by Cat Johnson
“We’ll be quieter this time.”
He laughed. “Easier said than done.”
“No. It’s not too hard if both our mouths are busy.” Tara waggled her eyebrows up and down.
Jace shook his head. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Yup, you made me. Now deal with it.” Tara leaned low and nipped at his lower lip. “And don’t act like you’re not interested. I can feel you, you know. You’re hard.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Men can get hard if a strong wind blows against them.”
“Bullshit.” While brushing her lips over his, Tara snaked her hand between them, down beneath the waistband of his shorts until she made contact with the part she wanted. She stroked up and down his length, and noticed he didn’t stop her. His hand was too busy rubbing her nipple. “Cassie gave me some pointers.”
“What?” His hands stilled on her.
“Yup. Some tips.”
“God almighty, you told her details about us?”
“No. Okay, a few. But mostly it was her telling me what she does with Dillon. A few little wifely tricks she’s learned that she uses on him, or used to before the kid started sleeping between them.”
“I really, really don’t want to know what Dillon and his wife do together in bed. Please, Tara, don’t tell me any more. I have to face this guy.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on telling you, silly.” Tara stood and slid her shorts down her legs so she was bare from head to toe. “I’m going to show you.”
Jace’s gaze traveled over her bare skin. When she bent at the waist, grabbed his shorts and yanked them off, he didn’t stop her. Nor did he protest when she straddled him backwards like she’d done the night before. She leaned low and ran her tongue over his length, and tasted the slick pre-come already at the tip. He didn’t fight her on that, either. He pulled her hips down lower so he could reach her with his mouth.
She was definitely making progress, and she intended to progress even further tonight.
“I’m surprised no one’s called or texted you lately.” While trying not to relive the memories of the last two nights on the sofa with Tara, and concentrating on the highway ahead, it was surprising Jace realized her cell phone had been dead silent for days.
“Hmm?” She turned to him as if she’d been daydreaming herself.
“Your phone. Mine’s off but yours is—” Jace took his eyes off the road long enough to see the guilty expression settle on Tara’s face. “Your phone is on, right?”
“Um . . .”
“Tara. What if someone needs to get a hold of us?”
“Your phone’s not on either.” Her tone sounded defensive.
“I know that. That’s why we agreed to keep yours on.”
“But Tuck kept calling. I didn’t want to deal with it while we were having such a nice time at Dillon and Cassie’s place.”
Jace let out a breath. “I know.”
How could he argue with that? He didn’t want the outside world to find them any more than she did. They had had a good time the past two days. And nights. A time he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
“That was pretty amazing last night, huh?” She smiled.
Jace’s eyes opened wide. “God almighty, Tara. We’re not talking about that while I’m driving.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” He couldn’t come up with a reason other than he might drive off the road if he thought too much about how Tara sticking her sneaky little finger into his butt during the blowjob last night had made him shoot off like a damn geyser. “Just because. That’s why.”
She continued to look amused at his expense. “All right.”
As it was, he’d never be able to look at Dillon and Cassie again without knowing that they’d heard him and Tara, and that Cassie had been teaching Tara that little wifely trick she used on Dillon. Good God, that was more than any man should know about another. His face heated just thinking about it. He sure as hell hoped Cassie and Tara hadn’t discussed over tea this morning how he’d reacted to what she’d done. The idea of that was horrifying.
“Turn on your phone,” he ordered, not just to change the subject, but because they needed to have some way for people to contact them.
“Then you turn on yours, too.”
“Fine.” Jace reached onto the dash and tossed his phone at her. “Turn them both on.”
“Fine. I will.” She scowled at him and turned her attention to the phone that had landed in her lap.
Good. He could handle pissy Tara better than this new sexual explorer she had become. He truly had created a monster.
“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this about the other thing. You obviously enjoyed it—”
“Tara, I swear. Quit it.”
“You can do it to me if you want. I won’t mind. You liked it so much I want to see what it feels like.”
He bit back a cuss far too foul for her ears, and looked for an escape from the conversation. As embarrassing as it was that he’d let her do it, the memory of the feel of that finger, slick with her saliva, sliding into him sent tingles up his spine.
Escape came in the form of a truck stop he nearly sped by. Jace flipped on the blinker and hit the breaks hard enough that they jolted forward as he swung into the entrance at the last moment.
Tara braced one hand on the dash in front of her. “What are you doing?”
“I need to take a break.” One look in the mirror told him that Dillon, who was following behind them, had made the turn, too.
As Jace swung open the driver’s side door, Dillon pulled his truck into the spot next to where Jace had parked. Great. Maybe they could all discuss their sex lives together, as if they were in one big touchy-feely commune.
Dillon walked around to Jace’s side of the truck. “Hey, what’s up? Need a break?”
“Yup.” Jace nodded, happy to leave it at that.
“No, he’s mad at me,” Tara elaborated, giving Dillon info he didn’t need to have.
That was why a man should only have another man as a traveling partner. Females talked too damn much about the wrong things.
Dillon’s brows rose. “Okeydoke. Well, as long as we’re here, I’m getting something to eat and hitting the head.”
“I’ll come with.” Tara thrust Jace’s phone back at him. “You have a bunch of messages on there.”
He had no doubt. Jace took the phone and silently cursed all women as he hoped Tara didn’t decide to discuss her new sex trick with Dillon on the way to the bathroom. Then again, Dillon deserved to be as embarrassed as Jace. Let him share the misery. His wife had started it.
With that in mind, he drew in a deep breath and faced whatever hell his phone would bring. No surprise, a good number of the calls had been from Jacqueline, though she didn’t bother leaving a voicemail. He’d just hear her angry breath before the call disconnected. Fine with him. One was from the guy taking over his lawn jobs, letting him know everything was fine. And then there were a couple of texts from Tuck. More than Jace would have expected. Tuck was still trying to get Tara to Stillwater for the big baby reveal.
Jace left the phone powered up, but on silent. He hopped up in the seat and tossed the cell under the dash, where he intended to leave it. When he’d crawled back out of the truck, it was to see Tara and Dillon on their way back to him. Dillon said something and she laughed, feeding into Jace’s paranoia that they were talking about him.
“Something funny?”
“Yup.” Tara smiled and handed Jace a cup and a bag. “I got you sweet tea and some onion rings.”
Apparently she had learned as much about what Jace liked during her short stint as his traveling partner as he had about her likes.
She knew his addiction to sweet tea and how he preferred onion rings to French fries, just as he knew she liked diet cola over regular and loved ketchup, the more the better. He also knew that kissing that one spot on her neck just beneath her ear drove her a little crazy. His gut cle
nched at the memory.
Shit.
“Thanks.” He grabbed the bag and drove those thoughts out of his head. “So would you like to share with me what you two are having such a good time discussing?”
“Sure. I was telling Tara how the Big Mart is off the next exit . . . and how I’m fixin’ to buy me some of those underwear you’re getting.”
“Ha. Funny.” Jace forced a fake smile.
They could mock all they wanted, but Jace had seen riders do stranger things than wear new underwear in the name of superstition, and so had Dillon. The kid was enjoying teasing him in front of Tara.
He knew how to put an end to that. He set the cup and food bag on the truck’s hood and turned toward the building. “I gotta take a piss. Tara, while I’m gone why don’t you tell Dillon all about that little bedroom trick his wife said he enjoys so much.”
Jace didn’t know if she’d do it or not, but the look of fear on Dillon’s face was enough to have him smiling all the way to the urinals. Ha! That’d teach Dillon to make fun of a man’s riding rituals. It was true what they said. Misery did love company, and Jace loved that Dillon got to be miserable right along with him over the fact that Cassie and Tara were talking about private shit that should stay private.
As for little Miss Tara giggling over his underwear, when Jace got back to the truck, he’d make sure her phone was on. His was and fair was fair. They’d both have to suffer through the unwanted calls from home. Good traveling partners did those kinds of things together. It was the other things he and Tara did together that were wrong.
But dammit all if her orgasm therapy wasn’t starting to work. He hadn’t felt a thing seeing the messages and texts from Jacqueline. Not guilt. Not a desire to see her again. Nothing. If only this orgasm stuff would work to get rid of his guilt over Tara being Tuck’s little sister, he’d be good to go . . . but that was Jace’s issue to get over on his own. Somehow.
When Jace got back from the bathroom, Tara was nowhere to be found.
Dillon noticed him looking. “She decided she couldn’t live without a shake for the road.”
“A shake. A’ight.” Jace grinned. He loved how Tara put food away like a bull rider.
“As for that other thing, I’m not real sure where we go from here.” Red-cheeked, the usually cocky Dillon was having trouble maintaining eye contact.
“You mean now that we both know stuff about each other we shouldn’t?” Jace asked.
“Yeah.”
“I tell you where we go from here. We never breathe another word about it to each other or another living soul. That is after you tell your wife to please stop giving Tara advice in that particular area.”
“A’ight.” Dillon shook his head. “I still can’t believe Cassie—”
“Eh! Nope. Not another word.”
“Okay.” Dillon drew in a deep breath, visibly regrouping. “So, uh, you know anything about the bull you drew for tonight?”
A change of subject. Good man. “Actually, I do. Tuck had him last year in Perkins. Flat bucker. He scored lower than he should have.”
“You’re gonna have to dress it up for the judges.”
“Yup. That’s what I figure. Though with the shoulder not at a hundred percent, I might rather have a bull that’s not gonna challenge me too much.”
“Sure. I agree.”
This was good. Just two men shooting the bull and not thinking about women. Or blowjobs. Or how after last night’s embarrassing incident, while they were still naked and the feel of her finger inside him was still much too fresh in his mind, Tara had forced Jace to hear all about how Cassie had explained, in horrifying depth, the benefits of male prostate stimulation during oral sex.
Good God almighty he might never get her words out of his head, but he had to try. He’d get hard if he kept thinking about it. Worse, Jace suspected if Tara tried it again, he’d let her do it.
He swallowed and glanced at Dillon. “So, what about your bull for tonight?”
Chapter Nineteen
The announcer’s amplified babble bounced off the arena walls pretty much nonstop once an event began. Tara ignored it, mostly. Between the echo and the pounding music, it was nearly impossible to understand what was being said unless you were paying close attention to the action down on the dirt. But she found herself halting mid-step in her path behind the chutes when she heard Jace’s name spoken over the loudspeaker.
“. . . the original bull Jace Mills drew has been scratched. Instead, Mills will be aboard Beast Master tonight. This bull’s been ridden only three times in fourteen outs this season, with two riders scoring in the nineties. If Jace can cover this ride, he’ll move onto the leaderboard and head to the short go.”
As the announcer went on to review the current event leaders, Tara glanced at the group of riders huddled over one of the chutes and knew Jace must be in the middle of them, climbing on top of Beast Master for a ride that would either help move him toward the win or dump him in the dirt without a score. As much as she hated to admit it, she was glad he had on his brand new pair of Big Mart underwear since, crazy though it seemed, it gave him confidence. He might need that mental boost to ride a bull with a record that good, especially since Jace’s shoulder must still be sore.
Whatever item she’d been headed back to get fled her mind. She’d remember once she got back there, but that could wait a minute until after she watched Jace’s ride. That was the beauty of this sport. A qualified ride lasted eight seconds. It was pretty convenient that she could see Jace’s entire ride, and then get back to work, all in under a minute.
The bull was giving Jace trouble in the chute. Tara could see that even from where she stood. She couldn’t glimpse much more of Jace than just the top of his hat, but that was bobbing up and down as the bull danced beneath him. Dillon straddled the rails over Jace, reaching in to hold on to his vest. The chute was the most dangerous place to be, with nowhere for the rider to get away from the bull, whose bulk filled the space.
Tara held her breath, willing Jace to nod to the gateman and get out of the chute and into the arena where the bull had space to move and the three bullfighters could do their job and protect the rider.
Finally, the gate clanged open and Jace spun into the ring on top of Beast Master, who was living up to his reputation of being a ninety-point bull. Tara took a step forward to get a better look as the animal bucked hard and high. Jace stayed firmly seated even through the worst of the moves. It looked as if he’d cover the ride and get a hell of a score doing it.
Eight seconds seemed an eternity. She was about to look for the clock to see how long it had been when the animal dropped low in front, then whipped its head back. Jace couldn’t react fast enough.
The crack of skull hitting skull cut through the air, and Tara was running toward the entrance even before Jace’s body hit the ground.
Doc Chandler grabbed her arm before she could open the gate. “Wait.”
“He’s unconscious.” That was obvious as Jace lay crumpled and unmoving while the bull continued to spin next to his body, missing him by mere inches.
“Let the fighters do their job. Tara, you gotta wait until they get the bull out of there.”
“But—” She didn’t have to finish her protest. Between the mounted safety man and the fighters, they herded the bull through the out gate.
“It’s clear.” Tara wasted no time. She pushed past the doctor and ran to Jace. His hat had been knocked off. She saw the amount of blood pouring from the gash in his forehead. “You should be wearing a damn helmet. Stupid, stubborn—”
The doctor kneeled next to her in the dirt. “Lecture him when he’s conscious and can hear it.”
Tara knew he couldn’t hear her, but it made her feel better to yell at him, even unconscious.
Doc Chandler signaled for a body board, and the bile churned in Tara’s stomach. Jace was lying in a horrible looking position. His body twisted and awkward. What if he’d broken his neck? What if he was
paralyzed? The possibilities seemed endless, one worse than the next.
The arena went deathly quiet, a sign the crowd knew it was bad, but the silence didn’t help Tara think. All her training, everything she’d learned in school, fled as she looked down at Jace.
She was used to him cocky, full of life and laughter, even if it was at her expense. This—this was unbearable.
Maryann and Rick arrived with the body board and kneeled on the other side of the doctor. “The ambulance is out back. We ready to move him?” Maryann asked.
The doctor hissed in a breath. “I can’t tell how bad it is. I’d rather he be conscious so I can get some idea.”
Tara knew what the doctor wasn’t saying. He needed to know if Jace had broken his back or neck before they untwisted his body and strapped him on the board.
One of the most famous bull riders in history had broken his back not once, but twice. With time, he’d recovered and gone back to work in the arena with nothing more than a sore neck to show for the injury. Tara repeated those facts silently to herself as the doctor slapped Jace’s cheek.
“Jace. Wake up.”
Rick handed the doctor smelling salts. He cracked the tablet open and waved it under Jace’s nose. He woke with a start.
“What happened?” His voice wasn’t strong, and he sure as hell wasn’t coherent, but hearing him speak was the best sound Tara had heard all night. His eyes opened. His gaze swept past the doctor leaning low over him, and settled on Tara. He turned his head and hissed in a breath. “Ow.”
“Try not to move just yet,” the doctor instructed. “Can you tell me what hurts?”
Jace’s eyes moved back to the doctor. “My head. Neck. Shoulder.”
The doc nodded. “Well, you landed on your head, after cracking it against the bull.”
The blood ran in a steady stream down Jace’s face, past one eye and over his nose. Maryann leaned low with a piece of gauze, but Tara was closer.