by Tina Leonard
They’d been very young when they’d pulled that stunt, and Mom had been frantic. Ten years old was awfully young to slip out for an all-night-sleepover. Of course, Mom had come to him to rat them out, and he’d manfully sucked it up and not squealed.
His sisters had gotten off with a sigh from Mom and a laugh from Dad.
But he’d ended up having to clean out all the stalls, a ten-hour job, because his sisters “might have been in danger” and he hadn’t told anyone.
Yes, it had been a shitstorm, but it had been a lively and exciting one.
“The thing is,” Rory said, disturbing his reminiscences, “you’re not going to get more peace in your life by trying to control this one. Thinking you can control Cameron is like the only boy in a houseful of lively sisters thinking he can control them. It’s a recipe for disappointment.”
He made a wry face. “I would swear up and down I’m not trying to control Cameron. Why is it wrong to believe that a woman shouldn’t be a bullfighter? It’s dangerous for men with muscles and bigger bodies. And how is it controlling to not want her riding around on patrol, especially when she’s already had her tires stolen?”
“So has Ivy, but you don’t see anyone trying to take the Honky-tonk away from her.”
Saint sighed. Turned the bull up another notch, because Cameron was frantically waving at him to give her more juice.
“What I’m saying is, you’re going to drive Cameron away if you try to drain her spirit.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Training her?”
“But you have to believe in her,” Rory said. “And that’s all the discussion you’re going to have to listen to from me on this subject. It’s just a little expertise from many years of watching human nature from the bench.”
“Thanks, Judge.”
He meant it, too.
“Let me help you just a little. I’m going to make you a hero,” the judge said, reaching over him to goose the speed up real good on the bull. Cameron let out a yell, completely delighted to be rotating like a whirling dervish. There were men who didn’t like to be on that thing at that speed, said it gave them spinning sickness. They were also the ones who claimed the whirling teacups at the state fair gave them vertigo, but Cameron apparently didn’t suffer from that, either.
She was having the time of her life.
“You’re going to have to trust that she knows what she wants in her life,” Rory said, and went off whistling.
Great. He slowed the bull down, then stopped it so she could slide off.
Rory seemed to think she was ready for more than he was giving her, so Saint made a solemn vow to quit being a roadblock.
“That was awesome!” Cameron came over, glowing with happiness.
“You did fine,” he said gruffly. “At least one of us is happy.”
She smiled. “It’s going to be all right. You’ll see.”
He wasn’t so sure. “I enthusiastically support you in your efforts.”
“You do?” She looked at him, surprised.
“You’ll be awesome, just like Judy said.” He sighed. “She’s right more times than not, as much as I hate to admit it.”
“Oh, Judy’s crazy,” Cameron said, laughing. “Everyone in Hell knows that. I’ll be awesome because you’re training me.”
His jaw loosened at this vote of confidence. “I’ll do my best.”
Cameron’s springy hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which was bouncy and sexy as hell and set off her big blue eyes. The exertion had lit up her freckles, and Saint wished like hell he could kiss her.
But he couldn’t, because their relationship was totally professional now. He had to focus.
He couldn’t focus if he was thinking about her sexy ass, her great legs, how his blood went hot when he stroked her lips with his mouth, his tongue.
No, he couldn’t think about that.
“We may drive to Mesquite and watch a rodeo one day. Give you a chance to take notes about the cowboys and the bullfighters. I’ll introduce you to some, let them give you some tips.” He took a deep breath, because it was going to kill him. It really was.
“Thanks, Saint,” she said softly. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”
He nodded, waved goodbye. Retreated to his truck as she went to a truck Steel had lent her, one that they kept around the jail in case they needed to haul stuff. Saint drove off, heading home to let Lucky out, because even though the puppy seemed to like his crate, Saint felt guilty keeping him caged up more than four hours.
The crating bothered him more than it bothered Lucky.
Training Cameron bothered him more than it bothered anyone else. No one could understand that she had him in a constant twist. He worried about her; he wanted the best for her.
He wanted her. To be brutally honest, he wanted her so much he was throwing himself on a pyre of emotional hell.
But he couldn’t train her, not to the ability he knew she had, and seduce her, too. It would be unprofessional, and he’d die a little every time she went into the arena. Now he fully understood why Trace had so steadfastly refused to train Ava; Trace’s heart just couldn’t take the strain.
Neither can mine.
—
Around midnight, Saint heard a knock at his door. He raised a brow, putting down a schematic he was drawing up for Cameron’s training. As he was with any kind of training, he was very deliberate—but this required even more thought than usual. It was going to take several months to get her to a point that cowboys would want her protecting them. Ava had gone up to train with a specialist in Colorado, but Cameron didn’t seem inclined to do that, or she would have asked. Now that she was starting ride-alongs with Steel this week, Cameron’s schedule was stretched pretty thin.
He went to the door, hoping whoever was on the other side didn’t mind rumpled jeans, bare feet, and a worn-out T-shirt, never mind the uncombed hair and day-old stubble. Actually, Judy was probably the only person who would remark on his casual style, but what the hell. Whoever it was should have called first.
He opened the door. “Cameron.” He glanced around her, saw the borrowed truck. “Is everything all right? Is Steel with you?”
“I’m by myself. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Gladly. He backed up, watched her sashay past him as he closed the door.
“I saw your lights on. Thought I’d see if you had a couple of minutes to chat.”
“I can squeeze a couple of minutes free for you.” He watched her go over and pick up his schematic and lists for her training.
“You’re really working hard on this.”
“Anybody I train gets a file, a full plan for their progress.”
She turned to look at him. “I thought maybe you were just trying to appease me.”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I have a reputation to uphold. When I get done with you, you’ll be able to kick bull-ass.” He went to retrieve his whiskey. “Can I offer you a drink?”
She smiled, put the paperwork down. “No thank you. I want you to make love to me.”
He coughed and sputtered on the whiskey. It burned fire down his throat, but not as hot as her words suddenly had him feeling.
“Can’t do that,” he said when he’d caught his breath. “Can’t mess with the student.”
She studied him. “Has it ever occurred to you that you can think up just about any excuse not to make love to me? Not to let yourself get close to me?”
He narrowed his gaze, thinking. “It has occurred to me. It’s a defense mechanism.”
“Maybe you don’t need a defense mechanism.”
“Oh, probably I do.” He sank into the leather sofa. “I can’t have you in my head twenty-four hours a day.”
“How many hours a day am I in there now?”
Well, hell, pretty much all the hours in a day. “I guess I think about you a couple times a day.”
“Okay.” She didn’t look like she quite believed him. “I’m going into your room. I�
�m going to take off my clothes. And then I want you to finish what we started the other night.”
His throat locked up. He couldn’t say a word. All he could do was helplessly watch her walk toward his room as she looked back at him, a sweet smile on her face. Teasing him, inviting him.
Oh, shit.
She wanted him.
This wasn’t good. He could hear his pulse thundering in his throat, heard her close his door with a snick. He shut his eyes, gulped down the rest of his whiskey.
Yeah, maybe he didn’t need any defense mechanisms.
He jumped up off the sofa and strode to the door, throwing it open.
She turned, already down to the pink, scalloped lace covering her breasts, a tiny pink string holding up a slight V of lace between her legs.
Whatever protest he had left in him flew right out the window. He wasn’t going to win any prizes for self-denial. Despite his trophy case full of buckles and other memorabilia, he didn’t have anything like Cameron in his life. Nothing else gave him the rush she did. This woman, this gorgeous body—she was the prize, the gold buckle. He pulled in a deep breath, giving her time to be certain.
“Last chance to back out, beautiful.”
“I’m not much for backing out. Not a quitting kind of girl, if you haven’t noticed.”
Oh, he’d noticed. And thank God she wasn’t, because he had an erection so hard it was only going to go away if he took her.
Cameron noticed the change in Saint’s eyes, the desire tensing his face, his body. She was doing her best to be some kind of confident sex goddess, but never in her life had she ever been a sex goddess, or even close to it, so right now she was pushing the envelope with everything she had. She wanted Saint, but she wanted him to want her, too—as much as she wanted him. “I want you, Saint. I’m hoping you want me, too.” She desperately hoped so. She’d waited a long time to give herself to a man—she wanted her first time to be with him.
“Come here,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her into his arms. Heat exploded inside her body, breaths coming fast and shallow in her throat. It seemed like he was taking a long time to make up his mind, but then he lowered his mouth to hers, and she practically moaned from the desire that warmed her.
“I’ve waited a long time for this,” Saint murmured, and Cameron leaned back in his arms to look into his eyes.
“Why did you wait?”
“I’m not sure I deserve you. Deserve this.” He kissed down her neck to her breasts, removed her bra, groaning hungrily at what was revealed. He took a nipple into his mouth, stroking the other with his thumb. Cameron arched, aching need hitting her fast and hard. She wasn’t a total innocent with men, but nothing had ever felt like this. Never had she felt what she did for Saint, she realized. Saint came back to her mouth, sweeping inside hers. He framed her face with his hands, holding her close like she was something delicate and treasured. “Kiss me, Saint. Hard. I won’t break.”
“I intend to kiss you, all over, babe.” He teased her with a soft kiss, drawing away when she whimpered with urgency. He gently lay her on the bed, leaving her in a puddle of need. Gazing down at her, he pulled his black T-shirt over his head. She stared at the muscles and broad, flat planes of his chest, fascinated, dying to stroke his skin. He undid his belt and tugged off his jeans, revealing black briefs that clung to his thighs and clung to something else that had all her attention now. Holy crap.
Her gaze flew up to meet his. He seemed to know she’d suddenly been hit by a little insecurity, because he got in bed beside her, taking her face in his hands again, and slowly, deliberately stroking her tongue, her lips, her mouth with his. Igniting her all over again, wiping out the fear. She felt the heat again, felt hot wetness blooming as her body ached for his. He never stopped the mesmerizing exploration of her mouth, kissing her breathless, giving her time. She ran a hand along his broad chest, and then over his tight shoulders. She found a scar just over the ridge of muscle in his shoulder, stroked it. Wanted to tell him how grateful she was that they were together right now, that he’d made it home from war alive. That she’d never known a man like him, nor wanted a man the way she wanted him.
Cameron sucked in a breath when Saint’s mouth closed over her breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue, then lightly pinched the other nipple so that it hardened, and tasted that one, too. Cameron closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then stroked her hands over his firm, rounded buttocks, pulling him toward her.
Was met by a length of steel hardness that left her with no doubt of how much he wanted her. He went absolutely still, and she didn’t want that, so she curled a hand around his erection, moaning as she felt him jerk a little, grow harder, at her touch.
“Cameron—”
“Kiss me again,” she said. “Please. Don’t stop kissing me.”
“I’m going to kiss you all night.” His voice sounded very thick, very strained. “But you’re going to have to let go for a minute.”
“Let go of this?” she asked, giving his erection a slight tug. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, for the love of God, let go.”
“Right now?” She laughed softly, enjoying having the upper hand just for a moment. “It feels like you like me holding you, Saint.” She stroked him, enjoying the way his body tightened up. She gasped when he pinned her to the bed and stared down at her.
“Cameron,” he said, and it sounded like he was gritting his teeth, “if you don’t, you’re going to be a very disappointed woman for about twenty minutes.”
Gently, she released him. He drew in a deep, ragged breath, then surprised her when he kissed her mouth hard, urgently. She met him kiss for kiss, eager for his every touch, every caress. His hands roamed over her body, cupping her butt cheeks, stroking a breast—and then suddenly, he slid down one of the pink straps holding up her panties so he could cup her completely bare skin to him. She held tight to his shoulders as he kissed her deeply, stopped in surprise when she felt him stroke a finger along the slit of her sex. He groaned again, that feral groan she loved to hear, and shoved the pink panties off her so hard she felt the strap give. She arched against him, getting as close as she could to him, but his finger simply kept up a maddening, delicious dance, sliding back and forth along her wetness. She tried not to inhale him, crawl into him, but it was almost impossible—she wanted him so much all she could do was hold on. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, and he said, “Not until you scream my name, babe.”
He slid his finger gently inside her, and sensations she’d never felt swept her so hard she gasped against his shoulder. “Oh, God,” she moaned, “Saint!”
He moved down low on her, palming her buttocks in his hands, bringing her close to his face. He kissed her stomach all over, kissed her mound, then licked the tip of her clitoris, shocking her into a tiny scream and making her hips jump, which he took full advantage of, sliding his tongue inside her.
Colors burst behind her eyes. She hung on helplessly, his gentle strokes leaving no part of her sex unexplored, unloved. When his lips closed gently around her bud, her body tightened up uncontrollably, and she exploded, crying out his name as he drank her in, turning her to mush in his arms.
When she couldn’t stand the pleasure another second, Saint seemed to know, setting her carefully on the bed, bringing her gently back to earth for only a moment, as he put on a condom. She tried to help him to get him back to her as fast as possible, drawing a groan from him. He spread her legs, and ever so carefully, ever so deliberately, slid all the way inside her, inch by glorious inch. It hurt, but not as much as it would have if he hadn’t wanted to make love to her. Cameron gasped first at the pressure, then as he filled her.
He seemed to know that fast, hard movement wouldn’t be comfortable for her. He gave her time, allowing her to adjust to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She kissed his neck, licking the skin there, then nipping it lightly. “Don’t stop.”
He moved slowly. “You’re r
eally tight,” he said, a deep groan escaping him.
She wrapped her hands over his shoulders, smoothed down the skin to his butt, pulling him into her. Clearly he was worried he was hurting her. “Don’t stop,” she said again, gasping at the pleasure beginning to override the pain and all her senses.
“I couldn’t if the roof fell in on me.”
He moved inside her, stroking faster, and when she wrapped her legs around him, drawing him farther in, so close it felt like they were one, he groaned and hesitated for just a second.
She tightened around him, and when he groaned her name, she sensed a passion roaring up in him he wasn’t going to be able to stop this time. She didn’t want him to hold back his pleasure. Clasping him hard, she felt his every thrust bringing her closer to heaven, too.
And then something carried her up and over on a tide of amazing pleasure, drawing a cry from her that further inflamed him.
“Oh, God, Cameron,” he said, “I can’t hold on any longer.”
He rode her hard, pinning her to the bed, kissing her as he thrust. He cried out suddenly, his hard muscles bunching and tensing all over his body, moving faster even as she held him tighter. When he collapsed against her, gasping her name, Cameron thought she’d never been closer to anyone in her life. It was the most magical experience.
She would treasure it forever.
—
Cameron was gone when he awakened, a strange emptiness signaling he’d rather have found the gorgeous redhead tucked up against him. He’d slept hard and peacefully for the first time in ages, and it was all due to her having soothed something in his soul. Which wasn’t entirely something he needed to get used to.
Saint glared blearily at the clock on his bedside table, amazed that it was six o’clock in the morning. Holy hell, the guys were going to wonder where he was.
They were going to give him the ribbing of his life.
He almost didn’t care. Last night had been worth the agony of waiting, the agony of not knowing whether he would ever have Cameron—and if he should—and any agony his friends heaped on him.