Impact (4 page)

“I promise.”

Jessica ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed. Flopping down next to it, she blew out a loud breath. Why did Conner act so strangely around her? She resolved to find out.

Chapter Three

Conner felt bowed up like a Halloween cat. He couldn’t get the look on Jessica’s face out of his mind. Muttering to himself, he wiped the rosin off his bull rope for about the hundredth time.

“Buddy, you all right?” Brady asked from his spot next to him.

“No,” Conner admitted.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

“Okay. Well, I’m here. You know that.” He squeezed Conner’s shoulder and went back to preparing his own rope.

“Thanks, man.” He was grateful Brady hadn’t pushed. In the mood he was in right now he just might spill his guts. He knew Brady would understand. Hell, when it came down to it he doubted Brady would even be shocked.

This is some seriously fucked-up shit. I gotta talk to somebody before my damn head blows off.

He turned to Brady. “I know you’re tired, but could you see your way clear to having a drink with me tonight?”

“Of course I can. Something going on that I should know about, dude?”

Brady must’ve sensed how fucked up he was to agree so quickly. Conner sighed. “Look, man, I don’t wanna scare you. I’m not gonna off myself or anything like that. I’m…confused about something and it’s eating me alive.”

“No problem, bud.” They finished their work in silence and made their way to the chutes. Conner set to watching the competitors, steadfastly ignoring everything else around him. The last thing he needed was a pint-sized, big-breasted distraction. His finely honed competitive sense led him to an 88 that night and he took down sixth place. Better than getting bucked off.

Later that night, Brady and Conner found a sports bar and took a booth in the back area, away from the noise of the bar. Conner removed his favorite piece of clothing, a worn brown leather duster. He’d had it since he’d started riding bulls, and it was somewhat of a good luck charm at this point. It was beaten to hell, but that just made it more comfortable. After placing their order with the waitress, Brady leaned back in the booth, splaying one arm out on top of it. Conner knew he was waiting for him to bring up whatever was wrong, and since he’d asked his friend here he couldn’t be chickenshit now. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about at the beginning?”

“Smart ass.”

“Bud, you haven’t been yourself since you got here. I can see that. But if you don’t wanna tell me why, then don’t. We’ll sit back, relax, have a beer and laugh at the other riders.”

Conner smiled. Both of them had finished in the money in the event, a fact which Conner was very grateful for, considering the mess swirling around in his head. He knew the winning ways wouldn’t continue if he didn’t figure out what the fuck to do about Jessica though.

“It’s a girl.”

Brady nearly spit out his beer. “A girl has you looking like this?”

“Yep. Sad, huh?”

“What is it about this girl that’s tying you in knots? And who is she? How long’ve you known her?”

Sighing, Conner reached for his beer, taking a long, fortifying drag. “If I tell you something, something I’ve never told anyone, I need to know it stays right here at this table. I’m serious, man.”

“What the fuck, Conner? What’s this all about?”

He leaned forward and looked his friend in the eye. “Your word, Brady. I need your word.”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone. I’d never violate your trust. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Conner replied. “I just had to hear it straight from you.”

The waitress brought over their food and Conner took a few bites, knowing he might not be able to eat later if his stomach continued to pitch as badly as it was right now.

Finally Brady broke the silence. “You can’t leave me in suspense like this, man. You’re killin’ me. I’m imagining all kinda scenarios here.”

Conner gave his friend a humorless smile. “I’m gonna come out and say it.” Brady motioned to get on it with it. Conner took a breath and expelled it hard. “I’m a Dom. I’m into BDSM. Someday I wanna live the lifestyle full-time.”

“A Dom? Like an actual Dom? Someone calls you Master ’n shit?” Brady looked incredulous and Conner was sorry he’d brought it up, but knew he’d have to follow through now. He couldn’t drop a bomb like that and then clam up.

“No one calls me Master. I don’t have a sub—at least, not a full-time one. I have a couple of girls I play with back in Dallas.”

“Wow. I mean, I knew you liked to take charge, hell, so do I, but I’ve never gone to any clubs or shit. What’s it like?”

Conner waved his hand. “We can talk about it some other time. Being a Dom isn’t my problem, per se. The problem is I met a girl yesterday. Here. Her name is Jessica. She’s a liaison between the stock contractors and the NBT. I saw her talking to one of them yesterday. She was giving him hell for not havin’ his paperwork done right.” He smiled as he recalled the look she’d given the bastard. “She threatened to disqualify his bulls if he didn’t turn in the stuff to her and he grabbed her. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d pried his hand off her arm and run him outta there.”

“He grabbed her? That asshole.”

“That’s what I said. Anyway, she looked up at me like I was ten feet tall, and I looked down at her—I mean, really looked at her—into her eyes, and my brains scrambled. Dude…she’s a natural submissive. She may not know it, but she is. I backed away from her so fast I’m surprised I didn’t leave skid marks on the damn floor.”

“I’m confused. Why did you back away?”

“Because I wanted her so fuckin’ bad. My brain was screaming at me to go all Dom on her and order her to tell someone how that dickhead had treated her. I wanted to protect her and kill that son of a bitch. But I don’t even know her. I don’t know if she’s into the lifestyle—hell, I doubt she has any idea she has those submissive tendencies. Plus, I can’t get involved in some BDSM relationship with a chick who works on the tour. It’d be career suicide if something went wrong.”

“And what makes you so sure something would go wrong?”

“I don’t know, man. One minute she’s looking at me like I’m a prime cut of Sunday beef and the next she’s running like I’ve got herpes or something.”

Brady’s mouth began to curve into a smile.

“Don’t say it, asshole,” Conner growled.

His friend held up his hand. “You started it.”

“Anyway, she’s gonna be on tour with us and I don’t know how long I can resist her. She does something to me, man…”

“So what would it hurt, really, to see how it goes?”

Conner looked at Brady. Had his friend’s brains short-circuited from being bucked off too many times? “Man, you know as well as I do the NBT isn’t exactly liberal. They’re a pretty conservative bunch. Can you imagine what would happen if anyone ever found out what I am? What I like to do?”

“How would they find out?”

“Who knows? I just can’t take the chance.”

Brady waved him off. “You’re too paranoid about this stuff. It’s your life. You’re an adult. You can do whatever the fuck you want as long as it’s consensual.”

“Easy for you to say,” Conner grumbled.

Brady grinned. “I say if you want her, fuck it. Go for it.”

Conner pinched the bridge of his nose. The entire conversation was giving him a headache. “Maybe. I dunno. Anyway, thanks for coming out and talking. I appreciate it, man. There ain’t many people in this world who I’d trust with this kinda shit.”

“Not a problem. And don’t forget, I want to hear all about these sex clubs you go to. They sound fuckin’ hot.” He smirked and Conner shook his head.

“It’s only one club, and it’s not that big a deal.”

“Uh-huh. You’re not puttin’ me off that easy. I’ll let you go for tonight, but sometime soon I’m gonna corner you with a twelve-pack and you’re gonna tell me all about this sex club.”

Conner snorted. “You think a twelve-pack’s gonna make me talk?”

“Since you hold your liquor worse than a girl, yeah.”

“You really are an asshole.”

Now Brady grinned. “That’s why we make a great team. You are too. Ready?”

* * * * *

Jessica stashed her suitcase in the closet of her hotel room and headed for the bathroom. Six hours on a plane always made her feel gross. After showering, she slathered on her favorite cherry-scented body lotion—the only real nod to her femininity she bothered with on the road. She’d gotten stuck in a different hotel than a lot of her coworkers, but she figured she could use the alone time. The tour could be a stifling atmosphere sometimes, and especially after the ridiculously long plane ride from New York to Sacramento, she needed a few hours to decompress.

Grabbing the erotic romance she’d been reading on the plane, she headed down to the hotel bar, intending to sequester herself in a little booth, order up a big, juicy steak and lose herself in the trials and tribulations of the hero and heroine. She’d settled down with her favorite drink, a Cosmopolitan, in front of her when a shadow fell over the table. She looked up to see Conner standing there.

“Are you meeting someone?” He indicated the other seat at her table.

“No.” He had removed his brown leather duster, one of the sexiest items of clothing she’d ever seen as it lent him a sort of lawless air, and then sat down before she could say another word. Her brow briefly furrowed. What was he up to? He’d motioned the server over and ordered a beer by the time coherent thought formed. “What are you doing here?”

Conner smirked. “Same as you, I’m guessing. Heard there was a bull riding competition in town.”

Jessica huffed out an impatient breath. “No, I mean, what are you doing,” she waved her hands across the table at him, “here?”

“Having a drink with a beautiful woman.”

“But—”

“Shhh.” He put two fingers over her mouth, gently dragging them along her bottom lip. “Don’t think.” He leaned back. “Did you order food?”

“Um, yeah.” She was still trying to decipher his mood.

“What’d you get?”

“A steak.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A woman after my own heart. I like it.” The server dropped off his beer and he said, “I’ll have another of whatever she’s having for dinner.” Turning back to her, he asked, “What?”

“Just like that? You don’t know what I ordered.”

“You ordered a steak. That’s good enough for me.” He stretched his long, well-muscled legs out to the side and leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. “So I wanna apologize for being an asshole the other day.”

“There’s no need—”

“Are you gonna let me apologize or are you gonna argue with every single thing I say?” She shut up, her heart hammering in her chest and her sex heating at the steely tone of his voice. “That’s better. Anyway, I was kinda going nuts and I didn’t know how to handle it.” She still didn’t say anything. She figured if he wanted her to speak he’d tell her. He raised an eyebrow at her continued silence. “Are you obeying me or are you just pissed and not gonna talk?”

“Obeying is a strong word,” she shot back, hoping to gain some equilibrium. “Let’s say I got the feeling if you wanted me to talk you’d tell me so.”

He swore softly and she had to work to conceal her grin. She was getting to him. She, plump, plain Jessica Talbot from Nowhereville, Texas, was getting to a prime specimen of man like Conner Raub. Oh, and what a prime specimen he was. Conner had jet-black, wavy hair cut just a little too short for her to really get a good grip on. Then there were the dark eyes she knew turned almost black when he was angry or, she suspected, aroused, a nose broken at least once, probably by a bull, and a mouth she wanted to sink into and never let go of. His forearms, which were currently crossed over a gorgeous chest outlined by the thin fabric of his shirt, were corded with muscle and even more muscles strained the sleeves of said shirt as her gaze wandered toward his biceps. He had a narrow waist, though, and an ass she could bounce her prized collectible Susan B. Anthony silver dollar off. Her mouth watered.

He leaned forward. “You’re a treasure. Fucking hell, what you do to me.” He ran the rough pads of his fingers down the side of her face. “Gorgeous.” Her gaze dropped to the table, but he grabbed her face in his big hand and tugged up. “What?”

“I’m not gorgeous,” she mumbled, pulling her face away and turning to look out at the bar. He pulled her back around, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were flashing with a mixture of desire and anger. She swallowed thickly.

“I don’t
ever
want to hear you put yourself down,” he said, his voice soft but deadly. Her sex clenched and she felt her nipples abrade the fabric of her bra. Was he going to make her come from his voice alone? She was in big trouble. She ran her tongue over parched lips. “Dammit!” he snarled just before he half-stood and leaned in to take ownership of her lips. And ownership was the only way she could describe it. He nipped, he sucked, he laved—he utterly possessed. She melted into his kiss.