Linebacker's Second Chance (Bad Boy Ballers) (33 page)

The horses need fed and tended, man. What the hell are you doing?

She sighs, breathy and sweet. I can’t help but bring my hand to my cock and start stroking, my fingers brushing against the velvet smooth skin of her ass. I think of that neatly trimmed pussy just inches away from me, and a silky bead of precum forms at the tip of my cock. I let out a groan and push my whole body against hers.

The horses need tended, but so does this supple, goddamn gorgeous woman. Fuck.

I take my hand away from my cock and trail it over the skin of her hip and travel down to the sweetness of the tightest, hottest pussy known to God and man. She moans, and I think she’s fallen back into a half sleep. Gooseflesh forms over her shoulders and down her satin-smooth skin. Deftly, I slip my fingers between her legs and press my fingers on either side of her lips.
 

“Rowan,” she whispers. The whimper of need in her voice sends a roaring wave of heat to my cock, but I maintain my decorum, nestling my length between the curve of her ass cheeks. I slip my fingers down to the heat between her legs, and my fingers come away, coated with her slippery wetness. I roll my fingers over her clit in circles, bringing the wetness to the tiny, sensitive bud. Her moans come forth like music, and I move my fingers over her in time with her body, listening to her need, driving her to the edge of release and then taking my fingers away just as she starts to shiver and groan. “Rowan, that’s not fair. You can’t wake me up this way—”

“I can do whatever I want, sweetheart. And I can lay claim to this body again, can’t I? You want me to, don’t you?” I bring the tip of my index finger to her stiff, swollen clit and tap it gently. She spreads her legs in response and rolls over, spreading her legs and opening for me again.
 

“Goddammit, Rowan. Make me come. Or I’ll do it myself.” Cadence moves her hands over her tits, eyes wide open now, but I catch her by the wrist before she can move her hand lower to pleasure herself.
 

“I’ll make you come, alright. But I get to say when.” I roll her back onto her side and slip two fingers into her pussy from behind, kneading the sweet slickness of her entrance until I can bear it no longer. I slide a condom onto my length and push into her all at once, relishing the gasp she lets out when I’m all the way inside.
 

“Oh God, Rowan, Rowan, Rowan…” She starts mumbling again like she was last night, repeating my name and sighing as I thrust hard inside of her. I fill her completely, over and over again, and she shakes against me, her pussy swollen and hot with the need that runs through her. Bringing my hand around to her mound, I find her clit again and flick my fingers over it until she’s shaking and crying out that she’s coming and coming hard. She begins to writhe, her body twisting and shaking. Her pussy nearly milks me dry, but I hold off on my own pleasure, desperate for her to complete her own release before I meet mine. As the shuddering in her body begins to subside, I thrust hard into her, pounding her from behind until the tension inside of me builds and builds and I meet my own climax, complete and final.
 

I kiss her neck tenderly and pull away, moving quickly to get rid of the condom and pull on my boxers. She watches me all the while, her eyes hooded and fluttery.

 
“Why can’t we just stay in bed?” Despite her words, she gets to her feet slowly. There’s still sleep in her deep brown eyes, and she yawns dramatically.
 

“Darlin, there’s nothing better than what we just did, but hell, woman. Thera re better things in life than sleeping in. And riding in the first snow is one of them.”

She gives me a look that could melt ice or maybe desiccate a fully grown tree, but I just grin. I’m the one her that knows what she’s in for. And it almost makes me want to topple back into bed with her—that look that shows her fire, her natural inclination to push against what someone else wants, just for the sake of argument.
 

Another man might be treated by a woman with a soul like that. But I’m to just any man, and I’m trying to get her to figure that out.
 

Even with that withering look on her faced, the corner of her dark pink lips start to turn up in a smile. And no wonder—I’m standing here, grinning like a fool, watching her as she saunters around the room and lazily puts on her panties and bra.
 

“A sight you are, city princess.”
 

“City princess, huh?” She can’t hide her smile now, and the tiny gap between her bottom teeth is just barely visible. “That’s a new one.”

“You’ve graduated to princess after last night, darling. And this morning.” I stride over to her and grab her ass, then take her into my arms all at once.
 

“Then why can’t we go
later?
If you’re so pleased with me?”

I plant a kiss n her lips in response, and she melts into me for a small space in time, even tough I can almost feel that annoyance and contrariness radiating off of her.
 

“Because Eliza needs her walk. And the snow will be getting thick on the ground damn soon. I won’t make you ride, city princess, but the horses need to be walked at the very least.”
 

She huffs, but the expression on her face shows that she’ll accept. “Fine, I just need coffee and—”

“Taken care of.” I squeeze her ass so hard she almost jumps right there in my arms, then walk down the hall to my room and throw on the jeans and shirt I used for riding. That woman is many things—but speedy she is not. I hop down stairs, knowing that I’ll find an empty kitchen in front of me. Eliza trails behind, smiling that pit bull smile. She smells the jeans I’m wearing, and she’s wiggling something fierce thinking about going out there in the snow this morning.
 

By the time the smell of coffee is pouring through the kitchen, I hear Cadence on the stairs, and I swear my cock stirs as she waltzes into the kitchen, looking good enough to eat. She’s got on one of her pairs of paint-stained jeans and one of the Dartmouth sweatshirts I left in her room over a week ago. It’s not formalwear, but hell, I swear she looks just as good as she did last night.
 

She leans against the door frame. “How come you don’t have staff making coffee and tending the horses?” She lifts an eyebrow.
 

“When Joanna was here—my ex, I mean—we had staff because she insisted a man of my station needed staff.” I look her straight in the eye when I say the words. She knows I’ve got an ex, and she needs to hear every word of it. Every word of why I’m better off without that person in my life. “I still have stablehands who come to tend the horses when I can’t. And the driver and the damn porter who doesn’t know which way his head is screwed on. But no one else, not right now. I won’t lie to you and say I’m a self-made man. But I’m a man who’s making something of myself.”

She nods like this makes sense to her, pursing her lips like she’s absorbing every piece of the information. I didn’t give her a precise reason. There are lots of things hidden in those words—my desire to be a man free from hired labor, to run my ranch in peace, in the expansive solitude that New Mexico affords. And oh, that smart, beautiful woman. I can see she’s taking it all in, that she understands in a primal way. I hand her a steaming cup of coffee and take her arm and walk with her to the alcove that leads to the back patio and stable.
 

“Come on, city girl, let’s teach you about the country in the early morning.”

“Don’t you ever settle down?”
 

“Hardly. There’s no settling to be had when you’ve got a ranch to tend to.” I watch her face as she gets her sneakers on in the mudroom.
 

She’s picky and finicky like every woman from the city I’ve ever known. But hell, she’s game for any of it. I remember all the times Joanna refused to go walk the ranch with me, refused to hike up into the hills even when the weather was perfect and the sun was setting. Even though Cadence doesn’t know a damn thing about horses unless there’s some summer camp in her youth she’s not telling me about, she’s ready and willing me to follow me out to somewhere she’s never been before, something she’s never done. And that’s how it’s been with her the whole time she’s been here. Even though she’s as Manhattan as a woman can get, she’s not afraid to get dirt on her hands or gather duck eggs from the front bushes.
 

She looks up at me. “What in the hell are you looking at?”
 

I laugh and help her up to her feet. “Just you. Being beautiful.”

“You won’t be able to look at it much longer.” She knits her brows together, and I suck air in through my teeth.
 

“I’ll fly to New York, even though I don’t like it.”

“I’m serious,” she says, but I’m already pulling her towards the door that leads out back. I have a nagging feeling that I might have forgotten something, might be pushing something aside. But I push that feeling down and push us both through the door. She yelps when the cold air hits her face. There’s a dusting of snow this year, and I hear this blizzard might drop about two feet on us. It’s a damn good thing she’s just about done with the mural, because my plans involve cooking, Christmas, and sex.
 

And then what, Rowan? Will she stay then?

Before the thought is totally formed, she takes my hand and lets me lead her to the stables, even though she’ll likely be terrified as hell of the horses.
 

“So you’re riding the horses, yeah?” She turns to me, and there are snowflakes just starting to fall. They’re melting sweetly against the apples of her defined, high-set cheeks. Cadence smiles, and it’s enchanting enough to rival the sunrise.

“No, princess,” I say with a smile. “They need real exercise. You’ll be riding one, and I’ll have the other. Don’t worry. I won’t make you do any fancy moves just yet.”
 

Cadence grips my hand hard and tries to pull back to the house. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. You didn’t say anything about actually
riding
horses. I mean, not really. You were joking. You had to be joking.” Her voice is incredulous, and I could swear I told her explicitly what we were doing.
 

“Now didn’t I? You must have been too busy looking into my eyes to hear my words.”

“Oh dammit. I thought you were joking.”

She stands still for a little while longer, but then she walks with me. I can tell she’s shaking just a little bit. But still, my little city princess pushes on.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“She’s fifteen hands high. I think you’ll be able to handle her.” I gulp, looking at the splendid animal, all white with black and tan spots on her rump. Rowan runs the brush over her side, and the horse whinnies appreciatively. I look to each side and brush my hair back over my ear, my heart beating so hard that I’m afraid Rowan will be able to hear it. He looks me in the eye. “If you don’t want to ride her, that’s okay. But she needs the exercise and—”
 

I take a deep breath. “I don’t like big animals. I really don’t.” *But I want you to like me, even though there’s nothing between us, and oh God, the day is splendidly beautiful, sun shining through the snow. The sun is coming up over the mountains in the distance, casting light over the flat plains that lead up into the hills. The light is orange in some places, pink in others, and purple clouds hang over the tips of the mountains, rolling across the sky. The colors set against the snowy layer over Rowan’s grazing plains are almost distracting, and my eyes wander away as I start thinking about paint and the tone of color Star and I are using for the background behind the stars.
 

“You’ll like Symphony.”
 

“That’s her name? Symphony? First Eliza Doolittle and now Symphony? How very poetic.” A helpless smile is plastered across my face. I try to tuck the hair behind my ear again, but it’s already there, fuzzy and frizzy from not being pressed in many long days. Eliza presses her nose against my hand, responding to her name, and I stroke the top of her head absently. She presses herself against my leg, and I’m glad for the warmth.

“I didn’t name her. She came with that name. But it suits her, don’t you think?” The horse chuffs and pushes her nose against Rowan’s shirt.
 

“I guess it does. But when I came out here, I didn’t agree to ride your horses.”

“That’s the law of the land, Miss Cadence. Kid can’t come up here today because the snow is about to get thick, and this lady needs attention.” He winks at me when he says it, and I pick up the not-so-hidden innuendo. I have liked the attention, but I can’t find a way to break it to Rowan that this isn’t a date, that the other night at the fundraiser wasn’t a date. That none of it can be. Maybe I can’t say it because the thoughts aren’t fully formed in my mind, because I can’t get through my own grief enough to form the words. But regardless, the thoughts are there and they’re true. And sooner or later, I’ll need to tell him that I can’t be with him, not like we have been.

But hell, maybe he doesn’t even want me like that. Maybe I’m just a passing fancy.

A flush or embarrassment rises over my cheeks, and I’m grateful my skin is too dark to show that shit. I can feel it, hot and aching against the cold of the day, the nip of the wind pouring over both of our bodies as we stand there staring at each other, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to cave, someone to think of something.