Her Bull Rider's Baby

by Genevieve Turner

  He released her wrist, set his hand into the notch of her hip, fingers curling round the upper swell of her ass. Such a sweet ass it was too.

  He sank his fingers deep, deep enough to have her gasping. “I gave you a bruise here,” he said, as breathless and rough as her gasp had been. “That third day. Do you remember?”

  A dark purple bloom to mark the ferocity of that night. He’d been absurdly proud to see it the next morning, his basest thoughts howling, She’s mine, see how I’ve marked her. A dangerous impulse, given that there should have been nothing permanent between them.

  “I remember.” Lil’s hand slipped between them, slid down to his upper thigh, squeezed hard. “I gave you a bruise too. Right here.” Her fingers dug even deeper. Her other hand found his bicep, tested the muscle there. “And I bit you here.”

  He couldn’t hold back his groan since he did remember, her mouth hard and mean and wet there as he thrust deep into her pussy, soft and sweet and wet.

  He lowered his mouth to hers. Just one kiss, just to take the edge off. He could stop after one kiss. A kiss wasn’t technically sex.

  Her lips were silken, her tongue bold, her fingers painfully tight around his arm. He welcomed the ache, rolled his hips into it, because it proved how badly she wanted him, how deep her need for him went. Deep enough to dive toward pain.

  His own fingers tightened on her hip, pulled her into him. The moan she gave vibrated down his own throat, so closely were their mouths joined.

  Take her to the bed. Get those clothes off.

  She was already unbuttoning his shirt, her hand slipping inside. Her fingers found one of his nipples and pinched.

  He took her bottom lip gently between his teeth, a promise that he’d pay her back in kind for that. Just as soon as he got her shirt—

  “No.”

  He tightened his grip on her hip.

  “No.” And she took a step back, her gaze clear, defiant.

  That expression had set him aflame in Vegas. When she’d said she wanted him, wearing that expression, he knew she meant just that. She wanted him. Not because he was a bull rider, not because he’d be a notch in her belt. But simply because she wanted.

  “We agreed,” she reminded him. “And you forgot. This time.”

  A lesson then. Payback for his kiss in the kitchen.

  His temper flared, but he damped it. Just barely. “We—”

  She held up a hand, backed toward the door. “I know. We shouldn’t have.”

  “We couldn’t even hold to that for a day.” He was chiding her as much as himself.

  “Actually, we did.” She wrenched open the door. “We stopped. Or I stopped.”

  “This time.” He could teach some lessons as well.

  Lil snorted. “And the next time too.”

  His head jerked back. “There won’t be a next time.” He would keep his focus. He had to.

  He always won when he kept his head—and he couldn’t bear to lose his child.

  Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. “Yep. It’s all about the baby, right? And our bargain.” Her tone was sharp enough to slice open a tin can.

  Adriano couldn’t argue with that. “Yep. What time is the appointment again?” Not quite as sharp as her tone, but sharp enough.

  “Ten.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.” She shut the door hard enough to let him know she was pissed, but not really a slam.

  He sank down onto the bed, looked around at the room that was now his. His first night here and they’d already almost fallen into bed and gotten into an argument. So much for showing her how well he could care for her. Or their child.

  If there was a worse omen for his victory here, he didn’t want to see it.

  The next morning, Lil set her forehead against the goat’s flank, the coarse hair scratchy against her skin while the warm, musty smell of goat filled her nose. The milk went hiss-hiss-hiss against the stainless steel bucket as her fingers worked, milking in the pearl-gray light of dawn. The doe munched contentedly at her feed, happy enough to stand still.

  Lil was content enough herself. Morning chores did that to her: milking the goats, feeding the chickens, checking the drip on the garden and the orchards, ensuring that her little slice of the ranch was running smoothly. After her coffee, she’d go to her office and ensure that the bigger slice of the ranch—the stock operations—was running smoothly as well.

  Too bad her personal life was a tangled mess. They shouldn’t be sleeping together, not at all. But damn it, she still wanted to. Her body recognized his in a way that seemed to go deeper than instinct.

  She was reminded of something she’d heard during sex ed in high school: Sex is for a night, but a baby is forever.

  It was meant to scare them into being responsible—or to not have sex at all—but it was true. She’d had Adriano for herself for three nights. And now she’d have his baby for the rest of her life.

  If she kept her head, convinced him she was right, it could be her daughter doing this with her one day. Every day.

  She sighed and burrowed her head a little deeper into the doe’s side. The doe held steady, firm, a warm comfort on that morning.

  Lil finished the milking, put the doe away, poured the milk into the pasteurizer, and cleaned out the bucket. She’d make cheese with this milk, she decided.

  Rufio came bounding by as she left the milking barn, chasing after a crow that had dared to land too close. The crow cawed back at the dog and hopped into the nearest pepper tree, beak open wide as it silently laughed at the still-barking dog.

  She took a deep breath of the chill morning air, needing this meditation of chores and livestock and cool gray skies before she started her workday. This had been her routine since she’d been seven, old enough to begin caring for the stock. And she still did it today. Just as her father had before her and his father before him.

  The crunch of gravel came from behind her and she turned.

  Adriano walked toward her, dressed much as she was—heavy work jacket, jeans, and boots. Only he was wearing a black Stetson, and she was bareheaded. God, but he looked good, hips swiveling, a dusting of stubble scattered across his high cheekbones and that blade of a jaw.

  “Morning,” he said softly. There wasn’t much hesitation in him today—more like resignation.

  “Morning,” she said in return, mirroring him. She wasn’t certain where to go in all this herself. It was too nice a morning for scrapping. And sniping at him was bad for her meditative state. “Want to help me collect eggs?”

  He nodded and they headed off to the chicken coop. Her hens were happily pecking at the scraps of apple she’d given them earlier, hardly even noticing that she was stealing their eggs. The shells were brown and cool as she dug in the straw for them, handing them to Adriano to slip into his pockets.

  “When I was young, this was one of my jobs on the ranch,” he said, his accent thick. He did that when he talked about his home, let his English slip closer to his native tongue.

  “Me too. My first one, actually.”

  They shared a smile.

  “I can fry some of those up for you, if you like.” She latched the coop behind her. No need to mention that it could be their child collecting eggs from this very coop one day. He was smart—she could leave it unspoken and he’d still hear.

  “And yourself?”

  She started for the house. “Oh, I usually just have coffee.”

  He caught up to her, frowning. “Doesn’t that have caffeine?”

  Crap. “Can I not have coffee?” She’d never survive the next few months without coffee. It was inhuman to expect her to.

  “The book says—”

  She held up a hand. “Please God, not the book.”

  “The book says,” he went on with a grim look, “that you should not have caffeine. And you have to eat regular meals. Preferably six small ones a day.”

  She’d be eating all day at that rate. There’d be no time for anything else.
“How about this? I’ll eat breakfast as long I can have some coffee with it. And that will be the only coffee I drink all day.” She’d have a bitch of a headache come the afternoon, but it wouldn’t hurt to cut back a bit.

  He opened the door for her, still scowling. “We’re not negotiating about this—you’re definitely having breakfast. But I suppose one cup of coffee in the morning can’t hurt.”

  Wow, how magnanimous of him. “Look at us. Our first compromise,” she said dryly.

  A smile played at the edge of his mouth. “Where do you want the eggs?” he asked.

  “Just here on the counter. I’ll cook them up for us.”

  “Will the cooking be dangerous like last night?”

  She laughed. Oh, he was adorable like this. She’d never thought he could be. “No, it will be perfectly safe. How do like your eggs? Mine, I go for over easy, with some toast to mop up the yolk.”

  “But the book says—” He stopped at her look. “What I meant was, is it safe for you to have uncooked eggs?”

  She was about to tell him of course, then caught herself. All these restrictions on pregnant women seemed so silly—but there were so many. What if there was something to some of them? And how did you decide which were the ones you ought to follow?

  If she went by everything in Adriano’s book, she wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.

  But eggs were kind of tricky. These were probably safer than commercial eggs—but they’d still come out of a chicken’s butt.

  Their kid would definitely be safe if he or she lived with him. No dangerous eggs on any of Adriano’s plates.

  “Let’s scramble them,” she decided. “And put some smoked salmon in. And little bit of…” She went to the fridge, rummaged in it. “Oh yeah, a little bit of this goat cheese. Add some toast and fruit and it’s a completely balanced meal.”

  She motioned him away from the stove and set about cooking the eggs, putting some slices of bread into the toaster between stirs.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Can you get some of the cherries from the bowl there and wash them?”

  He went to work himself, the two of them settling into an easy silence. She poked at the eggs, checked their consistency. A few more seconds and they’d be ready. The toaster chimed. Perfect. It was all coming together.

  Adriano was putting the cherries into a bowl, stealing one as he did, his teeth flashing white as he tugged it from the stem. “Wow, these are good.”

  “Those are descended from trees my great-great-grandma cultivated. She developed that variety.” Lil didn’t bother to keep the pride from her voice. “Right here on this very ranch.”

  He stole another, leaving a smear of red across his bottom lip. She could clean that up with her tongue if they hadn’t instituted that no-sex rule.

  “Is this the ancestor who had no time to sleep?” A teasing note made the words rough.

  “Yep.” She didn’t rise to the bait—Grandma Cat had been a tough lady, no matter what Mr. Adriano Silva thought. “Eggs are ready.” She divided them between two plates and set the toast on the side.

  She spooned some on her toast, took a bite. Mmm. That was good. She took a sip of coffee, black and strong. That was even better. She gave a happy sigh. There was nothing better than simple food well prepared.

  Adriano raised his mug to her. “My compliments.”

  “Thank you.” She took another big bite. Maybe she should eat breakfast more often. This was nice, having something filling to wash her coffee down with. Although she only got the one cup today. And for the next several months.

  Before she could cry at that thought, she asked him, “What are you going to do this morning? I’ve got to work before the doctor’s appointment.” The question felt weird, like he was her kept man or something, but she didn’t think he’d be happy rattling around the house, and he didn’t seem the type to watch much TV.

  “Is there a gym nearby?” He kept his eyes on his plate, probably as embarrassed as she. “I ran this morning, but I’ll need to find a weight room eventually.”

  He’d already run this morning? He must have woken up earlier than she had. “There’s a gym next to the garage with weights and stuff. Luke uses it.” Adriano’s grimace told her what he thought about sharing a gym. “He won’t mind if you use it though.” If Luke did, she’d have a talk with him.

  “Thank you.” His grimace didn’t quite die. “And thank you for the breakfast.” That was more sincere.

  She drained her cup of coffee—her last cup for the day—and nodded. “No problem.”

  Their gazes met—and the air between them ignited. Her heart began to pound, her skin tingling, and her mind only bent on closing the gap between them, pressing her mouth against his.

  No. Hell, she was in deep trouble here if only looking at him could send her off like this. Speaking of sending off…

  She backed toward the door. “I’ve got to go. Just leave your plate in the sink”—her back met the edge of the counter and she gave a little grunt—“and I’ll see you back here in a few hours. I’m sure you can find the gym.”

  He watched as she backed away from him, silent, intent—which wasn’t really helping matters.

  Her fingers found the knob, wrenched the door open. “Later.”

  She practically ran out the door but couldn’t quite escape the desire still pulsing through her blood.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The doctor’s waiting room was weird.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. It made Adriano feel weird, filled with women carrying huge bellies, beaming husbands next to them, rings glinting on their fingers. The couples all had their heads together, laughing about names and baby gear and what their babies would be like when they finally arrived.

  Lil’s belly was flat, her finger bare, and Adriano hadn’t said more than two words to her the whole time, his mouth numb with unease. No happy cooing for them.

  She flipped through the stack of paperwork she had to fill out, sighing as she did. The size of it made it look more like a novel than a medical history.

  Her pen hovered over a question. “Are there any genetic diseases in your family?”

  He blinked as if coming out of a bad dream. “What?”

  “Genetic diseases: cystic fibrosis, Tay-Sachs, things like that.”

  How the hell would he know? This was an entirely different world, the diseases carrying strange names. Names a doctor had given them. Doctor’s visits had been rare when he was growing up, reserved only for serious, life-threatening things.

  His mother’s illness had come on just after he’d left for the States, so his sisters had been the ones to navigate her through all those doctor’s appointments. Although Adriano had paid for it. Once he was home, he would help more, as a proper son should. And hurry up the transplant if he could.

  A few years more. A few dollars more.

  But first, to get through this appointment. And prove to Lil that the child should be with him.

  “I don’t know about any of those diseases.” He hadn’t meant to sound so short, but his jaw wouldn’t unclench. The soft music piping through the ceiling wasn’t helping—it was just bland enough to be irritating.

  “Okay. We’ll mark no for that.” Her pen scraped across the paper.

  “My mother has kidney disease.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but he closed his mouth too late to trap the words there.

  “Ah. Does she have to go for dialysis?” Lil got all soft when sympathy took over her expression. He liked it, seeing as how she was so rarely soft.

  “Yes. My sisters take her.” He paid for it, yes—but he could still be there, helping more.

  “Can she get a transplant?”

  “She’s on the list, but…” He blinked. He mustn’t tear up in the doctor’s office. “Well, of course I want it to happen now. She will though. Soon enough.”

  All false assurance that. No matter how he tried, the deepest part of him was convinced he would return home
too late.

  Lil set her hand on his forearm. “I’m sure she’ll get the transplant in time.”

  But there was something in her gaze, something holding her back.

  She thought he was manipulating her here.

  He turned his gaze to the floor. This stupid bargain was tainting everything. He was being sincere, and she thought he was only being a cunning asshole.

  “What else do you want to know?” he ground out.

  “The next question is—Oh.” She nibbled on the end of the pen, sent him a wary glance. “Is your father still living?”

  Why would the doctor need to know that? “No.”

  She dropped the pen from her lips. “Oh. I’m so sorry. How did he die?”

  Was this for the medical history? Or did she want to know?

  “An industrial accident.” Her gaze went limpid, sympathetic, urging him on. “He worked in the interior. I didn’t see him much as I was growing up. I hardly knew him.”

  “I am sorry. I wish you could have known him.” She made a note on the clipboard.

  He clenched his fists around the arms of the chair. So it was just for the doctor then. He shouldn’t have said that last bit; the doctor didn’t need to know that. It made Adriano sound like some sad, penniless, foreign orphan, and he certainly wasn’t that.

  Her pen moved on the next question and stopped. “Um. It wants to know if we’re living together.”

  “Of course we are.” Hadn’t they shared breakfast this very morning?

  “But is that what they mean?” She hesitated and his frown deepened. What else could it mean? “We’re not sharing a bed,” she clarified.

  “And we won’t be.” Even though their interlude in the kitchen had left him half erect for the rest of dinner, which had made it damn difficult to carry on a conversation with her brothers.

  And then after, in his room… When she’d slammed the door behind her, he’d been simmering from their kiss and their fight. So he’d slipped the tongue of his belt loose, let the heavy buckle hang free. A flick and a jerk had his fly open, and he’d pulled his cock through the opening in his boxers, not even taking the time to pull any of his clothes down. He wrapped his fist around his hard-on as tightly as she would have. Or maybe not even as tightly—she was all fire and fury when she came at him, nothing tentative or hesitant in her touch. He’d loved that she was the one woman who met his physicality measure for measure.