Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Bailey
It only dawns on me afterward, with Beau’s body weight still on mine, my hands idly stroking his warm, smooth skin, that he’s the first man I’ve slept with since Kirk. Not really by design. It’s not like Kirk had any great sexual hold on me, or whatever.
But after him, I had no interest in getting involved with anyone else, and that’s usually a prerequisite for sex.
‘You know, this is a first for me.’
He pushes up to look down into my eyes and something in my chest flexes. A recognition. I know what we just shared is meaningless, but there’s something about Beau that calls to me anyway. A goodness, a decency, that I’d lost faith in finding.
‘Sex?’ he teases, slipping right back into that joking persona of his. And I’m glad. The last thing I want is to fall into that trap of having some kind of deep and meaningful.
‘Sex, with no strings, with someone I barely know.’
‘Well, now, we’ve already agreed we’re going to get to know each other,’ he points out.
I ignore the warning siren that quickly bursts through me.
Getting to know each other can exist outside the bounds of sex.
And if it can’t, if it seems like things are getting messed up, then I’ll just walk away.
Shut this side of things down. After Kirk, I’ll never need anyone again. Not like I let myself with him.
‘That’s true,’ I say. ‘In a professional capacity, anyway.’
He grins. ‘Sure, if you say so.’
I ignore it. And that pesky little warning siren. ‘But I guess for you, this is pretty much part of your post-event celebration?’
Something shifts in his expression. Something I don’t know how to interpret, because it’s a different reaction for him. ‘Nah, not these days.’
I arch a brow. ‘You’re saying it’s not a different girl every night?’
He laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘Maybe once upon a time. I leave that to the young guys on the tour now.’
‘You’re twenty-eight,’ I point out. ‘Hardly a grandfather.’
‘For this sport, it’s getting up there.’
That really bothers him. There’s a defensiveness in his tone, a panic too, that’s completely at odds with his usual carefree manner.
‘So you’re saying you’re like a born-again virgin or something?’ I can’t resist teasing, trying to bring a little levity back to the conversation.
But he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, then rolls off me, onto his back, staring at the ceiling. I angle my face so I can see him.
‘I’m not a saint,’ he says slowly. ‘I hook up with women, sometimes. But not as often as you’d think if you’ve read some of the shit that’s written online. And I’m guessing you have, because I know you’ve done your research.’
I don’t think about why his explanation spreads warmth through me. ‘There’s a fair bit about you out there,’ I admit.
He turns to face me, expression neutral, those beautiful eyes awash with something that makes me feel kind of gooey.
I practically choke at the description. I’m a journalist. The daughter of a Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist, with my own dreams of one day taking out that honour, and I just described my feelings as ‘gooey’?
Mortification has my toes curling. Then again, if the shoe fits …
‘It blew up after the whole ranch social media thing.’
‘Do you mind?’
‘Nah. The people who know me know the truth. They’re the only ones I give a shit about.’
I smile at that.
‘What?’
‘It’s just … a very healthy way to look at things.’
‘Aw, shucks. That almost sounds like a compliment, Bailey James.’
‘I think it might have been.’ I move then, bringing my body over his, propping myself up on one elbow. ‘Want another one?’
‘Hey, why not?’
I press a finger to the middle of his chest and slowly, painfully slowly, snake it lower, down his ridged abdomen. ‘You’re really, really good at this.’
His brows shoot up and then he’s laughing, throwing his head back and letting the sound fill the room and my soul.
‘I mean, I kinda hoped you would be, but you never can tell with men like you.’
‘Men like me?’
‘You know, men who might be too big for their boots.’
He grins. ‘Is that what I am?’
‘Well, no, but I mean, you could be. Given how you look, and what you’ve achieved …’
‘You know, you’re making this compliment sound more like an insult.’
I grin. ‘Then let’s quit while we’re ahead.’
His hand moves to my back, stroking my skin softly. ‘You’re really good at this too.’
His words are like gold dust. It’s something I hadn’t even realised I needed—or wanted—to hear. But I inure myself to the pleasure, because I’ve learned not to trust people who say nice things, who make me feel all warm and happy. Kirk was the master of that, and it was all a lie.
‘I’m rusty,’ I say, wrinkling my nose. ‘It’s been a long time. So long I wasn’t sure I’d remember how everything worked.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ He moves his hand to my breast, circling a nipple possessively, as though he was born to touch me.
I nod jerkily, sensations bursting like lights behind my eyelids.
‘Why’s that, darlin’?’
I don’t know when I stopped minding him calling me darlin’. There’s something about the way he says it that’s pure heat. Something about it that jabs right under my skin and stays there.
‘I work hard,’ I say simply, when it’s not simple.
‘So do I.’ He winks. ‘But there are twenty-four hours in the day …’
‘I’m not interested in relationships.’
‘Nor am I.’
‘Stop doing that.’ I laugh, pressing my fist to his shoulder.
But he moves quickly, rolling me onto my back and trapping me beneath him, so I have no choice but to stare up into his eyes.
My smile drops as other feelings take over.
He is so much bigger and stronger than I am, so much of a man, and the weight of him feels so hot that I can hardly think, much less answer.
‘Did someone break your heart, Bailey?’
My lips part on a breath of surprise. ‘Why would you say that?’
His eyes roam my face, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. ‘Am I wrong?’
I roll my lips, trying to hold the words back. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to speak to agree with him. I move my head slowly, a single, simple nod. Only I don’t want to talk about Kirk, not with Beau. I don’t want to give Kirk the brain space, the room to move. Especially not here.
‘When?’
‘A while ago.’ I clear my throat. ‘Three years.’
He lets out a low whistle.
‘And you’re still hurting?’
I think about that carefully. ‘It’s more … I’m different after Kirk. He taught me lessons I’ll never forget.’
‘Such as?’
I pull my lips to the side. ‘Such as only trust men as far as you can throw them. Which in this case is not very far at all.’
‘You tarring me with the same brush as him?’
‘Don’t take it to heart. It’s my personal mantra and it applies equally to all men.’
‘Ah,’ he says, but there’s a look in his eyes that shows me he wants to argue with me. Or perhaps defend himself. ‘What if I’m nothing like him?’
I lift my shoulders. ‘I won’t be around long enough to find out. And I wouldn’t let myself care, even if I was sticking to your side like glue.’
He’s quiet for a beat; I can practically see the wheels turning. ‘He really did a number on you.’
‘Yeah.’ There’s no sense denying it.
‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘I know that.’ I lift my finger to his cheek, then drop my hand to his shoulder. ‘Because I’m not going to let you.’
‘Or anyone?’
‘Damn straight.’
‘Good girl.’ He surprises me then by smiling and kissing my forehead. ‘You gotta look after yourself.’
He says it like he feels that in the fibres of his DNA. Like he’s practising the same techniques to keep people at arm’s length. He says it like it’s a mantra of his as well.
‘Now, I don’t know about you, but I could eat a whole goddamn horse.
Room service?’ He rolls off me, and it’s like the breaking of a spell, or the temporary lifting of it anyway.
I can breathe again, I can think straight.
Straight enough to realise that I’m hungry, and also relieved.
Relieved that I don’t regret what’s happened between us.
Relieved that I don’t feel bad, or guilty, or like I’ve done the wrong thing.
‘Starving,’ I agree. And though I don’t admit as much to Beau, my stomach had been in knots before his event, so I haven’t even thought of food. Until now. I watch as he strides to the hotel phone and lifts it, then glances back at me.
‘Anything you want? Don’t want?’
‘Whatever.’ I wave a hand in the air. ‘I eat everything.’
His eyes hold mine a moment, lightly teasing, and I realise the double entendre, the sexual promise, and feel a rush of flames rolling through me. A rush of something else too. Madness and temptation. Power.
He starts to talk into the phone, requesting that he be connected to room service.
I move quickly, pushing out of bed and pacing across to him.
He glances my way, apparently on hold. Before he can say anything or guess what I’m doing, I drop to my knees in front of him, my eyes riding up his body, over his toned chest to his eyes, which are staring at me like he’s a starving man in front of a huge plate of food.
‘Don’t let me distract you,’ I sing sweetly, before leaning forward and wrapping my lips around him, teasing him. He stirs immediately, his cock growing hard in my mouth and then filling it, his groan a muttered oath.
He swears and starts to talk. It takes me a second to realise he’s listing food items. His voice is unrecognisable. I move my mouth faster, taking him deeper, and one hand comes to rest at the back of my head, like he wants me to stop, and also desperately needs me not to.