Tanner (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 1)

by Sarah Mayberry

  She was about to head back to bed when her gaze fell on the glass and pill packet she’d left lying on the counter. His meds wouldn’t do him much good out here, and he shouldn’t have to go looking for them when he needed them.

  She filled up the glass, collected the pill packet and made her way to his bedroom. The door was only half closed, and she pushed it wide with her foot, opening her mouth to let him know why she was forcing herself on him yet again.

  What she saw made everything in her go very still. Tanner sat on the side of the bed, his head in his hands. His shoulders were hunched forward as though he was bracing himself for a blow from an unseen assailant.

  He wasn’t being attacked, though—he was bracing himself against the power of his own feelings. Everything about his posture radiated misery and defeat and fear, and something in Evie snapped.

  “Screw it,” she muttered under her breath.

  She crossed to the bed and dumped the glass of water and the tablets. Before he could react to her presence, she stepped close and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and back, curving her body over him so that as much of her was holding as much of him as possible. Predictably, he tensed, but Evie didn’t back off, she simply tightened her embrace, ducking her head to press a kiss to the back of his neck. She would hold him like this until the sun came up if she had to. Whatever it took to let him know he didn’t have to suffer through this alone.

  She could feel the tension in him, the war he was fighting within himself—and then suddenly he softened, his body twisting toward her, his big arms coming around her as he pressed his face into her belly. His hands curled into her tank top, pulling her closer still, holding her as though his life depended on it. She could feel his shoulders rising and falling as he drew in ragged breaths, fighting an upswell of emotion.

  They still weren’t close enough for Evie. She couldn’t get her arms around him, couldn’t press her body against his the way she needed to. Making a small, wordless sound of frustration, she swung her leg over his and climbed into his lap, wrapping both arms and legs around him. Tanner’s grip increased until her ribs ached and it was hard to breathe, but she simply held on, her cheek pressed to the good side of his head as he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

  He was trembling, and so was she, and for long, long minutes they simply held one another. Only when his grip eased a fraction did she speak.

  “It’s going to be all right,” she said. “No matter what, it’s going to be all right.”

  His hands tightened momentarily, then he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the slope of her shoulder, his mouth hot against her bare skin. She soothed a circle on his back, tucking her chin to press a kiss to his shoulder, too. His hands slid beneath her tank top, flattening against her back, his fingertips digging lightly into her flesh as he held her close. She kissed his shoulder, then his neck, offering wordless comfort, unable to convey the way she was feeling in any other way. His hands smoothed up and down her back, and when he kissed her again she felt the hot lap of his tongue against the side of her neck.

  She sucked in air, startled by the realization that he was hard beneath her, his big, thick erection a brand against her inner thigh. For a moment she hesitated, and then she gave in to the continuing press of his mouth against her skin and the silken sweep of his hands up and down her back.

  He needed this. She needed this.

  Letting him go momentarily, she grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head. Tanner drew in a shaky breath, then his head lowered unerringly toward her breasts. She arched her back as he drew an already-tight nipple into his mouth, using lips, teeth and tongue to tease her until she was vibrating with need.

  God, he was so good at this.

  Somehow he seemed to know when she needed rough, when she needed gentle. She was wet with desire, could feel her pulse beating between her legs, and she tilted her hips and rubbed herself against him.

  One of his hands slid between them, pressing against her through the thin cotton of her panties. She murmured her approval, and he slipped his hand beneath her underwear, sliding through her curls and into the heat between her thighs. Her body tightened as he traced the seam of her sex before plunging a finger inside her.

  She was spread wide for him, unable to do anything except tilt her hips and try to remember to breathe as he stroked her.

  “So wet for me, Evie,” he muttered against her breast before sucking her nipple with such ferocity the pleasure-pain almost made her come on the spot.

  He was trembling again, but not from repressed emotion this time. Her own desperation was rising, and she set a hand on his chest, pushing him away, even though it left her breasts aching for more of his touch.

  “Lie back,” she said.

  He hesitated a moment, then he went down onto his back and Evie tucked her legs back under herself so she could come up onto her knees. It took her seconds to get rid of her panties, a little longer to dispense with his boxer briefs. Then she was rising over him, his big, hard erection in hand.

  The first press of his hardness against her wet softness made her close her eyes and forget to breathe.

  This. This was so good, so right between them.

  She bore down, and he slid inside her, thick and long, filling her, stretching her. His hands glided up her sides to cup her breasts, and she planted her hands on his hard chest and started to ride.

  She went slowly, even though the drumming in her blood wanted hard and fast. This was about more than getting off. This was about intimacy and closeness, comfort and caring. This was about need as well as want, and she was going to make it last.

  His thighs lifted to meet her every time she sank down. The slide of his cock inside her, his hands on her breasts, the feel of his big body beneath hers… She got lost in the slow-building pleasure, her body ratcheting tighter and tighter.

  “Evie,” he said, his hands sliding to her hips.

  She gasped as he held her in place, thrusting up into her once, twice, three times. She felt the shudder of his climax hitting him, and then she was done for, her body tightening around his as she found her own peak.

  Afterward, she fell forward onto his chest and he rolled them to the side, encouraging her leg up over his hip while he remained inside her. They lay breast to chest, hip to hip, damp with sweat and desire, hearts separated only by a few inches of bone and flesh.

  His hands were splayed on her back and backside, holding her close, his breath hot and harsh against the side of her throat as they slowly came back down to earth.

  Despite all the things that were up in the air, Evie had never felt so complete in her life. Tanner Harding did things to her she didn’t have words to describe. He made her chest feel too small for her heart. He made her body burn and sing. He made her want to stretch every second in his arms into an hour, a day, a month.

  Even though they were plastered together, a chill prickled its away across her exposed skin as her body cooled. Groping behind herself blindly, she tried to find the covers so she could drag them over the two of them, but she came up blank.

  “I’ve got it,” Tanner said, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

  He shifted, rolling away from her, and Evie swallowed a protest at the loss of his closeness. She half expected him to get out of bed or distance himself from her in some other way, but he didn’t, instead coming back to her with the quilt fisted in one hand, spreading it over both of them. She scooted closer to him when he offered her his shoulder, closing her eyes as he pressed close to her again.

  The small gesture and the memory of the way he’d held her, the way he’d trembled with need for her, gave her hope and courage. After a few minutes she drew breath and staked her claim.

  “I’m not going tomorrow,” she said. “I’m staying till next Thursday.”

  Which meant she’d just made herself his houseguest for a full week. There was a short silence while he considered his response.

  “Okay.”r />
  She smiled in the darkness, then pressed a kiss to his chest. It wasn’t a marching band and a ticker-tape parade, but this was Tanner. Him letting her stay, him letting her in, was a big deal.

  What it meant in the long term—if there even was a long term between the two of them—was another story. But she would cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, Tanner was hers and she was going to savor every moment of being in his arms again.

  *

  Sleep kept threatening to take him, but Tanner didn’t want to drop off yet. He wanted to enjoy the feel of Evie’s body curled against his side. He wanted to listen to her breathing and feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

  She smelled good, like vanilla and flowers, and her hair was tangled beneath both him and her. When he turned his head and inhaled, he could smell her shampoo and feel the silky strands against his cheek.

  He hadn’t meant to make love to her. He hadn’t meant to accept her comfort, either, but he was fast learning he had precious little resistance where she was concerned. The sound of her voice, the warmth of her touch, the way she did everything she could to preserve his dignity while offering him support…

  He was powerless against his own need for her. A part of him hated that he needed anyone, but Evie was so sweet and addictive, the desire he felt for her so bone-deep and undeniable, he didn’t have a choice. The moment her arms had closed around him and her body had pressed against his, he’d been lost.

  And somehow, that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. He’d needed her to cling to, to ground him, even though he’d have died before admitting it. Which probably made him stupid as well as stubborn, because having her hold him, and holding her in turn had eased something deep inside him. Knowing she could see his pain, that she accepted it and understood it, had allowed him to accept it, too.

  What had happened was shitty—there was no getting around it. But it wasn’t the end of the world. He’d told himself as much before, trying to buck himself up, but this time the words hit home for him.

  Probably because it was hard to feel anything but good when he had Evie lying beside him. She was sunlight and warmth in human form, and he knew himself to be a lucky, lucky bastard that she’d somehow tumbled into his life.

  Even though sleep was tugging at him, making him heavy and lazy, he couldn’t stop himself from stroking a hand down her body. He pictured the feminine topography his hand was exploring—the hollow above her collarbone, the rising slope of her breast. The pale pink peak of her nipple, so touchable and fascinating to him. The soft under curve of her breast, the undulating ridges of her rib cage. Her belly, silky-smooth, the rounded jut of her hip bones. The warm, springy curls between her thighs. And then, in between…

  His cock got hard again as his fingers brushed over slick, slippery heat. She was so damned responsive to his touch, as eager to find pleasure as he was to give it. Rolling toward her, he pressed his lips to her shoulder, then her upper arm. She stirred, murmuring sleepily, and he pushed her arm up to allow him access to her armpit. He inhaled the scent of her there—fresh and just slightly salty from good, clean sweat—then tasted her skin. A growl rose in the back of his throat.

  She tasted so good. Like sex and woman and Evie. Hungry for more, he trailed kisses down her side and up onto her breast. Her nipple was already puckered into readiness and he pulled it into his mouth with a satisfied sigh. She stirred again, her hands finding his shoulders.

  “I thought we were sleeping,” she said, her voice husky and confused.

  “Let me,” he murmured against her skin.

  She made a small, wordless sound, but her hands softened on his shoulders, signaling acceptance of anything he had to offer. Lost in the darkness behind his bandages, Tanner tasted his way across her body, marveling at the textures and tastes, every new discovery cranking his need for her tighter and tighter, higher and higher. Her belly muscles quivered as he laved the delicate skin there, alternating strokes of his tongue with gentle rasps of his bristled chin against her flesh.

  He slid down in the bed, breathing in the musk of her desire as he settled between her legs. The skin of her inner thighs was impossibly delicate and soft beneath his hands. He circled his thumbs against her, marveling at her perfection. He leaned close to the heart of her, breathing in the unique scent that was only Evie.

  Her hips jerked minutely as he made his first foray into the slippery folds of her sex. Salt and need and heat met his tongue and he curled his fingers into her creamy thighs and delved deeper. Her clit trembled on his tongue, and when he pulled it into his mouth Evie’s breath gusted from her in a rush of air.

  Never had he felt so attuned, so connected to another person’s body. He could feel her rising tension, feel the electricity of it beneath her skin. Every subtle lift and circle of her hips translated itself to him. He felt every broken breath she drew, every ragged sigh she exhaled. When he slid a finger inside her, the clench of her inner muscles tightening around him made his cock swell hard and he pressed his hips into the bed, stringing out his own desire as he teased more and more pleasure from her.

  Lost in a sensuous haze, he lapped at her, stroking into her with two fingers, his cock throbbing. She was perfect. Silk and heat and slick tightness. When he felt her begin to tighten around his fingers, he smiled against her intimate flesh and redoubled his efforts until her hips jerked and she gasped his name. She came in fluttering spasms around his fingers, the experience so erotic he almost came on the sheets.

  Only when she was still beneath him did he lift his head. She was warm and boneless, and he smiled to himself as he drew himself back up alongside her. She reached for him, her hand wrapping around his still-hard cock.

  “You,” she said, the words slurred with satisfaction.

  “No,” he said, easing her hand away.

  He didn’t need it, didn’t want it. There would be other times, and making her come, immersing himself in her desire, had been reward enough for him. It had been so good, it had almost made the accident worth it.

  It was such a dumb, cock-driven idea, it made him smile. And then, finally, he let himself slip into sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Evie woke with a wall of hard heat behind her and a large, calloused hand curled possessively around one breast. Memories of the night washed over her and she felt herself growing warm and wet as she remembered the things Tanner had done to her.

  A change in his breathing told her he was awake and she shifted her head so she could look over her shoulder, determined to face whatever morning-after weirdness there might be head on.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Agreed,” Tanner said, and the lazy smile on his lips went a long way to loosening the tension in her shoulders.

  So, no regret this morning. Thank God, because it had been so wonderful, so insanely good being back in his arms, being able to hold him close and take his body in hers… She wasn’t sure she would have been able to accept a rejection from him today. Not gracefully or with dignity, anyway.

  There was something else they needed to cover off, however. Rolling within the circle of his arms so she was facing him, she slid her arm around his neck.

  “So, last night, we kind of forgot to use a condom, but I want you to know I’m on the pill, and that I’m always careful. So there’s nothing to worry about,” she said.

  She felt him tense for a split second, then he leaned forward and kissed her.

  “I’m sorry for not thinking about it—”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips, halting his apology. “Wasn’t looking for a mea culpa. It takes two to tango, in case you forgot. Just wanted to tick the box and cover it off.”

  “I’m careful, too. I don’t sleep around on the tour, like some of the other guys. That stuff got old for me years ago.”

  “Good. Problem solved. Next subject,” she said happily, settling into his embrace more fully.

  His beard was really growing in now, with four days�
�� worth of growth darkening his jaw. She tested its glossy strength with her fingertips, shivering a little as she remembered the way he’d teased her with it last night.

  “I can shave this for you today if you like,” she said.

  “Don’t you like it?” he asked.

  “I like it plenty, don’t worry. But you’re normally clean-shaven, and I thought you might prefer it that way.”

  “Not sure I should trust my good looks to you.”

  “Just for that, I’m not going to go gentle on you,” she said.

  “Gentle on me for what?”

  She responded by sliding her leg over his and reaching for the hard length of his erection. Despite what she’d said, she took it slowly, his injury top of mind. Watching his body beneath hers in the dawn light was a decadent, delicious experience—the flex of his belly muscles, the white of his teeth as he began to pant, the sharp rise and fall of his chest as he raced toward climax. She wasn’t far behind him when he came, and afterward she kissed him soundly and then dismounted with an alacrity that caused him to grasp her wrist before she could pull away.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, his head turned toward her even though he couldn’t see.

  “To start the shower and find your razor,” she told him.

  “Not sure I agreed to be shaved,” he said.

  She reached out to pat his cheek lightly. “It’s cute you think that.”

  He laughed and she slipped away from him and went to start the shower. When the water was hot enough, she led him into the stall and used the handheld spray to wash him without getting his bandages wet.

  “Looking forward to these things coming off tomorrow,” he said as she chased soap suds across his chest with the spray.

  “I guess that means I don’t get to do this again, huh?” she said.