Passion

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  Lynn thought about the first time she’d seen him, holding the elevator for her a few weeks after she’d moved into this building, with his short dark hair and warm brown eyes, smiling that smile she could never resist, his muscular body solid and inviting. His personality had seemed to fill the space, and she’d been drawn forward, into the elevator, into conversation and within a week, into his bedroom.

  She should have taken up smoking instead. There were programs proven to break people of that habit. There was no Quit Nick Logan solution.

  “You okay?” His voice was low, his mouth far too close to her ear.

  “Fine.” The word sounded strained, which probably told Nick entirely too much.

  “You can blame me if it makes you feel better.” His hands stroked gently along her arms, and Lynn knew he wasn’t talking about being stuck in the elevator.

  “That would be unfair. It’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault, we just want different things.”

  “Maybe not so different.” He kissed the side of her neck, and Lynn shivered while a familiar weakness stole over her. “I want you. You still want me. That’s something.”

  “Yes, but we can’t spend our lives in bed. Sooner or later we have to deal with reality.”

  “Reality is overrated. And we could try.” Nick’s hands moved very slowly up her arms again and down over her breasts, giving her plenty of time to anticipate his touch and move away if she didn’t want it.

  Unfortunately, she did want it. His palms warm and sure against her nipples made her close her eyes in pleasure. But it didn’t change anything. “We’re too different.”

  “Different can be good. My parts go out, yours go in.”

  His “out” part was hard and distinct against her butt and Lynn couldn’t help smiling. His hands moved over her breasts again, slow, gentle, warm and so familiar. So right. Why was it that every other man on the planet felt wrong in comparison? Nobody else smiled like Nick, or made her coffee the right way, or knew how to make her laugh or just felt right being there next to her.

  Yes, and nobody else can piss you off like Nick, either, Lynn reminded herself.

  “I think we should try again,” Nick said, and Lynn straightened up in shock.

  “You have to be kidding me.”

  “I’m dead serious. I know where I went wrong. I’m overprotective. I leave the seat up.”

  Lynn snorted. “Try again.”

  “All right, how’s this: I shut you out. My hours are crazy, my job sucks, I see terrible things and I come home and I see you and I want to keep you out of it. I don’t want you to see the things I see or know about them. I want you safe and happy and so I shut you out, and I hurt you doing it. And I make you nuts being overprotective because I can’t stand the thought that someday I might get a call and find out that the victim is you.”

  Lynn felt her jaw drop.

  “I’m sorry, Lynn.” The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, his tone raw. “I know that dating a cop is the pits. I know that if you’re crazy enough to marry me, the chances of making it work are terrible because the job puts a hell of a strain on relationships and the divorce rates are astronomical.”

  “If you’re proposing, the romance is lacking,” Lynn said. But she didn’t move away from him. She turned in his arms and pressed her cheek against his chest, needing to be closer.

  “I miss you. I need you. I know I pushed you away and it’s my fault you walked, but I want another chance, Lynn. Third time’s the charm. This time I intend to get it right.”

  She closed her eyes and let the sound of his voice, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the clean masculine scent of him and the familiar shape and feel of his body against hers fill her senses. “I miss you, too,” she admitted.

  He slid a hand under her chin and lifted it to meet his kiss. His mouth moved over hers, warm, tempting, seducing her into opening her mouth for his tongue. When she did, the kiss escalated from temptation to devastation. He devoured her lips, his hands hard and hot on her body as they sank together to the elevator floor.

  It had been too damn long. Lynn shuddered with want and tugged at his shirt, got it loose and ran her hands under it, hungry for the feel of his bare skin. He pulled her shirt up and broke the kiss long enough to pull it over her head, rolled with her so that she was lying on her back and grazed the curve of her breast with his teeth.

  She buried her fingers in his hair and moved restlessly underneath him, until he planted one knee between her legs and pressed into her. She felt swollen with need, aching for his touch to relieve the pressure.

  “You feel so good.” His hands moved over her, rubbing her nipples, cupping her breasts, sliding down her rib cage and her belly before hooking into the waistband of her pants. Nick lifted her up just enough to pull her pants and panties down her hips and then all the way to her ankles.

  Then his hand was between her legs, cupping her mound, moving over her and Lynn made a low sound of frustration, rocking her hips into his hand in an effort to guide him where she wanted him to go.

  “Is this what you need?” His voice was a dark whisper.

  He parted her folds and drove two fingers into her and Lynn let out a moan. “Yes.”

  Nick touching her, penetrating her, looming over her in the dark was enough to make her dizzy with need, frantic with heat. His thumb rubbed over her clit and then his mouth replaced it, drawing on the sensitive nub of flesh while his fingers moved inside her, and Lynn came with a liquid rush.

  “My turn.” She heard his zipper lower and the fabric rustle as he worked his pants down far enough to free his cock. He stretched out beside her and tugged her on top of him. “Floor’s hard. Don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Overprotective,” she said, but without heat as she spread her legs and let her knees rest on either side of his hips. Her breasts pushed into his chest, the thin fabric of her bra the only barrier between them with his shirt pulled up out of the way. His cock nudged her opening, thick and hard where she was slick and soft.

  “Take me inside you, Lynn.” His voice was low and rough with desire, and Lynn knew he was asking for more than sex. Now was the time to turn back if she couldn’t give him the chance he wanted.

  She thought about what it would mean if it was really, truly, finally over between them. No more falling into bed with him, no more waking up with him. No more Nick hard and hot inside her. No more arguments or making up. No more catching his eye and sharing a silent joke that nobody else was in on. The thought of no more Nick in her life made her cold inside, and she knew it was hopeless.

  “I should have taken up smoking,” she told him. Then she lifted her hips and lowered herself onto his cock, impaling her pussy, feeling him slide into her inch by inch until he filled her.

  “Bad for you,” he said, closing his hands over her hips and holding her still as they both took a minute to adjust. “Those things will take years off your life.”

  “So will you.” Lynn tightened her inner muscles around his cock and laughed when he groaned.

  “I think that’s mutual. You’re killing me.” He lifted her hips slightly and thrust up into her, hard and fast and deep. “I can’t go slow, Lynn.”

  “I don’t want slow.” She rocked into his thrusts, meeting him, taking him deeper, wanting him as deep inside her as he could go, and she felt the beginnings of another orgasm building.

  The tension spiraled with each thrust, and she moved harder against him, wanting more pressure, and he gave it to her. She felt his cock throb and knew he was as close as she was.

  The next thrust sent her off, her muscles tightening convulsively around his cock, and she came again. She felt him spurting inside her, a jet of liquid heat that heightened her pleasure and drew the orgasm out.

  She collapsed on him, panting, and felt him holding her close, his lips moving over her hair, his cock still buried deep inside her.

  “I love you, Lynn.”

  “I love you, too.” She kissed his
chest and cuddled into him, feeling at peace for the first time in six long, painful weeks.

  “Do me a favor,” he said, stroking her back. “The next time I piss you off, don’t stay away so long. I had to pull a lot of strings to arrange this.”

  She lifted her head and stared at him, even though she knew it was useless and she couldn’t see him in the dark. “You did set this up.”

  “You wouldn’t talk to me.” His hands cupped the bare curve of her ass and squeezed. “I knew you might not forgive me, you might not want to try again. I knew it might really be over. But I had to know for sure, and I couldn’t think of another way to find out.”

  “You could have sent flowers.”

  “I did. You left them on my doorstep.”

  That was true. He’d tried repeatedly to talk to her, on the phone, in person, passing her in the hall, and she hadn’t given him an opportunity. She’d been afraid that if she listened to him, she’d be drawn back into the same cycle of kissing and making up while the larger problem between them lay unresolved until the next argument brought it back to the surface.

  This time was different, however. This time, the real problem that drove them apart was out in the open and acknowledged. Nick had finally opened up to her, and she knew he hadn’t done that lightly.

  He would still work late and miss dates, and she’d still sit up worrying until she heard from him. She didn’t kid herself that it would be easy, but she knew to the depths of her soul it was worth the effort. She couldn’t cut him out of her life any more than she could cut him out of her heart.

  Lynn shifted on top of him and let her hands follow the line of his shoulders, luxuriating in the feel of his skin under her hands and his cock still hard inside her. “Just out of curiosity, since you arranged this private moment, how much time do we have before we’re ‘rescued?’”

  “Long enough for you to go for thirds.” Nick’s mouth captured hers again, and he rocked his hips into hers in a sensual promise.

  “Mmm. Good,” she sighed against his lips. “I hear the third time’s the charm.”

  RIDING WILD THINGS

  Lizzy Chambers

  The smell of fresh-churned dirt, stock and horses filled her nostrils as she took a final breath. Then Leigh nudged Blaire gently in the ribs, leaned forward and braced herself as the horse took off, through the chute and into the arena. Music blared and the fans screamed, but all Leigh saw was the first barrel jutting out of the ground ahead of her. Every muscle in her body was tight and controlled. Every move she made was executed perfectly to guide Blaire, and they rounded that first barrel with time to spare before heading to the second.

  It was the fifth round of the National Finals Rodeo, and Leigh had every intention of moving on. She’d been working toward this for years, since she was fifteen years old and dreaming about it since she was ten, when she saw barrel racing for the first time at the Central States Division Rodeo. Dirt, sweat, horses and loud music—it was just the kind of reckless, bad-ass sort of thing Leigh had always loved. And it turned out she was a natural.

  Her talent was plain for all to see as she circled the second barrel and dodged for the last. Her horsemanship was impeccable, and the audience was on its feet, roaring. If she could lead Blaire around the third barrel without slipping, they’d have the best time of the night. Leigh would be a shoe-in for round six and just a little farther down the road toward the championship. She braced herself and leaned into the turn. Together, she and Blaire nailed it, and Leigh’s face split into a bright white smile as they raced back to the chute, her thick blonde braid whipping out behind her. The air felt cold and wonderful rushing against her face, cutting through her clothes and enveloping her body. She released her muscles as they crossed the finish line and experienced the peak of the ride—knowing she’d blown away her competition yet again.

  Blaire slowed to a trot and Leigh relaxed, steering her lovely mare back into the enormous barn. Other rodeo competitors clapped as she returned, and someone shouted her time, 13.93 seconds. Definitely respectable. She dismounted at the trough and waited while Blaire drank.

  The next half hour was filled with congratulations from her parents, her friends, her parents’ friends and anyone else who’d seen her ride. It was satisfying. But everyone’s compliments were eclipsed when Jake Daniels came up behind her, his low voice stirring every bone in her back.

  “Nice ride, Leigh.” The deep tones were unmistakable, and Leigh’s smile returned, along with a noticeable flush as she turned to face him.

  If there was anything she’d dreamed about half as much as being a champion barrel racer, it was this man. Jake was six-and-a-half feet tall, deeply tanned after endless days working on his daddy’s ranch and beautiful, at least to Leigh. His cheeks were hard, flat planes, brushed by blond lashes that shaded bright blue eyes. But what Leigh loved best about Jake was expressed in his mouth; his ornery, wild, curling smile and also in his eyes, which were lit and alive. Jake rode bulls. Jake had a fire inside of him. Jake was everything Leigh wanted a cowboy to be, everything she’d been looking for.

  She’d had her eye on him for a couple of years now. She was twenty-two, with a string of unremarkable relationships behind her. None of the men she’d been with had what it took to be with her. They’d tried to tame her, but Leigh wasn’t one to be tamed. What she needed was somebody who could race alongside her, who could burn as brightly. She had a feeling Jake might be the right kind of man.

  “Thanks, Daniels,” She met his gaze and settled into the feeling that passed between them. It was white heat.

  Jake moved a little closer. “How’d it feel?”

  Leigh laughed. “I don’t know if there are words for it.”

  “Crazy?”

  “Crazy and great.”

  Jake nodded. “I’m gonna have a ride like that tonight.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded again.

  “I’ll be watching.”

  Jake got even closer, touching her face with fingertips that felt electric. “Well,” he said, low and quiet, “I sure hope so.”

  And then he was gone, taking Leigh’s breath with him.

  It took her a minute to recover. Her mind swam through all the memories she had of Jake, real and fantasy. She saw him on the back of a bull, holding on tight while the animal kicked and jumped and spun. She saw his face, bent into a fury of concentration and raw determination. And then she imagined him leaning over her with a similar daredevil expression, his hands on her body, his hips perched between her legs. Could Jake give her what other men had failed to? Leigh wondered if she’d ever find out.

  She shook herself out of it and headed over to where Effie Ambers and Caroline Poole were watching the bronc riding. They were both barrel racing girls, too, and the three of them stood in a row along the gate, a group of fast-riding women in glittery, overembellished cowgirl outfits that belied their inner toughness. Each one of them was champion of her home division. Each one of them had hit the ground while barrel racing plenty of times before, eating her fair share of dirt and wincing through her fair share of cuts and bruises. Even though they were her competition, Leigh felt at home with them. They understood how it felt to need to go fast, to be in control of something so out of control.

  But tonight Leigh had a hard time paying attention. She couldn’t focus on the riding playing out in front of her. She didn’t have any comments to make about the performances and certainly not the performers. None of the men clinging to the backs of the kicking, bucking horses could hold her attention for a second, and Effie and Caroline’s bubbly conversation washed over her without effect until—

  “Beer, Leigh?” Effie held a bottle out to her, and Leigh took it gratefully. The ladies clinked bottlenecks and drank, Leigh a little more quickly in an attempt to quell the burning between her legs.

  Effie laughed. “What, it’s not enough to beat us on the field? Ya gotta finish your brew first, too? You seem kinda distracted.”

 
“Leigh’s thinking about her boy,” Caroline Poole cut in, giggling, her round freckled face lighthearted and friendly.

  Leigh smiled. “No use in lying, I guess.”

  “I didn’t know you had a man, Leigh.” Effie frowned.

  “I’ve got him picked out,” Leigh nodded. “Just have to make my move.”

  “Jake Daniels,” Caroline confirmed. “I seen ’em talking. Looked like they was about to do more than that, too.”

  “Maybe later,” Leigh grinned.

  Effie punched her in the arm. “Girl, he’s a wild one. Watch out.”

  “Aw, I think Jake’s sweet,” Caroline commented. “I been in a lot of rodeos with him, and he’s always a gentleman. I don’t think I ever heard of him fooling around with nobody or anything.”

  Leigh nodded. “He’s a good guy.”

  “But he looks like he knows how to be bad when it’s called for,” Caroline added slyly. “He’s fine.”

  Leigh nodded again. “I’ll tell ya’ll how it goes.”

  They all laughed and clinked their beers again.

  “How you gonna pull it off, Leigh?” Caroline asked.

  Leigh shrugged. “Wait till he’s done riding. Jump him when he heads to the bathroom. Something like that.”

  “You don’t want him to make the first move?”

  “Don’t really matter to me so much,” Leigh admitted. “I mean, I guess that’d be nice, but I just want him, you know? I been wanting Jake for a long time.”

  “I hear that,” Effie nodded. “Men take too damn long.”

  “That’s the truth,” Caroline agreed, and the conversation turned from Jake to men in general and their universal shortcomings. An hour passed quickly, along with another beer, and the bull riding was upon them.

  Leigh felt goose bumps rise to her skin, provoked by the electric current running through her entire body. She was nervous on Jake’s behalf and also excited. He had the potential to do something great, to have an amazing ride like he’d said and to get on into the next round. She was impatient for his turn, restless while seven men rode before him. But then she saw him down on the other side of the arena, perched on the edge of the pen where the bull he’d been assigned bristled, getting rowdy. She watched as he slowly eased himself onto the animal’s back, winding rope around and around his hand, the only grip he’d have besides the steel clamp of his thighs around the bull’s ribs.