Chapter 14
Fourteen
Macklin
I’m outside in the barn because the house is too quiet without her. Last week, I brought Baylor here from the hospital and held her while we caught a few hours of sleep. Now, the bed, the entire fucking house feels empty without her.
I’m just finishing my workout when I hear tires on the gravel driveway. Moving to the barn door, I peer out and have to blink a few times to make sure my mind’s not playing tricks on me, but it’s her. Baylor is here.
Pushing open the door, I walk outside, and the cool night air hits my heated, sweat-soaked skin. I probably should have put on a shirt, but I’m not willing to risk her knocking on the house door and thinking I’m not home. It’s just a little January chill. I’ll be fine.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I call out to her.
Her eyes widen, and they roam over my bare chest as she makes her way toward me. “You should have a coat on,” she scolds.
“Then come inside where it’s warm.” I nod toward the door, and she follows me back into the barn.
“Wow, this is not what I expected.”
“No?”
“This is not a barn, Macklin. This is a man cave.” She slowly scans the room.
I chuckle. “Maybe a little. I needed a place to work out and to store all my buckles, as well as a place to practice,” I say, pointing to the mechanical bull in the back corner of the shop, because she’s right—it’s not really a barn. But I’m a cowboy, so that’s what I call it.
“What you got there?” I ask, pointing to the container in her hands.
“Oh, right. The reason I’m here. I helped Courtlynn bake cookies. Well, I watched and stole dough while she was baking, but she made a ton, so I thought I’d bring you a sweet treat.”
She hands me the container, and I immediately pull off the lid and bring it to my nose. “These smell so good. Chocolate chip?”
“Chocolate chip walnut. Your favorite, right?”
I’m grinning like a fool because on one of our many chats, our favorite cookies came up, and she remembered mine.
She’s cataloging details about me, and that’s a big fucking win in my book.
Snatching a cookie out of the container, I take a huge bite and moan.
“So good,” I say, speaking with my mouth full.
My mother would be so disappointed in me right now.
“So, you were working out?” she asks, her eyes bouncing around the room.
“I was. The house was too quiet.”
“I can see you and the guys hanging out here.” She smiles, her eyes still taking it all in.
“We did a lot at first, but once the newness wore off, it kind of phased out.”
“Does that thing actually work?” She points to the mechanical bull.
“It does.” I nod. “Want to try it?”
She turns to look at me over her shoulder, and the “Yes” that flies out of her mouth isn’t necessary. Her grin would have been answer enough.
“Hop on,” I tell her.
“Wait. Don’t I need, like, lessons or rules or something?” She worries her bottom lip as I step up beside her.
I grin. “The rules are, hold on for eight seconds, but don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”
“What happens if I fall off?”
“You land on the dismount mat. I can blow up the inflatable arena if that would make you feel more secure.”
“Maybe I don’t want to do this. Falling is not really on my list of things to do today.”
“Baylor, I’ll go slow. I promise you. You’re not getting injured on my watch.”
“You go first,” she tells me.
“Babe, you do remember that I did this for a living, right?” I point a finger at my chest. “Retired bull rider.”
“I know.” She laughs. “But I’m nervous.”
“It’s not a real bull, Baylor,” I tease.
“Why do you have this? Nostalgia?”
I chuckle. “No, this is what I’d use to practice. This one can get just as rowdy as a real bull, so when I was home between events, or in the off-season, I’d use this a few days a week, and then I’d head over to my buddy Brad’s place to practice with the actual bulls.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. No way will you find me on the back of a real, live bull, Macklin. You could have been hurt. A serious kind of hurt.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek, needing the pain to keep from smiling. My girl’s worried about me. I hung up my spurs and chaps. No more bulls for me, not the real ones, anyway, but it’s nice to see that she cares.
“I’m right here,” I tell her, sliding my arm around her waist. “Now, do you want to try it or not?”
“You go first. I want to watch.”
I smile. “Okay, sweets. Watch and learn.” I stalk over to the bull, hit the power switch, and grab the remote.
I climb onto the bull with practiced ease and grip the bull rope.
I glance over at Baylor, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip again, only this time, it appears to be less worry and more desire, which has my cock thickening in my sweats.
Not exactly comfortable for what I’m about to do.
Hitting the remote, I go at the lowest speed, which is child’s play for me, but I want her to see how fast she’ll be moving. I ride it out for far longer than eight seconds, more like thirty, before I hit Stop on the remote and let go of the bull rope.
“Well?” I ask her. “You ready to try it?”
“I don’t know,” she says, still unsure.
“Come here, Bay. I’ll ride with you. We’ll take it slow. You saw how fast I was spinning.”
“Is it safe for us to be on there at the same time?”
I hold my grin. “It’s safe, or I never would have suggested it. Come on, Moran, what are you afraid of?”
“Falling off and breaking an arm or a leg or both.”
“It’s no different from riding a horse,” I remind her.
“Buckwheat doesn’t try to buck me off,” she sasses.
“Come on. I promise you, it’ll be fine.”
“Fine, but if I break something, you have to be my personal nurse until I heal.”
“Baby, that’s not the threat that you think it is.
” I laugh as I offer her my hand and help her up.
“Relax,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her.
She does, but she immediately stiffens, and I know why.
“You’re here, in my space, riding my bull, baby.
Fuck, Baylor, all you have to do is breathe, and I’m hard for you. Just ignore it.”
“What do I do?” she asks, swallowing hard.
“Hold on to the rope.” I keep my voice steady and calm. “Place your hand next to mine. My arms are around you, Bay. I won’t let you fall.” I’m really surprised she’s this worried about falling when she’s been riding horses her entire life.
I think it’s more than just the bull. That’s not what’s making her nervous. It’s me, and the way she feels about me. She’s fighting our connection when it’s inevitable.
But this? Me this close? My hands on her, my voice in her ear, the way she fits back against me like she was meant to be there.
The way her ass is nestled against my hard cock.
That’s what makes her nervous. She wants me, and she’s fighting it.
This has nothing to do with the mechanical bull or falling off.
I tighten my hold just slightly—not enough to startle her, just enough to remind her I’m here—when the machine gives a low whir beneath us. “You’re overthinking it,” I murmur. “Don’t fight it. Just move with it. Let your body relax and follow the motion of the bull.”
Her head tilts a fraction, leaning against my shoulder. She knows I’m not just talking about the ride.
“I’m not—” she starts, but the bull shifts under us, a slow, testing roll. Her body tenses instantly, shoulders pulling tight, fingers gripping the rope harder.
“Hey,” I say softly, closer now, my lips near her ear. “Relax. Feel it first. Let it show you what it’s going to do.”
She shifts slightly, and my cock throbs, begging for the barrier between us to be removed. Even through two layers of clothing, my reaction to her can’t be masked. Not when she’s sitting this close.
“Like this.” I lean into the turn, encouraging her to follow the motion instead of resisting it.
My hand at her waist presses just enough to remind her that I’ve got her.
She relaxes further. “See? You don’t fight it.
You go with it. Good girl,” I praise, and can hear her suck in an audible breath. My girl likes praise. Good to know.
Her body yields just a little more, following the slow motion of the bull. She’s getting the hang of it.
“That’s it,” I say, quieter now, a note of approval slipping through before I can stop it. “You’re riding like a pro, baby,” I tell her.
She lets out a shaky laugh, somewhere between nerves and something else entirely. “This isn’t so bad, but it’s also really slow. I don’t think I could do faster.”
I smile against her shoulder, though she can’t see it. “You could. I know you could.”
The bull rolls again, a little stronger this time, and she leans back into me. Like it’s instinct, like she trusts me to be there.
And I am.
I always will be.
My grip tightens just enough to steady her, but I don’t hold her back. I let her feel it, figure it out, because she needs to see for herself that she can do this. That she’s already doing it.
But I also don’t miss the way she relaxes inch by inch, the way her movements start to sync with mine, with the rhythm beneath us.
I wish that I could see her face, because this is turning me on like nothing ever has before.
I want to see her blue eyes fill with heat because, with every twist and roll of this damn bull, her ass rises and falls against my cock, which is straining so hard against my boxer briefs and my sweats that it’s painful.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but I need to stop this bull and put a little bit of space between us, as bad as I hate to admit it.
“See?” My voice is low and raspy. “Told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” I say as the bull comes to a stop.
This time, when she leans back, it’s not because the bull made her.
It’s because she chooses to. Her chest is rapidly rising and falling with each breath.
She makes no effort to move, and neither do I.
Instead, I wrap both arms around her, giving up my grip on the bull rope and kissing down her neck.
She tilts her head to the side, giving me room to explore her.