Page 123 of Burned & Bound

His first tattoos had been two phrases on his inner wrists. But with his full sleeves, they weren’t there anymore.

“No. The asshole covered them up without asking.”

“That asshole,” I said. Then, just to fuck with him, I added, “Want me to punch him?”

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he replied. “But I don’t have the fucking money to bail you out, so we’d get to see what you look like in orange.”

“Don’t work with my skin tone,” I retorted, chuckling softly.

“Why doesn’t that fucking surprise me.” His fingers trailed up and down my arm slowly. Every pass was agonizing in its own wonderful way—burning a path along my skin that surged through every inch of my body. It never ceased to amaze me how the little things he did affected me. “Do I want to know what colors work with your skin tone?”

I grinned. The only reason I even knew this shit was because of Darla. She said it helped me look good for my interviews.

“Deep greens, reds, browns, coppers…” My voice trailed off. There was no way in hell I was saying the last one.

“Oranges?” West guessed.

“Not a chance in hell,” I retorted. I opened my mouth to say something more, but West kissed me, effectively shutting me up. His tongue slid over mine, the taste of him making me moan.

Everything about him rushed to my head—a feeling I desperately wanted to crash into.But I couldn’t.It was selfish. I had too much shit on my plate with the rodeo to be fully present if he spiraled because of something we did.

“West,” I whispered, breaking away from him.

“I don’t want anything else,” he muttered against my mouth before I could say a word. “I just want to kiss you, cowboy.”

I wouldn’t argue with that. I traced the curve of his bottom lip with my thumb and felt his hold on my forearm tighten. Not to stop me but rather with anticipation. My fingers trailed over the coarseness of his beard and tangled in the curls at the back of his neck as I claimed his lips with mine.

I took my time—savored him.

Tasted him.

Shared his breath.

His fist wrung in the front of my shirt and dragged me closer, holding me against him.

“I…” West faltered, his breath fanning across my face as I waited silently. “Jackson, I…”

There was a part of me that had a strong feeling about the words he wanted to say—the words he probably didn’t know how to say. Words I’d wait forever to hear from West and never once be bothered if I never heard them.

“I know, baby,” I told him softly and kissed him once more. If he was ever ready to say them, I’d be ready to hear them. Until then, just laying in the dark kissing him and knowing some part of West loved me was more than enough.

CHAPTER 86

jackson

Banging on the doorpissed me off. I rolled away from West—thank fuck it hadn’t scared him awake—and glanced at the clock. Six. It was six in the fucking morning.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” West grumbled as it kept going. He dragged a pillow over his head. “Make them go the fuck away.”

“I’m about to fucking kill someone,” I retorted. I stormed to the door, disheveled as hell and not giving a fuck. When I threw open the door, the man standing on the other side gave me pause. He was well put together in a designer suit with perfectly trimmed hair and a perfectly shaved face. “What the fuck do you—”

“Have you seen the news this morning?” he demanded instead.

“No, considering I’ve been up all of five fucking seconds,” I growled. “Who the fuck are—”

“Gay cowboy brings his convicted murderer boyfriend to a family-friendly event.And that’s a direct title,” he snapped.Ah, fuck me. That wasn’t the kind of press I wanted.To make matters worse, the man held up a printout of an article, complete with a picture of me and West kissing after breakinginto the bull-holding area. “My favorite part is where you broke into the animal pens to make out with said convicted murder.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. I hadn’t even seen anyone else in there with us. “Who the hell are you?”

---