Forgiveness

by Wilder, Chiah

  And this time Flux groaned and swore, his hips bucked abruptly as he followed her orgasm with one of his own while his hands clutched at her hips and her breasts and pulled at her hair.

  “I can’t fuckin’ get enough of you, Maggie,” he whispered, panting above her and still joined together as they both slowly came back down. “That was … yeah …”

  “Uh-huh,” Maggie panted, swallowing through her parched throat and maneuvering him back down so she could kiss him. What started off as frantic and hungry fed into something more tender and unexpected as their tongues delicately danced together.

  “That was what I needed,” Maggie muttered, stretching beneath him as all the little aches and pains from riding fell away against her post-orgasmic bliss. “Ugh, don’t move yet.”

  Flux went to get up off her and he blinked in a dull, still slightly hazy surprise; but before he settled all his weight back on her, she readjusted her leg and wrapped it back around him like a blanket.

  Their heartbeats echoed each other against her chest as he burrowed his face into the side of her neck and let out a long sigh that seemed to release years of tension he’d been carrying in his body. Flux mumbled something that she couldn’t quite hear before he scooped her up and carried them both higher onto the bed until her head was surrounded by pillows. He rolled off the mattress and walked into the bathroom, and she pulled the covers snug around her. Her eyelids had just started to close when they snapped open as he crawled under the sheets and drew her to him. Secure under his arm, her skin shivered under his light touch as he ran his fingers through her hair.

  “Sleep, Duchess. I’m not moving.” He nuzzled into her neck, lightly nipping at her ear.

  They stayed entangled that way until she drifted into a gentle, soothing sleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Flux

  Flux woke up to Maggie’s gentle snores, his arms wrapped around her as he cradled her against his chest while he slept on his back. A stab of white-hot terror momentarily stunned him dumb. For something that was supposed to be casual, this was pretty fucking intimate. Warning bells went off in his head, fast and hard, as he surveyed the rest of the room.

  He’d made sure Maggie was okay with everything that went down between them. That was more important than anything, especially after what that asshole had made her feel the previous night. But hell, maybe he hadn’t looked at his own feelings before things went down between them. He wiggled a little in discomfort, annoyed by the fact that he even had feelings to examine.

  No strings. Casual. One and done.

  All of his rules flew through his head, but as Maggie burrowed harder into his chest, he knew with a resounding level of deep-seated fear that there was only one other woman he’d woken up to this way, and he’d married her. Fuck. Any other girl who came in and out of his bed didn’t get this treatment. It was a silent agreement that they would be gone after the deed was done.

  He swallowed thickly and forced back the pounding headache that had taken residence in his skull the second he opened his eyes. He had a fucking hangover from not having a hangover. Goddamn it! He scrambled to figure out what to do next considering that the past six years he’d spent his time alone and avoided anything like this in the first place. Maggie muttered in her sleep, her golden blonde hair fanning out over his chest.

  “Shit,” he mouthed, clenching his jaw.

  She was achingly gorgeous in the morning light, covers half splayed off her naked body so he could trace the lines of her curves and drink her in for as long as he wanted to without getting sick of the sight. That was part of the fucking problem. After the night before, he didn’t know if he could handle a repeat, but that was all his body wanted right now.

  While this wonderful woman had given him everything the night before, he was still the fucked up, head case who was dead inside. But as much as he hated to admit it, Maggie had brought him back to life again, even if for a small period of time, and that’s exactly why he couldn’t do it again. No, not when his emotions were too close to the surface with this one.

  Maggie threatened to bring him to his knees if he allowed her to get any closer—and no one could take Alicia’s place. He owed his dead wife that much, if not every damn breath in his fucking body. He didn’t deserve happiness or forgiveness, and any part of Maggie that could erase the memory of Alicia needed to stay far away.

  Another time, another place—

  Flux jerked upward too violently before he caught himself and kissed Maggie’s temple as she murmured something and rolled over, falling back to sleep. Fuck, he hated to be this asshole, but he couldn’t be anything other than what he was at his core. Walking out on her now was what they’d agreed on, and it was a good warning for her not to get near him again. He’d only bring her pain.

  With an exaggerated carefulness, Flux eased out of the bed and threw on his clothes as he tried to make as little noise as possible. He never should’ve agreed to fucking her without getting his head on straight first. But she wanted and needed him so much, and Flux craved her with a hunger he hadn’t known for a very long time. He shook his head. It was just one night of mindless fun. There was nothing else to it, and it wasn’t supposed to be anything else. Duchess wanted it that way too. So why did his brain insist on perverting it and making it all emotional and bullshit? He spiked his fingers through his hair, unable to rip his attention away from Maggie’s gently breathing form.

  He picked up the keys from the dresser and walked to the door. It was better for both of them. A selfish dick move, but she needed to know what she was dealing with, and he didn’t have any better way to show her than to be exactly who he was. It was better she knew now than have any bullshit expectations.

  The thought that he’d abandoned Alicia when she’d needed him most flitted through his mind, but he pushed it back and refused to deal with it. Flux clenched his fist on the doorknob and steeled himself to skulk away back to the fairgrounds. Maggie deserved a man without his kind of baggage: a man who moved from day to day as if nothing mattered and nothing existed. He didn’t have any roots, and he simply went where the road took him. Fuck, she doesn’t even know me that well.

  Well, now Maggie never would, and she’d be better off for it. He only had to look at his track record to know that, clear as fucking day. He walked out of the room and into the hot morning air. Squinting against the sunshine, he made his way across the parking lot.

  * * *

  Maggie kept her eyes screwed shut while she heard the door gently close behind him. When the rumble of his motorcycle dissipated, she sprawled out on the bed and took a deep breath, hating how she loved that his wood and leather scent lingered in the bedding. He was everywhere she looked and tasted and touched as he seeped into her skin.

  She had no regrets, even if her heart had pounded watching him go and not being able to say anything to bring him back. Maggie gripped her sides and shivered, closing her eyes. His side of the bed was already cold. Still, the heated montage of everything they did together the night before played in a loop on repeat in the front of her mind, so there was no way she could forget a single second.

  But she wasn’t naive or stupid. There was no way she didn’t know what she was taking on with his intimacy issues. He was a rumor unto his own in the rodeo fairgrounds, and he went through women like other men went through chewing tobacco. Fast and hard, his addiction was never sated, yet neither was that haunted look in his eyes.

  Maggie wasn’t his savior or therapist.

  The night before had been life changing, but when he’d violently jerked this morning and had woken her up, she sensed his heart-rate shift and gallop in his chest and knew waking up to a woman wasn’t an everyday occurrence for him. Flux’s fingers had trembled beneath her as he angled to get away from her and the bed. He’d fumbled to get his clothes on judging by the soft, jerky footfalls, the way his belt buckle had clanged, and how he’d muttered a curse because of it.

  Everything about their night tog
ether had been so perfect, and in the morning light it had suddenly drawn to a close as she witnessed all of his imperfections on display. The last thing she wanted to do was rip his pride from him when he was at his most vulnerable. No need to rub salt into the wound or start a big, overarching conversation that would lead neither of them anywhere.

  So Maggie played it cool, as best as she could, and let him have his moment sneaking out the front door. If she happened to see him later when she hit the fairgrounds, she’d say hi. They’d act like friends, like nothing had happened between them, and things would be normal.

  Maggie sighed and curled up tighter in the sheets, squeezing her eyes together.

  “It’ll all be fine,” she whispered into the silent darkness of the room as the air conditioner shuddered out a blast of icy air.

  After making sure no one was around, Maggie sneaked back to her room for a quick shower and a change of clothes then made her way to the rodeo.

  An hour later, Maggie left the stables after taking her horse, Odysseus, for a practice run in the ring before the match, then she stalked by the bull fighter’s area. It didn’t count as bugging Flux if they weren’t dating. And she actually did have to go that way to get some of her cleaning tools to rub her horse down before their barrel run that night.

  It was all logical and her reasoning was sound, but explaining it to herself made everything weird. She shouldn’t have to make excuses to see a man, especially one who was a friend—one whom she’d slept with the night before—and whom she worked with to boot. Maggie mentally chided herself for even surpassing her first instincts and sleeping with him when she knew damn good and well at the very beginning that there’d be possible consequences. What the hell is the matter with me? There aren’t any consequences right now except the ones in my head. We had a helluva good time last night. Great. Finished. Done. I need to stop thinking about it.

  For all she knew, Flux wasn’t even there—

  Shit! The rugged biker stood outside one of the bull pens talking to his boss, his usual bandana tied around his head instead of the token cowboy hat that almost everyone preferred in the rodeo. One hand was in his pocket and the other balanced him against the fence post. He looked more worn down than usual, his stance slightly off. His boss nodded once, Flux did his version of a nod, and then his boss headed off in the other direction.

  “Hey, stranger, how’s your day going?” Maggie made it sound as casual as possible, and she stayed where she was so she didn’t overwhelm him.

  “Fine.” Flux sounded monotone, and he didn’t even look in her direction before he started walking off somewhere else.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Maggie pressed her luck and followed behind him, trying not to take it personally that he was giving her the cold shoulder. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he didn’t even turn to acknowledge her presence.

  It was entirely possible that he was having a bad day. Yeah … that’s it. The problem was that Flux wasn’t being subtle in ignoring her as she fought to catch up with larger than normal strides. This was getting a bit ridiculous. Maggie made a noise of frustration that she sure as hell didn’t try to hide from him.

  It wasn’t like she was being overly clingy or weird about their night together—she hadn’t even brought it up at all. All she did was ask him about his day as politely and non-threateningly as she could, short of the silent treatment, which was what he appeared to be sporting with her at that very second. It was childish and beneath him to just keep walking while she followed behind him, and she felt like a pathetic doormat loser doing it.

  “You know what? Fine. When you feel like talking, you know where to find me. I hope whatever crawled up your ass dislodges itself soon,” Maggie said, stopping about halfway across the yard before she headed in the opposite direction.

  Maggie entered into the covered back area of the fairgrounds, paused to retie her hair back, and tried not to take personal offense to Flux’s behavior. After all, hadn’t she wanted a man who could go about his business without stalking her day and night after they’d had sex? Wasn’t she the one who said if they got together it would be a one-time thing with no strings attached?

  It appeared her wish had been granted and she’d gotten more than she’d bargained for—and then some. There was no reason for his rebuke to hurt. She would try again later, and if he still wanted to be an ass, well, she’d learned her fucking lesson, hadn’t she? With a bucket of reality mixed with resolve coursing through her veins, Maggie went to retrieve the items she needed for Odysseus and put her head back to where it should have been in the first place.

  Men were distractions. So long as she could keep her head in the game and her heart in the ring while she rode Odysseus, nothing else really mattered in the long run. She should be cherishing every single day she got to do what she loved for a living. Nothing else would ever be as important—certainly not a one-night stand with the rodeo Lothario.

  As the day went by, Maggie’s anger grew and Flux’s rebuff ate at her, so by late afternoon, Maggie stalked away from the stables in search of Flux. It was so obvious that after the awkwardness by the bull pens, he’d gone out of his way to not see her. Each time she’d caught a glimpse of him earlier that day, he’d disappear and that pissed the hell out of her. As Maggie looked around for the rugged biker, she kept telling herself that he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of her life, but she knew that was a damn lie. I screwed up big time last night. She brushed the sweat from her brow and marched forward. There was something about their night together that made her feel all mushy inside and that burned her ass to no end.

  I want to spend more time with him. The thought took her by surprise and her gasp bounced off the concrete walls. Whether Flux wanted to admit it or not, there was a strong connection between them and it’d been there from the moment they’d danced that first night at the bar. And I ran to him after Chet upset me. I didn’t go to Larissa or Sandy. Ugh … I’m sick of all this shit. Just thinking about Flux created a mess of opposing feelings: warmth and affection spread through her while hot, vulnerable rage burned in her belly.

  No one, absolutely no one, disrespects me on my turf. As the bull pen area drew nearer, pride told her that Flux was like any other man she went toe-to-toe with over the years, just a guy who needed some verbal sense slapped into him. Once I’m done saying my peace, he can ignore me all he wants and I won’t give a shit. I’m stronger than that. So the sex was mind blowing. My feelings are clouded by that. I just desire him and wouldn’t mind a repeat performance. I’m mixing affection up with pure lust. Of course, she shut down that damn inner voice of hers and kept walking.

  With the mental pep talk invigorating her, Maggie pinned her shoulders back and strode into the stables. She had one more thing to do before she could seek out Flux, although it was more for her own well-being than her horse’s. She always kissed the tip of his nose for luck, and before confronting Flux, she felt like she needed all the luck in the world.

  “… see, shit’s never fuckin’ easy. Connections? Fuck it, you know?”

  Maggie halted in her tracks and narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured under her breath, worried she was hearing things that didn’t exist out of her own anxieties.

  “What the hell am I doing talking to a motherfucking horse?” Flux groaned and she heard a loud bang as if Odysseus had stomped his hoof down in agreement.

  Maggie swallowed and inhaled a deep breath. Why’s he with Odysseus? And he’s talking to him. Has he lost it? She heard Flux murmuring, but it was too low for her to make out any of the words. She slowly approached Odysseus’s stall, figuring that she should make a noise or something. As much as she didn’t want to ruin the moment and take him by surprise, he would probably keep yapping and she needed to talk to him.

  Maggie coughed then heard the shuffle of footsteps then silence. Turning the corner, she saw him standing in front of Odysseus. “Flux, what’re you doing in there?”r />
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Maggie

  Maggie’s horse poked its head out of the stall followed by Flux’s confused expression, which quickly turned guarded as soon as he saw who was speaking. He cleared his throat and tucked something into the pocket of his cut.

  “Is that a flask? Are you drinking on the job?” Maggie felt like a school teacher wagging a finger at a student. “What’s going on with you?” There was no way to keep her accusatory tone on lockdown.

  Flux grunted and hid from view, making her outrage simmer to a low hum of disbelief that made her ears ring. What kind of child did I sleep with last night? How could he put himself in danger by drinking when he spent a majority of his day surrounded by huge bulls that could spook with the wrong movement and flay him in an instant?

  Instead of talking, Maggie unlocked the paddock door, grabbed Flux by his cut and dragged him out into the narrow hallway that separated all the stalls. Once she’d locked up after petting Odysseus on the nose, she flung her full attention at Flux.

  “Explain. Talk. Make words happen. Now.” She squared off in front of him, planting her feet shoulder-width apart with her hands on her hips. “I know you know how to have an adult conversation, so break out the good stuff now or I’ll out you so fast your head will spin. Got it?”

  Maggie hated the idea of resorting to being a rat fink, but that was the only threat she had in this fight. She didn’t have a clue if she’d get anything out of him without it, given their screwed-up emotional circumstances. Flux leaned against the wall and crossed his muscular arms, straining his tight black T-shirt as he crossed his legs at the ankles. The guy even refused to wear the usual cowboy boots, and instead went for steel-toed shit-kickers. Maggie’s gaze skittered over his body as she absorbed how far away he was from her normal type, yet how right things had felt the night before between them.