Page 3 of Hooking Up

“A steak, for starters. I think you know my partner and I won the pot the last three events, and I can afford to buy you more than a measly drink like that bum Jeb Anderson.”

She blinked at him. Christ, she had freckles on the bridge of her nose and lightly spattered across each high cheekbone. Another body part, far more south this time, roused against his zipper.

Carter closed the gap between them.

“Whoa, watch it, Carter. My horse—”

He examined the black and brown mare with the white socks. “What about her?”

“She…” Bella’s lips fell open, the words dying on them. “That’s odd.”

“What is?” He caught a whiff of Bella’s sweet honeysuckle scent. His balls clenched tight and his cock swelled a little more.

“Josey Wheels doesn’t like men.”

He reached out and patted the horse’s flank. The animal didn’t budge. “She doesn’t like men or you don’t like men?”

She tossed her head back and loosed a tinkle of a laugh. If the freckles hadn’t done him in, the laugh would have. Dammit, he wasn’t leaving this barn without the promise of a date.

“Is that old rumor circulating again? What’s the pool up to now? Three hundred? Last I heard I was sleeping with Wynonna Calhoun.” She waved a hand and her horse, mirroring her actions, flicked its tail.

“Three-forty I think.”

She made a fizzing sound of mirth. “Men. Ya’ll think just because a woman doesn’t fall to her knees and beg for your attention that she’s got to be a lesbian.”

When she moved to the side, Carter blocked her with his body. A wall of heat washed over his skin, scorching through his plaid shirt and Wranglers. Jesus, she was going to give him third-degree burns. His cock battered his fly, demanding to be used as roughly and long as necessary to get this little vixen out of his system.

“You’re in my way, cowboy.” Was that a hitch he heard in her breath?

“I’m right where I belong. Now about that steak dinner…” He caught the delicate point of her chin between his thumb andforefinger, gazed deep into her stormy gray eyes and lowered his mouth to hers.

The first brush of her lips sent his heart cartwheeling like an amateur falling off a bull. As her flavors permeated his head—cinnamon, honeysuckle, pure female goddess—a groan rumbled in his chest. Angling his head, he deepened the kiss.

Her quiet sigh filled his mouth. The heady sensation of falling took over, and he slid his arms around her, pulling her up against his body. Every curvy inch conformed to his muscle. So right, so perfect.

Probing the seam of her lips with his tongue, he molded her to fit his shape. Her lips parted with a gasp, and he didn’t waste a second. He plunged his tongue inside.

Honey. Pure honey-cinnamon-honeysuckle goddess. He couldn’t get enough. He hitched her against him, unapologetic for the state he was in. After all, it was her fault.

Need pulsated through his veins as he swept his tongue through her mouth. When she flipped her tongue against his, a primal roar boiled in his chest. He ran his fingers up the length of her spine and curled them around her ponytail. With a small tug, he tipped her head back and drank his fill.

Dizzy with need and the urge to possess her, he took what he wanted. And she gave back with as much fervor. Each nipping bite, every glide of her tongue spoke volumes about Miss Bella Roberts.

First of all, the rumors were false. And second, he was pretty sure his wallet was going to be lighter this evening after he bought her a steak dinner.

* * * * *

The minute Quint walked into the arena and set eyes on the curvaceous cowgirl climbing into the chute, his heart did a Texastango. He stopped in his tracks to watch. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t a bull rider.

Yet she’d just slung one round, denim-clad thigh over a two-ton beast with blood in its eyes.

“Holy fuck,” he murmured, half prayer, half reverence for the woman with a set of balls big enough to think this was a good idea. There were women bull riders in the world, but most chicks stuck with gentler beasts.

Not Bella Roberts.

Quint issued a low whistle and folded his arms as someone opened the chute and the bull rushed out. As soon as Bella was whipped downward, her beautiful face nearly grazing the bull’s body, which would surely bust her nose, he stopped admiring her guts and started worrying for her sanity.

“Dammit, who let her do this?” He was no bull fighter, but he’d seen it done enough times. He sprinted into the arena, waving his arms. The beast bucked. Bella was tossed.

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