Corralled - Page 87/101

“Hank, please.”

He moved his mouth away a fraction of an inch and blew a stream of cool air across her hot tissues.

Her whole body trembled.

That was when Hank zeroed in on her clit, letting his tongue lightly flick the nub. As soon as her breathing changed he suctioned his mouth to it and sucked hard.

“Just like that—yes!” That sweet, hot flesh contracted and spasmed against his tongue and pulsed against his lips.

The friction of his c**k head against the sheets was almost more than he could bear. He released her clit, rubbing his razor-stubbled face against her inner thighs. He loved this secret part of her. The pale white skin looked even more exotic against the tanned skin of his hands.

Hank meandered up her luscious body. He tended to her br**sts, admiring the perfect weight of them in his hands, the slight upturn to the ni**les, and how tightly the tips budded in anticipation of his mouth.

Lainie arched. Then she blinked and bestowed that secret womanly smile that made him nervous.

“What?”

“You are one damn handsome man.” She traced his lip with the pad of her thumb. “And you sure know what to do with this mouth.”

“Who’s the sweet talker now?” He rested his forehead to hers. “Spread your legs, baby, and let me love on you.”

“Anytime, anyplace.”

He lowered his body to hers, hissing in a breath when her tits crushed into his chest. Pleasure rocketed through him when her soft belly brushed his. His eager c**k aligned to her core of its own accord. He watched her eyes glaze with pleasure as he eased into her heat and welcoming wetness.

“That’s always so good,” she whispered against his throat. “Every time.”

Truer words had never been spoken. “You don’t mind that we’re face-to-face?”

Lainie lightly slapped her hands on his cheeks. “I love being face-to-face with you. Especially now that I know missionary isn’t the only position that you excel in.”

“You had doubts?”

“Maybe at one time. Not now.” She smooched his lips with each word. “You. Rock. My. World. Hank. Lawson.”

“Lainie. I—I—”

She put her fingers over his mouth. “Don’t. Just be with me like this.”

Rough kisses fed soft. Deep, rhythmic thrusts became shallow rocks of his hips. Hank moved with her, on her, in her, gave her all of himself and received everything from her in return.

She was wholly his. She in turn owned him completely.

It was beautiful. And scary. And amazing.

There was no race to orgasm. Just the constant ebb and flow of skin sliding on skin. Heartbeat matched to heartbeat. Lips clinging to lips. Breath mingling with breath. His senses were awash in the feeling of connectedness. Of rightness. Of their making love to each other, bodies, hearts, souls, and eyes wide open.

She whispered his name and unraveled.

Hank found release right along with her.

In the afterglow they lazed in his big bed, Lainie resting on her stomach, head pillowed on her arms. Hank dragged his fingertips up and down her spine. Or he played connect the dots with her freckles and moles. “You really have to go?”

“Yes. I wish I didn’t.”

“Is that your way of saying you don’t mind hanging out at the ranch? Even though I slept through the days you were here?”

She smiled. “Fishing for compliments about your spread, Hank; for shame. You know I like it here.”

“I’m glad.” He placed a kiss at the base of her neck. “You sure you want Abe to take you to Rawlins tomorrow?”

“It’ll be easier.”

Lainie didn’t explain whether she meant easier on him because of his injury, or easier for them to say good-bye here, rather than in public. Either way, this wasn’t a permanent separation. They’d see each other soon on the circuit.

Hank wouldn’t push her for any kind of promises until after he knew where his career was headed. “Well, it ain’t gonna be easier on me, darlin’, ’cause I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“Same goes.”

Chapter Twenty-two

The trip had been a nightmare from the start. Delayed flights, long lines at the rental-car places. Brutally hot weather. Crappy motels. Snarly contestants. Jerky coworkers.

Lainie was ready to throw in the towel.

Tanna was making a special trip to see her tonight because River Bend, Texas, was a mere five hours from her family ranch. It was the only bright spot in Lainie’s long day.

Since the sports medicine room was at the opposite end of the arena, Lainie had to schlep everything from the van through twisting corridors. Lariat was shorthanded. She’d anticipated a busier than normal shift. However, she hadn’t expected Bobby, the other staffer—a local hire—to sit on his fat ass and direct her in an irritating king-to-peasant manner.

Bobby took great pains to point out that he’d earned a master’s degree in sports physiology. He snarked that he’d limit her medical help to handing him adhesive bandages, emptying the medical waste receptacle, and fetching coffee.

It’d gone downhill from there.

The fill-in doctor was a pretentious prick. Between the two men, Lainie felt about an inch high. She kept her mouth shut and did what she was told.

The event was second tier—meaning none of the top sixty EBS riders were competing. It surprised her to see two guys from the big tour hanging out in the cramped medical room with their buddy. A lot of bull riders were unbelievably cocky, which was another reason she’d chosen not to date them.