her tangled hair. "But who's counting?"
"I am," she says, settling more comfortably against me. "And I plan to keep very detailed records from now on."
The playful banter feels natural, easy in a way our relationship never has been before. No cameras, no contracts, no schemes---just us, genuinely devoted to each other.
I kiss her one more time, slowly, sensually. "So tell me Jolene, what do you want? Big ceremony, small gathering, elopement in Vegas while we're here? It's your call."
Jo's fingers trace the line of my jaw, her touch so tender that it makes my throat go thick. "I want something that feels like us. Not too fancy, not too plain. Somewhere with horses and family and the smell of hay in the air."
"The ranch," I suggest, picturing the oak tree by the creek where generations of McKendricks have carved their initials. "Just like we talked about before."
Her eyes light up. "Under that big oak tree with the mountains in the background. Simple, but perfect."
"Just like you."
She laughs, wrapping her legs around my waist. "Who knew Clay McKendrick was a smooth talker?"
"Only for you, darlin'."
Spending the rest of my life with this woman might be a life sentence, but it's one I'll gladly serve.