Taylor stared at him, mouth hanging open before she closed it with an audible snap of her teeth. She didn’t know what to do. The silly, schoolgirl part of herself was squealing and ready to throw herself at him, shouting her love to the world, but she couldn’t help clinging to the hurt he’d given her by holding so much of himself back.
“Babe,” he said, his hand coming up to cup her chin and turn her face in his direction. “I know I fucked up.”
That simple touch made things quake inside her, her inner schoolgirl ready to burst out and do a happy dance, but somehow Taylor found the strength to pull away from him and slide from her stool. “I–I’m sorry, I need to think about this,” she muttered, as she dropped a five on the bar. “Maybe... Maybe you should call me later.”
She began striding across the bar, which had begun to fill while Sin told her his sad story. And it was sad. Heartbreaking really, but what if there was more he hadn’t told her? What if this was just some sort of challenge to him? She was sure there weren’t many women who’d walked away from him, or climbed out of a bathroom window to get away from him before. That had to have stung his masculine pride. She didn’t want to think that of him, but she’d thought she’d known him so well until today. Only to get blindsided with a secret that wasn’t a little white lie, but a great honking one.
Taylor weaved her way around the tables and the people sitting at them. She’d made it to the very center of the bar when a big hand clamped down on her shoulder. Sin. She could tell just by the way her body reacted, as though she’d been touched by a live wire. Closing her eyes and praying for strength, she turned around.
Only to watch as Sinclair Rivas got down on his knees in front of her, in front of the whole damn bar. His body was tight, his eyes glittering with pride and something else, something fierce and dangerous. But still, he didn’t stop until he was all the way down, looking up at her. Taylor’s heart slammed against her ribs and her gaze darted around to see everyone stop what they were doing to watch what was going on.
“What are you doing?“ she hissed, as she reached out to pull on his arm, as though she could lift him to his feet without his help.
He didn’t budge. In fact, he sat on his heels, head tilted back to look at her and that proud look vanished to be replaced by… Oh my god, does he really love me?
“I told you once I don’t beg,” he reminded her in a clear voice that carried around the room. “I also said I don’t do regrets.” He lowered his eyelashes for a moment, a muscle jumping in his jaw, before he lifted them to stare into her eyes again. “But I’m begging for your forgiveness right now, Taylor. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to keep my daughter a secret from the one person I know would’ve understood my reservations.” His lips firmed. “I’m beggin’ you to forgive me, begging you to give me a chance to prove how much I love you, or I’ll regret never opening up to you for the rest of my fucking life.”
Taylor stared down at him. She remembered the look of pride on his face when he’d told her he didn’t beg and didn’t do regrets. He’d meant it. The same way he meant what he said now, what he’d announced in front of a whole room of people who were probably making phone calls all over town to share the news that the sinful Sinclair Rivas had just begged Taylor Guillory to forgive him and said that he loved her. There were probably some discreet pictures being taken, but she found she didn’t even care about that.
Not when she had the man of her dreams on his knees in front of her, his heart in his eyes.
“It was a big lie of omission,” she said softly. There went that muscle again. “And it would’ve been nice to know the woman in the picture next to your bed wasn’t a girlfriend I’d have to shank because she was with the man I wanted. The man I loved.”
“She saw his bed?” someone whispered loudly.
Neither she nor Sin gave the crowd a single thought. Not when she was swept into his big arms and hugged against his hard chest, their mouths meeting in the hottest kiss to be had on Rockin’ Robbie’s scarred dance floor. At least that was what Taylor heard from her sisters the next day when they pinned her down to find out the truth from the horse’s mouth.
“You love me?” he asked, something like wonder lighting his beautiful eyes.
Taylor blushed because yeah, she hadn’t meant to say that. Not right then at least. Maybe if they worked things out in a few months…
Just go for it.
So she did. “I do love you. I’ve probably loved you for years, but you never looked at me as if you even knew I was a girl.” She bit her lip and decided to go all–in. “I studied porn so I’d know what to do when I went after you.”
That had his eyebrows arching high. “You watched porn? Did you touch yourself?” A smile that was amused yet oh, so sexy to match the heat in his eyes pulled at his lips. “Now that’s hot, babe.”
Her cheeks? Yup, they were about hot enough to fry an egg on, but she didn’t look away from him. She had nothing to hide anymore. “I wanted you to want me.”
“I don’t just want you; I love you, woman,” Sin growled in her ear as he squeezed her tight. “But I’m still gonna paddle your ass for leaving me hanging there.”
Taylor sighed at the thought, even as her blood sped up. “Whatever possessed you to do something like kneeling in the middle of Robbie’s? You know they’re going to be talking about this for the next oh, thirty years or so.”
Resting his forehead on hers so he could stare into her eyes, Sin said, “Let them talk.” He kissed her softly. “Besides, sometimes you have to do stupid things for love, babe. And I do love you.”
And really, who cared about gossip when a woman found a man born to sin?
The End
About Danica Avet:
Danica Avet was born and raised in the wilds of South Louisiana where mosquitoes are big enough to carry off small children and there are only two seasons: hot and hotter. With a BA in History, she figured there were enough fry cooks in the world and decided to try her hand at writing. When she isn’t writing, working or contemplating the complexities of the universe, she spends time gathering inspiration from her insane family, reads far more than any sane person would want to and watches hot, burly men chase an oblong ball all over a field.
Find Me Here
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Danica’s Backlist
Paranormal Erotic Romances:
Ruby: Uncut and on the Loose (The Veil 1)
Succubus–in–Waiting (The Veil 2)
Lifestyles of the Fey and Dangerous (The Veil 3)
Ain’t No Bull (The Veil 4)
Immortal Love (Olympus, Inc. 1)
Immortal Game (Olympus Inc. 1.5)
Primal Song (Cajun Heat 1)
Primal Design (Cajun Heat 2)
Primal Flavor (Cajun Heat 3)
Touched by Lightning (Love’s Defenders 1)
Contemporary Erotic Romances:
Dean’s List
Grand Terre World:
Freeze Tag (Crushes to Cravings 1)
Playing Doctor (Crushes to Cravings 2)
Sweetest Taste of Sin (Southern Sin 1)
The Sound of Your Name
Felice Fox
Text Copyright Felice Fox 2014
All Rights Reserved
Discover more titles by Felice Fox at
www.felicefox.com
Ellie Donovan had done many things to get a great story for Modern Luxury Magazine, but pimping herself out to a pro bull rider who thinks she’s the only thing keeping him on track for the gold buckle, isn’t one of them. Being sexy Brody’s good luck charm wasn’t exactly a hardship–until she discovers she doesn’t want it to end.
Brody Cameron couldn’t help but bow to cowboy superstition on the night he should have lost his spot on the pro circuit, when a secret tryst with a pretty stranger changed his luck, and his heart, forever. Caught between the love he wants and the money his family needs, Brody can’t share the t
ruth with Ellie and risk losing his shot at the big money.
But when Cameron family secrets are exposed, and a jealous rival threatens to tear them apart, can Ellie and Brody break their silence without breaking each others’ hearts?
Chapter One
Nampa, Idaho
“You know what your problem is, Brody?” Rico sniffed, exaggerating his swagger as they cruised the curved, hollow hall of the stadium towards the chutes, the muted din of the crowd a dull and constant pressure in Brody’s ears.
Brody picked up his pace, driven by nerves, and Rico had to skip to keep up with him. They were an unlikely pair, Brody always trying to raise hell and Rico pointing his eyes toward heaven.
“What, smartass?”
“God don’t like you bein’ such a manwhore.”
Brody scowled. It had nothing to do with that. If Rico knew how badly Brody’s family needed cash, he wouldn’t give him such a hard time. For once he wasn’t doing this for himself. Riding bulls was the one thing he could do to help Cameron Ranch. If his father thought he was risking life and limb for them, he’d never allow it. And if any of his brothers suspected his true intentions, they didn’t talk about it. The Cameron’s were good at keeping their mouths’ shut, after all. Brody was a rebel and a risk–taker and no one, but no one, was going to make him stay on the ranch and work if he had it in his mind to take another shot on the bull riding circuit. At least he figured his brothers would understand.
For a split second Brody considered telling Rico everything but, instead, he punched his long time traveling partner in the upper arm and kept walking. The truth was, the ranch’s financial troubles had driven him to such distraction he had been celibate for months. Which problem was more at fault for him getting bucked off Hellion and tearing his rotator cuff at the end of last season, he could not say.
Now he was finally back on the circuit and barely hanging on at number 29 in the rankings. Tonight he’d drawn Hellion again and, while everyone was rooting for him to prevail over one of the rankest bulls in the sport, he was in an undeniable slump he could not seem to break. Lynryd Spinner, Thwacker, Slam Dunk…every damn bull won the battle against him in the last three weeks.
Brody, who knew how to get ’er done, was in serious trouble.
“I’ve been celibate since the season started, Rico. Anyways, loving women and being a manwhore are two different things.” It was all he’d say on the matter. No way Rico would understand or be able to talk him through it anyway. Didn’t matter who shared who in the bible, Rico wouldn’t understand it if he knew the unusual arrangement Brody had left behind at home.
“You’re going to have to explain it to me some time. You’re the most reluctant manwhore I know. Listen, I’ll meet you back there. I forgot my helmet in the truck.”
“Now who’s the jackass?” Brody stopped and threw back his head, shutting his eyes. The last couple months had made him bitter. He didn’t like it at all. No sex, no drinking, and bucked off six of seven bulls. He was sick of himself and ready to throw in the proverbial towel. “I’m really sorry, man,” he said. But when he opened his eyes, Rico was gone. He looked in both directions, but the hall was deserted.
A faint cloud of amber dust floated in, likely kicked up by bulls being moved through the system of gates and rails towards the chutes.
Brody wanted to hide.
His legs were heavy. Not wanting anyone to catch him in a state that would further diminish his confidence, he looked around for some escape. Noticing a utility closet a few feet away he tried the door, found it unlocked and slipped inside.
At the back of the cramped space a step stool leaned against smooth metal shelving and floor–to–ceiling drawers. Thin runner lights glowed along the floor, just enough illumination for Brody to know he had hit rock bottom.
… … …
Ellie Donovan skidded over the floor in her new boots again. She smoothed her red, cotton sundress as she righted herself, adrenaline skittering through her veins. It unnerved her to walk these curved, echo–y white halls under the arena where she couldn’t see around the corner. The muffled roar and cheer of the crowd surged somewhere above and around her, along with the booming voice of the emcee and bass country beats. The entire situation made her nervous, from lying about her name and what she was doing there, to trying to ingratiate herself with a group of people she knew hated the things she loved. It was a blue state, red state thing–this state being Idaho and only the first of several places she didn’t belong, plain and simple.
Ellie had rolled her big, brown eyes when her boss, Cooper, leaned back in his leather office chair, framed by the Manhattan skyline, and said he was sending her out on the bull riding circuit. Why the hell would she ever want to talk to a bunch of chauvinistic cowboys who tortured poor defenseless bulls?
“Animal athletes,” he corrected.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Get to know the stock contractors who provide the animals. They’re part of the story too. It’s not all about the cowboys, Ellie.”
“I’m going by Elsie.”
“Elsie?” Cooper groaned and rolled his eyes in turn. He was the one who’d insisted she use a fake name. “Stop fighting it, El. This is going to be good for you.”
No, it’s not.
“You need a little time out of the city.”
Ellie sat up straighter, fighting the cold lump of truth she felt in her chest over that statement.
“But the city is where I thrive.”
Coop shook his head, as if he knew better. He always thought he knew better.
“What?” Ellie said, folding her arms, touching her elbows.
“Manhattan…isn’t doing you any good right now. It hasn’t for a while. This assignment is a gift. It’s my gift to you.”
“Why?” The word came out too soft and she swallowed hard. Her eyes stung. Cooper might not know what the unfulfilled part of her was, the thing she let the whirl and blur of the city obscure, but it surfaced anyway. It showed through. His keen eye caught it.
“Have fun out there and bring us a good story.”
She wasn’t exactly sold on the idea Modern Luxury magazine readers wanted to read about the lives of high–earning bull riders, but Cooper had argued the surge in popularity of country music and the country lifestyle meant they needed to test the waters. There might be an interest after all, if she could come up with a solid angle.
But following the bull riding circuit through Idaho, Montana, Colorado and Wyoming? How far out of her element could she get? She was the type to march outside the stadium with the PETA protesters, not someone who’d pay to go inside and watch grown men get their bones crushed by two–thousand pounds of torment. She didn’t know how she was going to pull off her cover story, pretending to work for a European boot company interested in sponsoring American bull riders. It was a stretch, but at least there would be a reason for her to ask lots of questions and take notes.
Cooper had an old college buddy wrangle a VIP pass from the truck manufacturer behind the competition, so Ellie would have full access to anyone she might want to talk to–if they’d be willing to talk to her. She assumed these people had their own cliques, and might not be friendly to outsiders.
Ellie was about to round another corner when she heard two men arguing. Well, not exactly arguing, but giving each other shit. She wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. Her palms were sweating and her hands were shaking. What she’d really needed was a little time with her vibrator before leaving the hotel, but she had been too nervous to do it.
She pressed her back to the wall and heard someone say I’m sorry man, then the hall went quiet again.
Okay, Ellie. You can do this. They’re people. They’ll believe you. Despite her therapist’s encouragement to use self–talk to soothe her nerves, her heart was racing so fast she knew her voice would shake if she tried to speak. She needed a place to calm down. Clenching her fists at her sides, she proceeded tentatively along the
hall until she saw a door marked “Utility” and tried the handle.
… … …
Shit. Hiding out in a utility closet. On the wall beside the door was a small rectangular pad counting down the number of seconds left on the lighting timer, with two arrow keys to increase or decrease the time and a red cancel button. Brody pressed the down arrow until it showed 3 seconds, 2…1… He dropped forehead to forearm, leaned against the cool metal of the drawers and was plunged into darkness.
This would be a perfect place to sneak a girl if he wasn’t so depressed. Brody rubbed his cock through his jeans at the thought of all those willing buckle bunnies in the stands in their curve–hugging, snap–button, plaid shirts. Maybe he should handle himself in here? He didn’t want it getting around he was struggling. Those girls liked to talk too much. Brody unzipped his jeans and had begun to stroke his thickening cock, when someone turned the handle on the door and eased it open quietly.
The runner lights on the floor flickered on. His heart froze in his chest as he quickly covered himself with his hand, but it wasn’t a custodian or even Rico looking for him. A mess of golden blonde hair over bare shoulders slipped through the door and backed into the closet. There was no time to tuck his cock back in to his jeans and he regretted having a smear of pre–cum on his palm, but there was nothing for it. Moving fast, Brody caught her before she turned, covering her mouth as she shrieked into it, yanking the door shut and securing her thrashing body against his own with his other arm.
“Shhhh…shh! I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He breathed harshly into silken, vanilla–scented hair, which sent a ball–tightening quake right through him. “I swear…I swear…I promise. You’re safe.”
Her lips were warm and sticky with gloss. God or somebody must have been watching over him because, chest still heaving, she settled. Having been on the back of many a rank bull right before the chute opened, Brody knew he had about three seconds to fix this before she bucked and bolted and he got slapped with a career–shattering assault charge.
Brought to His Knees-Tough Guys Laid Low By Love Page 45