Chapter 9 #2
‘Another time, I need you to explain to me how and why. You looked as though you owned that bull. Like he was afraid of you—and pissed as hell about it.’
I laugh again, the sound coming from deep in my throat.
‘Yeah, he was pissed alright.’
She sips her wine, then places it on the counter. ‘Does it hurt?’
My eyes probe hers. ‘Losing?’
‘You didn’t lose,’ she says with a wave of her hand. ‘And I mean the ride itself.’ Her eyes drop to my body, undertaking the same inspection I’d just carried out. Looking for bruises, sign of physical pain.
‘More than it used to,’ I say, putting my wine glass down next to hers and keeping my tone light.
As though the expiration date of my career doesn’t keep me up at night.
I know some guys ride well into their thirties, some even their forties, but the toll this is taking on me is something I’m critically aware of.
I won’t be going for another ten years. Probably not even another five.
She moves then, taking a step toward me, a tentative look in her eyes as she slowly lifts her hand to my chest. Like she’s waiting for me to pull away, or to tell her not to touch me.
Maybe she wants me to do that, to put an end to this.
To be sensible enough for both of us. But not touching Bailey has quickly become a form of torture.
I’d prefer not to keep feeling that way.
Her touch is so light, it’s barely there. I move closer toward her. Her eyes flick to mine; she sucks in a sharp, sudden breath.
‘You scared, Bailey?’
She shakes her head slowly from side to side. ‘Nope.’
Something surges inside of me. A mix of relief and heat.
The hand on my chest is suddenly less tentative, as a fire seems to take hold of her.
She pushes me back toward the bed, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as I sit on the edge and lift both hands to her hips, holding her right there, between my legs.
The towel is dangerously placed, but I don’t give a shit.
‘Remember what I said last night?’
I rack my brain but don’t need to answer. She jumps right ahead.
‘This doesn’t mean anything. I’ve got plans for my life, and they don’t involve you.
’ She says it in a lighthearted way, almost like she’s teasing herself.
As if she’s embarrassed I might think this is serious or something.
Yet I can’t help but wonder about her plans, can’t help wanting to know more, even as need is surging through my body like a summer storm.
‘Goddamn it, you’re cute when you’re laying down the law.’ I grin, to defuse the effect she’s having on me. Honestly, it halfway scares the hell out of me, how much I want this woman.
‘I meant what I said the other day too.’
‘Let’s just agree you always mean what you say.’
A smile flits across her face.
‘This is seriously frowned on for a reporter. I would love to not be doing this, you know.’
‘Well, the door’s right there.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘I think that horse has bolted, don’t you?’ She glances down at my barely covered lap, making her meaning abundantly clear. ‘But no one can know about this. No one. It’s hard enough for me to be taken seriously as it is—’
I frown. ‘Now, why’s that, Bailey James?’
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
I lift a single brow, silently pushing her.
She curves her hand over my shoulder. ‘Do we have a deal?’
I know we’ll come back to my question later, because I don’t wanna let it go. I move my hands to the lowest button of her shirt, holding her gaze as I begin to unfasten it, so I see the second her breath hitches in her throat and a pretty pink colour stains her cheeks.
‘Do you have anything to add?’ she asks, but the question comes out strangled and breathless.
I move to the next button. ‘You’ve already covered off the things I care about.’ I glance up at her eyes. ‘I don’t do serious. Never have, probably never will. If you’re up for a good time, no strings, I’m your man.’
‘That’s exactly what I’m after,’ she says on a rushed exhalation. ‘Easy, no promises, no drama.’
‘No promises except for this one?’ I prompt, grinning up at her.
‘Well, yeah.’ She smiles back at me. My chest twists with heat. God, but she’s stunning.
‘Now that we’ve got that out of the way …’ She moves to straddle me, knees on the mattress, either side of my body. ‘Kiss me, cowboy, and don’t you dare fucking stop.’
I don’t need to be asked twice.
She might have laid down the law with this, but from the second she asks me to kiss her, I take charge, my hands moving to her head, holding her steady, my fingers pushing into her thick, silky hair, holding her so I can kiss her until we’re both panting and breathless, my tongue rolling with hers, desperate to taste her, to feel all of her.
She cries into my mouth, juts her hips over my towel.
My cock is so hard, seeking her out, needing to push deep inside of her.
‘Clothes. Way too many clothes,’ I point out, as my hands push under the fabric of her shirt, connecting with her naked back, feeling her skin and practically rejoicing in the soft perfection of it.
I reach up to her bra strap and unhook it, then drop my hands to her butt, lifting her just high enough so that I can lay her down on the mattress and kneel over her.
The towel loosens then drops, so I’m fully naked, and her hands move quickly to roam first my back, on either side of my spine, and then my ass.
She curves her fingertips over it, kneads it, feels it as though she’s learning me, inch by inch.
‘You’ve stopped,’ she complains, and I grin, realising she’s right.
I have stopped kissing her. I’m just feeling—feeling how good her hands are on my body, how good her body feels beneath my hands, how good every inch of this is.
‘Don’t stop,’ she implores, digging her heels into the mattress and lifting her hips, inviting me to take her.
Clothes continue to be the problem though.
I act quickly, undoing her shirt first, separating it and then dispensing with the bra—thank god I’d had the foresight to undo it already.
The fabric slides from her body easily enough so she’s naked from the waist up.
I don’t waste a second looking, even though my gaze is hungry to take her all in.
There’ll be time for that later. Right now, my hands need to touch, my mouth needs to taste.
I drag my lips across her collarbone, then lower, running my tongue across the valley between her breasts, choosing one breast to taste first, to circle her nipple with my tongue before sucking it deep in my mouth.
She jerks hard against me, and cries my name into the room.
I bite back a smile before moving to the next one, as my hands surf lower, to the waistband of her pants.
I unfasten them as quickly as I can, given all my focus is on the fullness of her breasts.
I drag my mouth lower, over her stomach, worshipping kisses against her skin, as my hands push her trousers and thong down her legs, until she’s as naked as I am, but so much prettier.
My mouth drops back to her stomach, swirling circles with my tongue, then moves lower, as my eyes flit to hers so I can see her reaction when I push my tongue against her seam, tasting her wet heat, her desperation for me. ‘Fuck, you taste so good,’ I almost complain.
She pushes up onto her elbows and stares at me, her lips moving with no words coming out.
‘Want me to stop?’ I ask.
Her eyes go wide as she shakes her head wordlessly.
I laugh a little, a hoarse, throaty sound, at the idea of having rendered Bailey James speechless. But it’s a laugh I press against her sex as I go back to kissing her right where she needs it.
‘Tell me what you want, baby,’ I say, even when I know she’s barely able to form a sentence.
‘This,’ she moans, surprising me. Her voice is loud, desperate. Close. My cock jerks hard, heat builds in my balls. I move my hands around to curve beneath her ass, lifting her up, holding her hard against my face so I can devour her, so there’s no escape from this wave of madness, from passion.
‘Beau.’ She says my name like it’s five syllables, long and guttural, drawn from deep within her soul.
I grip her ass and keep going, stroking her until she can’t bear it, until she’s suddenly saying my name fast, over and over, like a whip cracking through the air.
Her hand reaches out to steady herself on my shoulder, her nails digging into me, but a single glance at her face shows that she’s riding on cloud nine, in a state of sheer, unadulterated euphoria.
It’s a moment I commit to memory. The sight of her, the smell, the taste, the feel of her skin against my palms, the sheer, sublime surrender to our chemistry—finally. It’s only been a few days, but right now it feels as though I’ve been waiting all my life for this.
I hold her steady as she rides the wave, her body trembling all over, her breasts pert, nipples hard.
Slowly her breathing starts to steady, her eyes look a little less fevered, and she opens her mouth to speak.
But before she can say anything, I drop my head back down and pick up right where I left off, my tongue lashing her hard, my hands holding her to me, until she’s coming all over again, quicker this time, harder too.
‘I’m gonna like driving you crazy, baby,’ I say honestly against her, moving my mouth to her hip and sucking there, until a small, pink mark forms. I pull away and kiss it lightly.
‘You— are— way too good— at— this—’ she pants into the room, before flopping back onto the bed.
I grin as I crawl up her body, my weight held off her with my arms.
‘Oh, but we’ve barely even started.’
She stares up at me, almost in a state of panic. ‘You’re kidding?’
‘That’s just an entrée.’
Heat spreads from her cheeks to her chest. ‘Show me,’ she says, with the trademark courage and daring I’ve come to recognise in her. ‘Show me everything.’