Page 40 of Eight Steps to Alpha

The DJ started hollering instructions. “Only one collective hand on the bull at all time.” He pointed to Elliot. “That means you. One of you falls, ride’s over. If you can stay on sixty seconds, your bill is on us. Any questions?”

She opened her mouth to say he’d made a mistake, that in fact, they wouldn’t be riding together, but Elliot’s arm wrapped around her stomach, and she was hoisted backward against his groin. Oh my God. “I need to get down. I need to get down right now!”

But it was too late. Her last words came out as a high-pitched squeal, because suddenly, they both lurched forward as the bull sprang into action.

Elliot’s fist was gripping the horn between her thighs, his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and she yelled! “Where do I put my hands?”

“Squeeze your thighs.” Elliot demanded in her ear. “Hold onto my legs. I got you. I got you.”

It was the simplest of requests, one that made perfect sense given their current circumstance, but damn it if her lady parts didn’t throb at the sound of his voice. Soothing, deep, and so southern, it practically dripped honey onto her earlobe.

Determined to get a grip on herself, she placed on hand on each of his legs, and held on tight, just like he said, feeling his muscles move below her hands. She said a silent prayer, please lord, please don’t let make a fool of myself. Please don’t let me pee my pants.

“Place your bets ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ yelled. “Place your bets.”

Her eyes flew open, and she gazed around the arena. “Is he serious?” she yelled to Elliot.

He only laughed, then squeezed her stomach tighter.

Every time she felt herself slip forward, she squeezed her legs. Every time people started screaming, she knew they would fall off at any second…but then she remembered the rhythm. What was it? One two three, three four two one.

“Come on Fe, you can do this. Come on girl.”

His voice was barely audible in her ear, but it was said with such passion, she suddenly wanted to win. Not for the crowd, but for Elliot.

She turned her face to the side, and yelled as loudly as she could. “One two three, three four two one. That’s the rhythm.”

“What?” he shouted back.

“One two three, three four two one. Trust me. The bull, it alternates back and forth in that rhythm.”

He pulled her in against his chest, tightened his grip on the horn, and nodded.

“Here it goes!” Because the rhythm had started over again. “Forward one. Back two, forward three. Get it? Let your body absorb the moment, don’t fight it, and it will make things easier.”

He nodded his head against her side, his whiskers abrasive against her cheek. It was amazing how much easier the ride became once they got into the sync of things. Forward, back, forward, back. She let her body relax against his chest, accepting him as he leaned forward onto her, absorbing each roll, each jolt, each lunge the bull threw at them.

Every time the bull bucked forward, she allowed the movement to roll through her body—like an ocean wave to the shore. Every time in rolled backward, Elliot was there to catch her, holding her securely between his thighs.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT.” Hollering came from the bar and she opened her eyes.

“We’re almost done, Fe. Oh my God, we’re done it.” His voice was low in her ear, excited, but somehow vulnerable.

“SEVEN, SIX, FIVE.”

“We did it Fe, we did it.”

“FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, surprised by the fact she didn’t want this moment to end. “ONE!”

The bull stopped immediately, and she was lifted from the steed by the DJ and plopped on the ground. He threw his arm around her shoulder, and waited for Elliot to join them on the other side. He lifted both of their hands in the air and yelled to the crowd. “And that ladies and gentlemen, is how you ride a bull!”

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