Page 39 of One Last Rodeo

She pushes back against me, chasing her orgasm like she needs another one to breathe. When her soft moan slips out and her pussy clenches around me, coming for the second time, I lose control. I bury myself inside her and come hard, my whole body locking up as the world narrows to her. Her heat. Her sound. The way she takes every pulse of me through the condom.

And then my mind screams two things at the same time: run and stay. Treat this as just a fuck, the way she is, and tell her this won’t be the last time.

When the shaking leaves my legs, I pull out carefully. She flips onto her back immediately, staring at the ceiling fan unblinking like she’s in shock.

All I can do is look at her. Then at my dick and the full condom hanging on it. Then at her body again. I try to memorize this moment. Because something tells me this is the last time this is happening. And a greater part of me tells me I’m never going to forget this night.

I want to do that again. With her.Only her.

“Hold on,” I say gently. “Let me trash this. I’ll be right back.”

I get up, pad to the bathroom, dispose of the condom, wash my hands, wipe myself off, and look in the mirror. I look different.

I take a breath. Open the door. Ready to hold her. Ready for round two. But she’s already gone, and I'm not surprised by that. The disappointment hardly even registers. Instead of thinking she’s cold for leaving without saying goodbye, I start thinking she’s so much warmer than I ever knew was possible. Because where she was lying in the sheets is still warm, and the usual fuzziness in my head is quiet.

All because she touched me.

Chapter 11 - Catalina

“I’m calling because I want to prepare you,” I say through the phone, pacing the length of my hotel room, stretching out my back and legs from the terrible sleep I got last night.

I've been awake since three. That's two hours of lying in my own hotel room staring at the ceiling, running through the same mental checklist I use before a difficult surgery. Except instead of reviewing anatomy, I was reviewing every single decision I made last night and cataloging exactly where I went wrong.

The whiskey. Staying for the second drink. Telling Jensen five things that no one else knows about me. The red lingerie. Agreeing to go back to his hotel room. All of it is forensically avoidable in hindsight. I made those decisions willingly while fully understanding the consequences.

It took me seconds before I decided to get out of his room. I've made faster decisions with someone's aorta in my hands. I grabbed my shoes, my bag, my dignity in that order, and I left before he could get out of the bathroom. Which was the right call. The only call. It was a one-time thing and no one else can know.

The fact that I stood in the hallway outside his door for another thirty seconds after it closed is irrelevant. And the fact that he didn’t check the hallway for me tells me everything I needed to know.

That was a mistake. A fun one, but a mistake that we won’t repeat. At least we agreed we’ll never discuss it again. Now we can just pretend it never happened.

I take a deep breath. “…I slept with one of the bull-riders competing in the Iron Horn Series last night.”

There’s a long pause through the receiver. “I’m sorry... You did what!?” my younger sister Daniela screamsinto the phone.

I jerk my cell away like she's going to blow out my eardrum.

"God, Dani, you're so dramatic sometimes."

I knew she’d react like this, and still, I’m annoyed. It's not like I'm a freaking virgin. I suppose going from a long-term relationship with the same man I'd been with since I was a teenager to having a one-night stand with one of my athletes is enough to make anyone want to scream.

“I’m video calling you,” she says, like that’s going to give her an explanation for what happened, and before I can hit decline, my phone vibrates with an incoming video.

I answer on a sigh that borders on a groan. Her face fills the screen—brown eyes identical to mine, the same angularcheekbones, sharp nose, the same aggressively judgmental eyebrows, except hers are softer and she's smiling this morning.

Growing up, we were always best friends. It was easy because we were so close in age. Until it felt like we were in competition for our parents’ attention. I'm not sure if she felt that way too or if I was just projecting my insecurities, but something about that drove a wedge between us, and I've been struggling to get back to the way things had been ever since.

That's part of the reason why taking this job has been good for me. It’s forcing me out of my comfort zone and to work at being a little less critical of other people and their decisions and myself. Guess that's working a little too well for me, since I let my guard down with Jensen.

“You can’t just drop that on me with no back story. I need details!”

“You don’t need to know the details,” I say. “I just didn’t want it to accidentally come up when I see you and Lawson in two weeks.”

She blinks. “And how would thataccidentallycome up in conversation?”

I have no response. It’s not like I’m planning on blurting outHey, remember how you dated your boss? Well, apparently, I’m collecting colleagues now too!

Maybe it’s not that I thought it would slip out. Maybe… I just needed to tell someone. Anyone. Because after creeping out of Jensen’s room like some sneaky ninja a few hours ago, I’ve been spiraling. Quietly. Professionally. Like a woman who absolutely does notsleep with coworkers or men who aren't her boyfriend. Because I don’t do that. I’ve literallyneverdone that. And yet here we are. Discussing my one-night stand with a bull rider at five in the morning like it’s a normal Tuesday.