Page 78 of One Last Rodeo

I take another step away from him. “I need to go. But listen to me—if you screw this up with her? You’ll never be happy. You’ll chase the next shiny thing, the next exit, the next person to hurt. It’ll be your legacy. Not your surgery success rate, not the bones you fix, the hearts you hurt.”

He pushes off the wall and steps toward me. “That’s not fair. I never meant to hurt you. The thing with her just… happened. I can’t explain it. I didn’t plan on her getting pregnant.”

My chest tightens.Of coursehe didn’t plan on the pregnancy. He planned on marrying me, keeping his mistress on the side, living two separate lives until the secret got too big to hide. Or maybe I'd never notice considering I was so focused on my career. Or maybe... an even scarier thought... I would find out down the road when I was much older and decide I didn’t care.

And I—his ex-fiancée—would always be the second-tier choice. The one he brings to hospital galas because it looks good for twosurgeons to be married to each other, but behind closed doors, he'd prefer the thrill of his affair partner.

I take a large step back, feeling hollow, a bit embarrassed that this is happening, exposed, and whollyhurt.

“Goodbye, Davis.”

“Catalina, wait—”

My eyes narrow. “It’s Doctor Alba. See you in surgery on Wednesday.”

Then I shove open the hospital exit door and step into the sun, shaking my head the entire walk across the parking lot as if that could rattle the last traces of him out of my system.

It won’t. But Jensen’s already starting to take up the space left by the holes he carved into me.

Chapter 24 – Jensen

“What the hell is that song you're whistling?” Dawson asks as he comes up behind me in the stretching room I've claimed as my own inside the San Jose arena.

Heath just finished his fifth check on my shoulder and gave me the all-clear for tonight, but the flight back from Nashville left my hips tight. I figured I'd spend a little extra time loosening up before heading out there for my first ride.

Okay, my hips aren't just tight from the flight. They're tight from fucking Catalina on every surface of her hotel room this morning. I've been enjoying twisting her body up into different positions, discovering how flexible she is. Butfuckit gets me right in the glutes every time unless I warm up properly.

That’s the problem with being in your thirties and an athlete who’s lived a rough life.

I grin without looking up at him. “It'sThe Thong Song.”

He groans. “Whatever you're thinking about right now, I don't want to know. I wish I'd never asked.”

He has no idea. No one does. No one knows that I spent our short time off in the mountains of Tennessee with my head between the thighs of the most beautiful woman in the world. That I peeled lace thongs and lingerie in a rainbow of colors off her round ass and perfect pussy like it was my personal religion.

I don't think I'll ever get enough of the fact that Catalina walks around all day and night in lingerie that no one gets to see but me. That I learned the exact sound she makes right before she comes apart. That I’ve felt all the warm, pliant parts of her that she hides from everyone else.

I can still taste her if I lick my lips just right. And I’ve been doing it. Absentmindedly. Constantly. To the point they’re almost chapped from all the licking and sucking, like I might somehow pull the memory of her taste back onto my tongue.

It was a good memory.

“What? You and Lo didn’t have enough sex in Hawaii?”

He rolls his eyes. “I will never discuss my married sex life with you. You're like one of my nephews. But if it'll give you peace of mind, it's even better than it was before we got married.”

“You're only ten years older than me. When are you going to stop acting like my dad?”

He sighs. “Never. You need to focus. Are you ready to get back on that bull?”

I grin, roll my shoulder and stretch it out. “Yep. Heath and Doctor Alba cleared me to ride tonight.”

“Good. Big crowd.” He nods toward the door. “If we need a second opinion on that shoulder, I can get one—”

“We don't,” I cut him off.

Because I trust her, and she already cleared me. There’s no need for any other opinions. I know she sent me to have Heath look at it this morning more out of procedure than because she needed his expertise. I trust her with my body. With my bones. With the thing inside my chest that I’ve never handed over to anyone else before.

He claps my shoulder and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him. The second it does, the thought hits me hard and low: I’m starting to trust her with not just my physical heart, but my real, emotional heart, too. That realization scares the absolute shit out of me—especially since we haven’t talked about whatthisis. No labels. No rules. Just heat, hands, mouths, and a whole lot of moaning.