He also looks fucking delicious. Dark and mysterious with his hat pulled down low on his face, charcoal shirt under his bull riding vest, and those simple warm brown chaps.
So. Good.
When he hops down to go stretch and warm up, my momentary calm dissolves and the nerves creep in.
I hate the feeling. I hate that I’m having it. I’ve come to terms with death in a lot of ways. Knowing that your time could come at any moment at such a young age does weird things to you. Somehow, the thought of me dying is easier to swallow than the thought of having to sit here in the stands while something might happen to Rhett.
I don’t want to be this girl, telling him not to take risks because my heart can’t take it. So, I push it down, like he told me he does.
I take a few big swigs of beer and let myself eavesdrop on the surrounding conversations. And when it’s Rhett’s turn, I take bigger gulps.
I watch him every moment, absently aware that it could be the last. It’s like time slows down. I see his cocky smile, the way his cheeks fold beside his mouth when he gives it. I can almost feel the raspiness of his beard on my neck just by watching him.
He pulls at the bull rope, looking hypnotized, and I try to slip into that too.
And then he does something he’s never done. He peeks up at me from beneath the brim of his hat, like he knew exactly where I was sitting.
He winks at me.
And then he nods, and the gates fly open.
* * *
“You were so close.”
The rippling of water sounds as Rhett swipes a facecloth over my back. This shitty hotel bathtub is too small for the two of us, but we’re packed into it anyway. He told me if I’m going to continue to force him to take Epsom salt baths that I have to come in with him.
So here I am, seated between his legs in the hottest, smallest bath known to man.
While Rhett Eaton washes me. And kisses me.
This is how I want to go.
“Ah, if I’m going to lose to someone, I’d have it be Theo. Give him a year or two, and he’ll be winning left and right.”
“So, like...a newer, shinier version of you?” I tease, but it ends in a gasp when he wraps my hair around his fist and gives it a tug.
“Watch that pretty little mouth, Summer,” he murmurs against my ear.
His erection presses against my back, but we’ve mostly ignored that in favor of just soaking for a bit.
“Or what?” My lips tip up as I glance over my shoulder, hoping to egg him on.
He chuckles, making goosebumps race over my flushed skin. “Or nothing. I’m out of condoms.”
“I don’t know if they taught you this at cowboy school, but I can’t get pregnant from giving blowjobs.”
He reaches around and roughly squeezes one of my breasts as he pulls me back against him. “Jesus, woman. The things that come out of your mouth sometimes.”
I giggle and soften against him. “Fine. Fine. You started it.”
“Started what?”
“This.”
I feel the rumble in his chest against my shoulders. “I did not.”
“You did. You kissed me first,” I joke.