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“I’m not going back there.” Her eyebrows arch. “That’s out of the question.”
“I don’t care about that. If I make it ten seconds, I want you to kiss me.”
Her mouth drops open and that’s the reaction I was hoping for. She stares at me, halfway between a laugh and an angry snort, but her head tilts, and I spot something in her eyes, something sharp and calculating, and her tongue rolls across her lower lip like she’s thinking about me. That look is fascinating and it sends a spike of adrenaline into my chest, and slowly she gives me a sultry smile and touches her mouth with her knuckles like she’s kissing a ring.
“One peck,” she says. “No tongue. Two seconds.”
“I want your taste, princess,” I say, leaning in and speaking into her ear, enjoying the way she’s getting all riled up. “I want tongue and teeth and lips. I want you to moan into my mouth—”
“I amnotgoing to moan, War! What the hell!”
“That’s my offer,” I say, pulling back. “Take it or leave it.”
She considers before nodding. “All right. A real kiss. Ten seconds, which seems only fair.”
I incline my head. “Works for me.”
She shoves her hand out. “Shake on it.”
I take her palm in mine and squeeze. “I can’t wait to feel your tongue on mine, princess.”
She rolls her eyes—but she looks worried.
The bull operator barely looks at me as I get in line. He’s a burly guy in cutoff jean shorts. I wait my turn and watch, paying close attention to the two other men that go before me, both of the younger and drunker than I am. Neither lasts long, but I learn a lot, and by the time it’s my turn and I’m walking awkwardly out to the big, ugly machine, I’m starting to question all my life choices.
But I’ve done worse. I’ve done harder, and uglier, and more embarrassing. I’ve lowered myself to the floor and licked the pavement to get what I want. I’ve lied, cheated, stolen, and hurt people.
I can ride a fucking bull.
I get on the back and spot Melody in the crowd. She’s watching, arms crossed, an intense half smile on her lips like she can’t wait to watch me crash to the floor and fail. I stare back at her, gripping the pommel loosely, and the bull begins to move.
The trick is moving with it. Shifting my hips, keeping my balance centered. It wants to whip back and throw me forward, and I go with it, rolling like I’m riding a wave. Four seconds, five seconds, six seconds, and I’ve already held on longer than most guys, but the bull operator knows his audience, and this crowd doesn’t give a shit about watching some man hang on for dear life. My fingers sink into the slippery leather and I rock forward and get a thick whiff of oiled plastic and spilled beer as the bull writhes and bucks wildly, twisting and spinning fast, and I’m sliding off and cursing now, all tact and strategy forgotten as sheer strength takes over, and seven seconds pass, eight seconds, and I’m slipping off the side and nearly falling, and nine seconds pass, and I spot Melody standing with her mouth open and her tongue against her teeth as ten seconds come and go and I finally let myself fly onto the padding.
“You’ve done that before,” she accuses when I step out of the ring.
“I have,” I confirm with a massive smile. “Do you have any idea how many mechanical bulls there are in Texas? Even rich boys like to slum it sometimes.” Including one particular client five years back. He’d tip me a twenty every time I got up there and rode, the sick bastard. I almost miss him.
Melody groans and her cheeks are bright red, and I know what she’s thinking. A deal’s a deal and a girl like Melody won’t back down just because things didn’t go her way. I steer her to our table and we stand there like we’re in a bubble, away from the rest of the world, and I move close. I put my hand on the small of her back. I want her to think about this, to really feel it. She’s trembling, or maybe that’s me. I smell her perfume, and a bit of hay, and a touch of earth. Her mouth opens, her lips flushed red and lovely.
“Ten seconds,” she says. “No more.” Her voice is thick and sultry.
I lean forward, heart racing, thinking about how badly I want to grip her ass and squeeze. My mouth is inches from hers, and I want her taste, want her tongue and teeth and moans, and my lips brush against hers so softly it’s like a breeze, and I keep going, to her cheek, to her ear.
“You want to know why I need the money?” I whisper. “I’ve been cut off. No cash from Mommy and Daddy. I’m all on my own, and I’ve never been good at doing things the right way. Only the fun way.” I kiss her earlobe and pull away.
She’s staring at me, lips parted, looking like sin and sex wrapped up in heaven. “Really? That’s it? What did you do?”
“That’s another secret for another day,” I say and turn away. “It’s late and I should get going.”
“Wait,” she says, sounding breathless. “What about—”
“The kiss?” I look back at her. “Another time, maybe.”
Her face hardens. “This is your one shot.”
“Then consider yourself lucky. Goodnight, Melody.”
She says nothing as I walk away. My body’s ringing, vibrating with need. I wanted to kiss her so badly it was like chopping off a limb when I bypassed those lips. But I can’t rush things, not right now, not when the situation is so precarious. She could go either way at any moment—but if I push too hard, I’ll scare her and send her running for a second time, and she’ll never come home.
