Page 119 of The Games We Play
I wasn’t looking for cheers. I was only looking forher.
Penny was walking toward me with a smirk, radiating confidence.
Every step was deliberate, like she was stalking prey with that same deadly sway in her hips that drove me insane.
“You trying to prove something?” she asked, voice low and rough at the edges.
I grinned. “Depends. Did it work?”
Penny scoffed, but I caught the flicker of heat in her eyes before she could hide it. My hand came up, almost without thought, brushing along the curve of her jaw. If anyone was watching—which I knew they were—they’d know what I was saying without me having to spell it out.
Mine.
My chest rose and fell too fast, my breath still catching from the ride. But then I realized hers was, too. We were matched beat for beat, like the electricity between us had synced our pulse.
She stared up at me, pupils blown wide, and for one wild second, I thought this was it. I was going to kiss her, right there in front of everyone.
Claim her.
But she pulled back with a grin that was all teeth and challenge.
“I guess it’s my turn.”
Penny took a few slow steps back, her eyes not leaving mine. Then she turned, striding straight to the bull operator. She leaned over his table, both hands braced on the surface as she spoke.
My jaw slackened as I stared after her.
Her turn?
Was she really about to get on that bull?
I’d ridden it to prove something to her, to myself, to every bastard who looked at her like they had a shot. But Penny? She didn’t have a damn thing to prove. She already had me. All of me.
My heart.
My soul.
My entire fucking existence rested in the palm of her hand.
With a flick of her wrist, she turned and walked toward the bull. Then, like she was born for it, she mounted the mechanical beast in one smooth, effortless motion, swinging her leg over and settling in as though she’d done it a hundred times before.
I left the mats, standing off to the side with my arms crossed, legs braced wide. My chest tightened as I watched her adjust in her seat. I peeled my gaze away for half a second and instantly regretted it.
Like flies to shit, men of every age lined the barrier now, leaning in with wide eyes and slack jaws. Their gazes glued to her—arched back, bare legs, the dangerous little smirk tugging at her lips.
I clenched my jaw, heat simmering beneath my skin like I was the one about to buck and throw someone across the bar. My gaze snapped back to her just as she gave a small nod to the operator.
The bull jolted to life, starting in a slow, taunting spin. Penny gripped the strap with one hand, her other arm raised in the air like she’d done it before.
Maybe she had because every eye, every breath, every beat of the music belonged to her now.
As the bull picked up speed, her hips began to roll, grinding in a motion that was all confidence and heat. She didn’t just ride the bull; she commanded it. She moved in rhythm, like her body was built for this. For temptation.
I swallowed hard, throat dry, a thousand images flooding my brain. All of them of her riding me like that. That same rhythm. That same fire in her eyes.
Penny reached for her hat. With one smooth motion, she pulled it off, tossing her head back as her hair tumbled down her back in waves. She shook it out, wild and free, her smile dazzling and untamed. The kind of smile that made men stupid.
Including me.
