by Tina Leonard
Trace grinned at Ava, happy to see her looking his way. “Teamwork is fine. This was just something I needed to do myself.”
“We don’t do ‘myself,’ ” Saint said sternly. “There is no ‘myself’ in team.”
“All right.” He held up a hand in surrender. “All for one and one for all.”
“All right, then.” Saint settled back in his seat, grinning at Trace. “Now tell us what really happened. Because all Cameron got was a bunch of blubbering in her ear.”
“That’s bad.” Trace was perplexed as to why a man would cry to a woman. “Don’t you think it’s bad, Cameron?”
She blushed, glanced at Saint. “I think you’re mean.”
He raised his brows, and his buddies laughed. “Mean?”
“Yes. You don’t know that Jake did it.”
“You’re right. It could have been Buck. Doesn’t really matter which of the Tweedledees thought it up. They had the drug on them; I made them take a little sip, just like in Alice in Wonderland. Which should teach them to pick on a helpless female.”
“Helpless female!” Ava glared at him. “Cameron’s not helpless.”
“She would have been, if their plan had succeeded,” Trace said.
“That’s true,” Cameron said, “but in the future, I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to fight my own battles.”
Trace blinked. “You fight your battles. I’ll fight my buddies’, when they can’t fight for themselves.”
“Spirited little lady, isn’t she?” Saint said, beaming.
“Yes but also a bit unaware of how Hell works. This isn’t a garden-party kind of town,” Trace said, and the three women looked quite displeased with him. “This is a bare-knuckled, brawling town of mostly men. We settle things ourselves, and we don’t call up women to try to get sympathy points.”
“I think what Cameron’s trying to say, Trace,” Harper said, “is that she would have reported the incident to the sheriff today. You didn’t have to go hurt anyone.”
“I didn’t hurt anybody.” Trace shook his head. “I merely rebalanced the equation in Hell.” He looked at Ava, who stared back at him. “Am I in trouble with you, too?”
She shook her head. “I have brothers. I know exactly why you did what you did, and if it had been my brothers in your boots, the Horsemen would have had broken noses and maybe jaws to go along with their injured pride. I think you showed admirable restraint.”
He perked up big-time. She got him. She totally understood, and she thought he was a hero.
And at that moment, Trace Carter realized he was quite possibly on the verge of falling deeply in love.
* * *
After the girls left, Declan looked at him.
“What the hell are you doing, man?”
Trace glanced at his buddies. “What do you mean?”
“We see how you look at Ava,” Declan said. “You look like a starving man at a high-class buffet.”
“It’s bad,” Saint said. “You’re trying to build up hero points, and that’s not the way it’s supposed to go.”
Trace scoffed. “There’s nothing between Ava and me.”
Which was pretty much an untruth, as even he would have to admit. Because he thought about her a thousand times a day, which was more than he thought about everything else combined these days.
It was her mouth that got him. Every time.
“We’re just saying,” Saint said, continuing on in annoyingly correct fashion, “that this is probably something you want to think about long and hard before you leap.”
He’d leaped. Too late, brothers.
“It’s not too late,” Declan said, almost reading his mind. Which they had a tendency to do. You didn’t serve alongside two guys and share their lives and darkest moments without all of you knowing each other like the back of your hand.
“Shit,” Trace said, and they nodded.
“We figured,” Declan said. “At first we thought you were just being a little out of character for yourself. And then we saw you with Ava last night, sitting on her towel, and we realized there’s a lot more going on than the typical student/coach relationship. You’re into her.”
He was so into Ava. Not that he planned to share that information.
“It looked like you were going to pop one whenever the Horsemen even looked at her, and we could see there was going to be terrible trouble if we didn’t straighten this out for you,” Saint said. “Only then there was terrible trouble, but Declan ended up taking the bullet. Next time maybe you don’t dodge it, though. There’s lines that just can’t be crossed, and you know it better than anyone.”
Trace sank back into the sofa, sighing, his gut suddenly cramping. There were consequences to crossing lines that were marked Do Not Cross.
“And we’re betting,” Declan said, “that you haven’t told Ava that you’re the bull master for Rory. That you help him breed those bulls of his, and transport them to rodeos, and sometimes even work the gates and chutes.”
No. He hadn’t told her.
“See, that’s a problem,” Saint said. “Of all of them, Ava wants this bullfighting gig the most, and she has the least chances of being able to do it.”
Every word was true. Damnably true.
“She’s soft and gentle,” Declan said. “You can see it in those big expressive eyes. I hear she has some family situation, that this is a last-gasp dream before she goes home to help the family. Her old man’s got some health issue, and mom has to stay home to help him a lot and can’t work. The brothers help out, but Ava’s been the support system and a breadwinner for the family.”
Gut check. Hard. He’d just learned more about Ava than he’d ever bothered to ask.
“See, Cameron’s different,” Saint said. “Of all of them, she’s just wild enough to be effective in the arena. And Harper’s fast and quick and determined, and she’s strong. Cameron’s the kind of woman a man might think about trusting, because she’s a little wild-eyed. Unafraid of consequences. But Ava, she’s just too delicate, man.”
Declan eyed him. “We think you knew this all along, or you would have already had Ava out to Rory’s.”
“I’m supposed to take her. Was planning on going tomorrow.” Trace rubbed a tired hand over his unshaven jaw.
“But you haven’t,” Saint said, “for two reasons. One, you like her too much to destroy her dreams. And two, you know that she’ll leave Hell as soon as she knows you have no intention of training her seriously.”
“Damn,” Trace said. He shook his head, not wanting to look into the mirror his friends were providing. But he couldn’t get away from his own reflection. “What do I do?”
“There’s only two things you can do.” Declan shrugged. “You can tell her the truth, and watch her and her horse trailer head out of town. Or you can start putting forth some serious effort into training her for bullfighting—which in good conscience, you can’t do. She’s just not got the stuff.”
Trace closed his eyes briefly. Everything they said was true. This was what happened when lines got crossed. Things got messy, emotions drove your normally rational side haywire. You started lying to yourself, kidding yourself that things could work out. I’ve been lying to myself and her ever since she got here.
All he wanted to do was kiss her—and then some. Badly.
“You’re right,” he said, defeated, and his friends nodded sympathetically.
“We know,” Saint said. “Believe me, this is exactly why we’ve stayed far away from temptation.”
He was supposed to be the leader. He was supposed to be an example that other men looked up to.
Not an example of how to turn to quivering mush in record time.
“Thanks for the pep talk.” The warning.
Just in the nick of time.
Which was exactly how he found himself at Ava’s door that night. He’d never been good at heeding warnings. Ava opened the door, and he looked at her, aware he was doing exactly what he shouldn’t be doi
ng.
“I’ve been warned to stay away from you, in my best interests,” Trace said.
She didn’t give him a chance to finish his long-winded confession. She dragged him through the doorway, pulled him to her room, locked the door, and jumped into his arms, propelling them both onto her bed.
“Hang on,” he said, his hands not waiting at all as he invaded her mouth hungrily.
“No hanging,” Ava said. “We don’t have long before my roommates get back.” She kissed him hard, fast, eagerly, and he wanted to inhale her. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, rationally speaking, but it felt like a great idea right now, and how long was a man expected to fall on his own sword?
“You taste amazing,” he said, and she giggled, tugged off his shirt, made short work of the rest of the clothes. She gasped when he did the same to her, tugging him on top of her. He stopped, his heart nearly stone-dead in his chest at the sight of all the beauty laid out on the sheets. Pink-brown nipples so hard they begged for his mouth, a shapely waist carved into smooth round hips, and dear God, a pink lace thong that was more air than cloth.
Yeah, his heart had stopped, but the rest of him was functioning fine. “You’re beautiful. More than beautiful. A goddess.”
“Shh,” she said, pulling him down so she could catch his mouth with hers. He froze completely, tightened up when she wrapped a hand around him, stroked his balls. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to go off like a rocket in her soft hands. She was so gentle, so sweet.
“Come on, cowboy,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone here.”
Alone? Hell, he was right here with her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.” She tugged him and he groaned, taking one very tempting nipple in his mouth. He was drowning in the soft skin and magic of Ava, fast approaching a point of no return. She stroked him into a state of hardness achieved only by diamonds, whispered something sweetly dirty on a breath so soft he almost didn’t catch it.
But he had. Big-time.
“Condom,” he stated, making short work of it, kissing her all the way down to her belly as he pulled the condom on over his swollen skin. She was trying to help, but her delicate fingers on him just about sent him over the edge. He was revving much too fast; this was going to end before everything got good for her, so he caught her hands in his, pinning them above her head. “We’re in no rush. Let’s slow things down.”
“Cameron and Harper will be back soon.”
He heard the urgency. But he wasn’t going to hurry. “You know I’m all about the details,” he said, kissing from her navel to her mound, sliding his tongue along her slit. She writhed, bringing what he wanted closer to his mouth, and he slid his tongue inside her, sighing at the soft, sweet slickness that he found there. Ava gasped, but he kept her hands in one of his, stroked her nipples with his free hand, kept his tongue hard inside her for a moment more. He had her exactly where he wanted her; this was the heaven he’d dreamed of.
“Oh, my God, Trace,” Ava cried.
He pinched a nipple lightly and she arched onto his tongue. As he licked and tasted her, it seemed his hunger grew until he finally had to release her hands to hold her hips up so he could bring her closer still. She cried out, wrapping her hands in his hair, her thighs trembling. When he could tell she was absolutely wild for him, in the same place he was for her, he wrapped his mouth around her clitoris and slowly slid two fingers inside her hot wetness.
Ava grabbed his shoulders, practically coming off the bed. He felt the sweet spasms pushing against his fingers, kept suckling on her gently, feeling her climax again, catching every bit of it. She cried out, reached down, pulled him no-nonsense onto the bed, rolled him onto his back. Got on top, straddling him, and took hold of him, guiding his hardness to her. Slowly sank onto him, and it was all he could do not to come right then.
His dick was on fire.
“Don’t stop, Ava.” It came out as a plea-beg-command.
“You said there was no hurry,” she said, rocking on him very slowly.
“Well, your roommates,” Trace said, grabbing hold of her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, squeezing her.
“Will be in for a surprise.” She jiggled on him, riding him a bit harder, then stopped.
He moved her hips against his groin, trying to tempt her into keeping up the mind-blowing movement she’d had going. She stopped him.
“It’s my turn,” Ava told him. “You don’t get to do all the training in Hell.”
A groan escaped him. She was killing him. Planned to torture him right into sexual heaven. “I don’t know if I can last long enough to get you to a second time.”
Ava smiled down at him, so foxy and cute all he could do was stare. The nipples teased at him like hard pebbles, just begging for his hands and mouth; her tiny V held him pinned hot and tight inside her. “You’ll manage. They say you’re the best in Hell.”
Okay, but not at keeping it together with a sexy brunette squeezing him like a python. “Holy shit, I think I hear your roommates,” he said, lying like a rug, but he was dying to get her to finish him off so he’d still have something left in the tank for her.
She just smiled, knowing exactly what he was up to, leaned over, swayed her nipples in front of his face. Rocked on his dick in a slow up-and-down motion, very much like how she posted on her horse, an easy, strong, controlled motion that threatened to take him over the edge. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, drawing another cry of pleasure from her. Decided to hell with the rules, grabbed her fanny, flipped her over and pressed her into the sheets.
Got as far up inside her as he could, took her lips with a hunger he didn’t think he could satisfy in one night. Sweet, so very sweet, and hot, and wet in all the right places. He stroked inside her, and Ava arched against him, holding him even tighter, clinging to him, calling his name between kisses, and all he could do was hold on to her like a life raft as he went spinning out of control into her arms, calling her name.
If this was a mistake, it was the sweetest one I ever made.
Of course it was a mistake. He collapsed against her, trying to recover from the climax that had separated his brain from his skull, and even he knew it was a mistake. Every moment of Ava was a mistake. But the beauty of life was that smart men learned from their mistakes, every time they made them. And when life offered you a onetime deal, you grabbed that brass ring.
And Ava was definitely the brass ring.
Chapter Eleven
On his best days, Trace was a bit of a hard-ass.
Today was not even close to being a good day. Ava glared at him as he told her for the hundredth time to loop the barrels. “I’m not doing it again,” she said. “I’m not going to wear my horse down just because you can’t make up your mind.”
He glared at her, and she shrugged. “Judy will be back tomorrow. You’re supposed to take our team to learn bullfighting. And don’t pretend you have a plan anymore for a different kind of team. You don’t have any plan at all. You’ve been trying to pass yourself off as having a plan, but your only goal is trying to keep us from doing what we came here to do.”
Trace waved a hand. “Fine. Cool your horse down, put him away, and we’ll go. Cameron and Harper going, too? Or just you?”
“We’re all going. We’re a team,” Ava said, emphasizing that fact. He’d been a stern taskmaster today, almost as if the weekend had never happened. She could have sworn they were getting closer.
Today he’d been so irritatingly difficult that she knew something had changed. The old Trace had been replaced by drill sergeant Trace, determined to do his job and nothing more.
Fine by me.
“Here’s the deal,” Trace said suddenly, surprising her. She waited, her horse shifting impatiently. “I’m not going to train you to bullfight.”
Her jaw felt like it had unhinged. “Why not?”
He shook his head. “You’re not even close to what a bull rider wants to see protecting him. You’re a well-trained rider, but that’s what you
are. A rider. I should have told you that sooner.” He blew out a breath. “I think I was hoping there was a way I could think of to make it work. But there’s not.”
She stared at him. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“I’ve said all I’m going to say on the matter. I have to make the call as the trainer. And I know you’re not fit for the job. I can’t put cowboys at risk just so you can follow a dream. They have dreams, too. But your dreams can get them hurt.”
He walked away. Ava stared after him.
Cameron rode into the practice ring for her lesson. “You look like you ate something bad.”
Ava shook her head.
“Is everything all right?”
“Not really.” Ava replayed Trace’s words, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. “I’m going to go.”
“Are you okay?”
Ava dismounted, walking her horse from the ring, tears jumping into her eyes. No, she wasn’t all right, everything was all wrong, and the worst part was, it was pretty much her fault for crossing a line she’d known better than to cross.
* * *
Trace knew he’d done a bad job of telling Ava the truth. Frankly, she’d deserved better. But Declan and Saint had been right: He’d gotten way too involved. The Belles were there under false pretenses—Judy’s pretenses—and that wasn’t his problem. What he owed everyone was the truth, but he hadn’t been truthful because he had the hots for Ava.
He’d wanted to be a hero, and it just wasn’t going to work out that way.
And the hell of it was that even if his buddies hadn’t warned him that Ava was all wrong for bullfighting, he himself couldn’t put the sweet, sexy darling into an arena with bulls. It’d kill him if she got hurt—especially since Declan and Saint had warned him. Shit, what man would deliberately let his woman get crushed?
Of course, Ava would read him the riot act in a flash if she knew that their making love had instilled in him a whole new dose of overprotectiveness toward her.
Ava came into the barn office behind him. “Would you care to explain what just happened?”
“No.”
“You’ve changed your mind because—”