Page 35 of Roping My Rival

“Warren, we—”

“Shut. Up. You’re not my favourite person right now.”

We step out onto our floor, and I’m practically running to get away from him. Which isn’t helpful since we’re sharing a damn hotel room.

“But I was your favourite once before?”

So many images flash through my mind with that question. The years of his smug smile and teasing. The years I spent searching rodeo entries for his name. Him lying under his truck, fixing brakes, and the worst one…his lips on mine and the feel of him so close.

Never my favourite, but always on my mind.

“You don’t sound very confident about that. Hoping I say yes?”

Reaching our room, I fumble for my key card, but Dane already has his out. He taps it before turning the knob and pushing the door open for me. I stomp inside and vaguely hear him closing the deadbolt behind us.

After tossing my hat on the table, my fingers curl into my hair, pulling until it hurts. It doesn’t make all these mixed feelings go away.

I’ve never thought about him as anything but the thorn in my side. The one man who I could never beat. Now he’s kissed me, told me he has a sister in a care facility, and is my fucking team roping partner because I couldn’t say no to my dad. I don’t want to like him, and I certainly don’t want to want him.

But I do.

Oh, how I do.

Turning around, Dane is already half undressed. Like none of this bothers him, and he’s just going through his nightly routine. Dark hair spatters his chest, and he’s leaner than I thought he’d be. There’s a faded scar near his ribs, and when I finally meet his gaze, those ocean-blue eyes are like a tractor beam.

Fuck.

Fuck!

Crossing the small space, I shove him against the wall. His skin under my palm lights up every single ending. My breath is nothing more than sharp pants, and it feels like I’ve walked into a furnace.

“You drive me batshit, motherfucking insane.”

Dane slides his hand over mine on his chest and presses it there.

“Just another thing I’m good at,” he rasps.

“I don’t want to want you, Dane.”

His blue eyes flash with something I can’t quite read. “But you do, and we can either fuck it out or take turns jerking off in the shower.” He slides my hand on his chest to his zipper. The hardness behind his jeans is very noticeable, and my traitorous fingers curl around him.

Dane’s fingers drift to the buckle on my jeans, and he slips his fingers under my shirt. My breath hitches.

“Your call, Warren.”

I can’t form words. Instead, I slam my mouth to his while I desperately work to open his jeans. We’re a mad clash of teeth and lips with frantic hands, removing clothing.

“Fuck, you shouldn’t be this hot,” I mumble as I finally wrangle his jeans to his knees.

“Not sorry,” he grits when my hand closes around his cock. His breath comes in shorter pants as I stroke his length, and for a moment, his hands on me still. His eyelashes flutter across his cheeks as he pauses and melts into the moment. It’s…fucking beautiful and a disaster for me to even notice.

Like he knows I just caught him in an unguarded moment, he pivots and pushes me against the wall. His hands, so much bigger and rougher than mine, slide across my skin, sending bolts of white heat through my body.

Dane takes his mouth from mine to watch his hand on my dick, and I bite my lip to keep all my noises inside. He notices that, of course, and stops stroking me. With his thumb, he pulls my lip from my teeth and smooths the pad over it. “Spit,” he whispers and holds his hand under my chin.

Somehow, I have enough saliva to gather and do as he asks. “Fuuckk…” He smashes his mouth against mine again, and all I can do is struggle to remain upright.

“Put your hands on me, Warren.” Dane’s breath against my neck sends shivers along my skin.