Page 91 of One Last Rodeo

He slams into me, finally giving in, hips snapping hard enough to make the sink creak against the wall. My body jolts with every thrust, porcelain bites into the front of my hips, the pressure bruises my skin. It hurts. I don’t care. I want it to sting.

“Is this what you want?” he growls into my ear, his chest flattening against my back, his size swallowing me whole. “Because I fucked up. I know I did.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, jaw tight.

“I’m sorry for what I said when I came out of anesthesia,” he pants, thrusts turning rougher, more desperate with each time he enters me. “You're right. The first assumption is never that the woman is the doctor. That’s fucked up."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"AndI should’ve pushed that other doctor away tonight. I should’ve told him to fuck off. I should’ve said my girl already cleared me—”

My chest tightens painfully. He bottoms out hard on every thrust now, breath uneven, control slipping.

“… But I didn’t,” he says, voice breaking just a little. “I didn't see the harm in a second opinion at the time. And now you’re punishing me for a mistake, Catalina. This reaction doesn’t fit what happened. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime.”

Something in me goes still. I bite down hard on my bottom lip, holding myself together through sheer force of will. I refuse to let my body have its way. I refuse to come.

Not again.

Not tonight.

This is the last time he gets this much of me.

I hold back as long as I can—until I feel him tense, hear the broken sound he makes, feel the heat of his warm release spill inside me. When I’m sure he’s finished, I roll out from under him before he can touch me again. Before he can get me to come. I move fast. Leaving him standing there in complete shock.

I gasp as I get my footing behind him. He grunts. His hand flies to his bare cock, still half-hard, still dripping a little, realization hitting him all at once that I didn’t finish.

His glare is pure disbelief. “All that,” he snaps, “because I got a second doctor’s opinion on my shoulder? You’re acting like I betrayed you!”

I scoop my bra off the floor and yank it on, shove my arms into my shirt, and drag my pants up without bothering with panties.

“Yes.”

I turn to leave. He catches my wrist to stop me.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs; boxers damp in the front from where his come spilled out. He drags them up his legs with his free hand, chest heaving like he ran a mile instead of fucking.

“You’re not going anywhere until we talk,” he says. “And until I take care of you.”

“I’ve been doing just fine on my own for years.”

I reach for the door. He slams his palm against it, blocking me from leaving, pupils blown wide, breath ragged.

“Catalina,” he says hoarsely. “We both know what we have isn’t something you just throw away.” He swallows hard. “I’m falling for you. If you walk out of here, you're the one choosing to end this.”

He’s falling for me?My heart races. I lift a hand, shaking my head before he can say another word. “I won’t be at your next ride.”

His brow creases. “What? You’re quitting the Series?”

“I’m staying in San Jose. I took a surgery case here.”

“Okay…” He blinks. “So, what, you miss Seattle? But you'll be back for Charlotte and the semis... right?”

I should be. It’s important and the team needs me. This is what I signed up for. This is what I’m paid to do. I never start something and quit halfway. I always finish the job.

But standing here—with Jensen half naked, my heart half broken—I don’t know if I can keep going without figuring out the mess in my head. I don’t want to hurt Jensen. And I don’t want to hurt anymore either. Both of those things depend on me dealing with my past. Healing from the trauma and insecurities Davis caused.

I don’t answer his question. “I saw my ex today.”