The Bull Rider Wears Pink (9 page)

John wrapped his other arm around
her and pulled her head under his chin. With her ear pressed against his cotton
T-shirt she could hear his heart thumping. “It's okay,” he whispered. He ran
his fingers through her hair pushing it off her face. “It's okay,” he told her
again.

“Everyone is embarrassed by me,”
Cassidy moaned miserably. She wiped her eyes with her fist. She didn't want to
cry all over John, but she didn’t pull out of his arms. “Carrie Wang, Caleb's new
wife, won't even look at me,” she sobbed.

“No,” John said. His nose inches
from hers. “That can’t be.”

“My entire family thinks I'm a slut.”
Cassidy wept even louder. Maybe she just needed to accept she had to tell her
tale.
A soul cleansing of sorts.
Something she thought
she'd do behind Logan's barn or out by the
stream not against John Risk's chest. “How am I supposed to build a
relationship with my son?” she asked.

“This is because of that job we did
in Venice
Beach.”
All the compassion had disappeared from Pastor John's face and voice, replaced
by L.A. John’s determination. He was in take charge, problem solving mode.
“We'll talk to your family.”

Cassidy shook her head. “If we tell
them about me, they will probably put two and two together and figure out
you're not a man of the cloth.” Even though she vetoed his idea she really
liked this combination of the two Johns, a rare glimpse at the feminine side of
masculinity.

“Oh hell,” John said. He rubbed his
hand down his face. “You're right,” he added.

“Anyway,” she told him. “No amount
of forgiveness from my family is going to help me,” she clarified. “I left my
son behind and it was wrong,” Cassidy said firmly. She pulled away from John's
chest. Okay, she was done with the group hug. It was time to regain her cowgirl
sensibility buck up and move on out.

Except Cassidy
didn't pull herself off the bed.
Maybe it was because John's hand had slipped lower and was now rubbing her
back, little circles around her vertebra. Or maybe it was because he was still
listening carefully to what she had to say.

“No,” he replied firmly, “I won't
accept that. The undercover work you did was important and it saved lives, it
wasn't wrong.” He kissed the top of her forehead. She could feel the bristles
from his
four
o’clock
shadow. “Please forgive
yourself
,” he begged, his breath caressing her eyelashes.

She shook her head. “I…” she
whispered. She tipped her chin up to tell him her decision was final but his
lips collided against hers. Before she knew it her blood was boiling and her
fingers were digging into John's muscular back. Oh God, he felt so good.

“Why?” she
whispered against his mouth still trying to hold on to some semblance of the
conversation that brought her to his room.
Except it was impossible because the compassionate, kind minister was gone replaced
by the sexually demanding undercover
cop.
His tongue
invaded her, sweeping her mouth with lascivious familiarity. With a moan she
pulled him closer.

“Please,” he insisted. “Let it go,”
he ordered. His lips worked their way from her mouth to her ear licking her
along the way. The moisture from his tongue felt wet and warm against her
sensitive skin.

Gripping his shoulders Cassidy
cried. “No.” She wasn't sure if she was saying no to letting go of her guilt or
to continuing their embrace. She ran her palms down the ridges of his back.
Then she pulled at the edges of his T-shirt. She needed to rub her cheek
against his bare chest. Feel the soft, fuzzy hair between his nipples.

Once his shirt was off, his fingers
found her hair. He tugged at the band holding it back. She did the same for
him. Lifting his hair up and letting it cascade between her fingers and fall to
his shoulders. It was thicker than she remembered.

Before she knew it, his lips were
back on hers. “You have to forgive yourself,” he demanded as he claimed her
mouth again. She pulled his hair and shook his head back and forth. He
chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest which she felt against her breasts. “You're
not going to get off that easily, Cassidy Cooper,” he whispered to her.

Rather than argue she fell back
onto the bed taking him with her. His hair tumbled across her face. She rolled onto
her side and kicked off her boots. Then she climbed onto him, straddling his
hips. She could feel his hardness through his jeans. Dear Lord, no matter the
consequences, she wanted him. Maybe if she had sex with him, he’d give up on
forgiveness.

“You can't make me do anything I
don't want to do, John Risk.” Cassidy ground her pelvis into him. He moaned.

“Maybe I can,” he groaned at her as
his fingers worked their way under her blouse. It was red
checkered
with snaps in the front. The snaps popped. She wore a red bra too. It was her
way of celebrating her ride with the men. But now she was riding only one man
and he was a rough ride.

John grinned as he sat up, Cassidy
on his lap. “Woo-wee, I like the red.” He buried his face in her cleavage. Not
that she had much cleavage but John was good at putting his big hands on either
side of her breasts and making cleavage.

Then his tongue was on her right
nipple through the lace of her bra. “Jesus H. Christ, I love your breasts,” he
told her as he licked and nibbled.

Cassidy panted while holding onto
his head.

“I'm going to keep doing this,” he
told her after another nibble, “until you forgive yourself. Do you understand?”
he asked. “You did the best you could for Kevin.” He licked some more. “You
need to let it go.”

Even though it was sweet, sweet
torture, she couldn't let go of her regrets. They were too deep. She tipped her
head back and roared like an animal, “
Noooo
,” again.

But he wasn't listening as he went
to work on her other breast. The licks she could tolerate and the nibbles were
fine, but the bites grew harder each time he asked her to forgive herself. She cried
out again and again, even pounding on his back. But he didn't stop.

“I won't let you do this to me,”
she panted at him.
Her fingernails raking down his arms.
“You can't make me forgive myself.”

John wasn't buying any of it. “Okay,”
he said rationally. “You asked for it.” His hand went to the zipper on her
jeans, he tugged. “I guess I'm going to have to bring out the big guns.” He
pulled down.

Cassidy reached for his fingers.
Big guns, no he couldn't do that. Kevin was a few doors away and—”I've got to
ride tonight,” she told this man whose other hand was still on her breast. She
couldn't have sex. She didn't want to be sore. And, big guns, what sort of man
says something like that?
Probably a man who hasn’t had sex
in a long time.

“I'll leave you alone if you
forgive yourself,” John replied logically.
Which was so completely
wrong of him to ask, using sex to blackmail her.
But so like the man in L.A.
that Cassidy had fallen hopelessly in love with.

“This is stupid,” she finally said.
She had to regain her senses. But he had already started to push her jeans
down. “Oprah would never recommend a method like this to get someone to accept
forgiveness,” she lectured him.

John stopped. Thank God for Oprah.
The woman had sway. He pulled back from Cassidy’s breast and tipped his chin up.
Then he pushed the hair out of his face. “Since I only watched the reruns,” he
explained. “I must have missed that episode,” he told Cassidy, “because I don’t
remember anything about sex being a bad way to find forgiveness.”

His hand reached around and popped
the clasp on her bra.

So much for
Oprah.

“You're a minister,” she told him
covering her naked breasts with her hands while he continued to slide her jeans
off. If Oprah didn't get him to stop maybe that certificate he had in his
pocket. “Aren't you supposed to be pure or something?” she suggested lifting
her hips.

Then all conversation stopped as he
pulled back to stare at her. “A red thong,” he whispered, eyes blazing. “To
match your red bra,” he added. “Sweet Jesus, Cassidy Cooper, you certainly know
how to turn a man on.” He tipped his head back and yelled, “Yee haw.”

Before she knew it, his mouth was
back on her body. But this time he didn't ask her to forgive herself because
with devout determination he licked his way down to her stomach. Her body
withered under the feel of his lips and warm wetness flooded her most sensitive
of parts as he worshipped her. She was his personal shrine. The more she cried
out, the more he found another part of her that needed his blessing.

Then his jeans were off and he was
hovering above her, ready to enter her most sacred of places. Forgetting all
her promises, guilt, and confessions Cassidy pushed her hips up toward him.
There was an ache inside her that needed John Risk’s attention.

He pulled back, the first he’d done
that all afternoon. “I don't have a condom,” he told her. “I didn't think I'd
reconnect with you in this way.” He backtracked. “Well, I was hoping to
reconnect with you but I didn't think it would really happen.” Then he ran a
hand through his hair. “I thought if I bought birth control I would jinx it so
I don’t have a condom.”

Cassidy had to respect a
superstitious man as she pressed herself toward him again. Honestly, she heard
his words but they didn’t register with any meaning because he was pushing
against her again and then he was in her. She could feel the length of him and
she didn't slide away or demand he stop.

“I'll be gentle,” he started to
negotiate. “I'll pull out,” he added. “I promise.” Then he put his hands on her
hips and slammed himself home. She moaned and rolled her head. He was just too
damn irresistible to think about consequences at that moment.

“Oh, John, damn you,” she cried out.
“Why do you do this to me?” She wrapped her fingers around his head and held
his lips at her neck. He nuzzled her with his nose, made her skin goose bump
with his breath and planted his other hand on her butt as he pushed into her
again. “I shouldn't be doing this,” she continued. “I don't want to get
pregnant.” Then again, Cassidy had always been reckless.

Trying to gain some sort of control
over the situation, she pulled his head up to eye level. But instead of telling
him to stop, she said, “No pregnancy.” She looked into his unfocused pupils. “Do
you hear me?” She shook his head back and forth. “No baby out of this moment of
indiscretion,” her voice losing all its conviction as her climax exploded.

* * * *

After kissing Cassidy on the
forehead John rolled off of her.

No, he didn’t respect her wishes
and pull out. Honestly he couldn't help it. His entire soul needed to be with
her until the end. Yes, he was selfish and an idiot but he wanted her.

No matter how inappropriate his
behavior
was, he knew deep down he also wanted to plant his
seed in her. Yes, it sounded barbaric, even vulgar but it was the only way he
could think of to unite her with him because he was positive she’d say no if he
proposed marriage.

Was it a healthy way to go about
creating that bond—absolutely not?

But guess what, John wasn't very
good at making healthy decisions even after receiving a certificate in
religious training. And Cassidy certainly had a wild way about her too. Maybe
they needed this. Maybe a child would force them to drop all their emotional
baggage and just be together. No questions asked.

John turned his head and looked at
her. With her forearm over her forehead she was staring at the ceiling. “You
okay?” he asked. For a man who had studied comfort words he wasn’t coming up
with much to say.

“I'm a reckless, careless, hasty
person,” she told him. She moved her forearm over her eyes. “I've always been
that way.” She let her arm flop onto his chest. “That's why I did this with you
and that's why I'll never find peace.”

He tried to hold her hand but she
pulled it away. Since he couldn't ease her with his body he decided to try
words again. “You're also adventurous, brave, and bold.” He rolled toward her.

She continued to stare at the
ceiling. She didn't even smile. Then she sat up. “I'm going home,” she
announced. She dug around the bed looking for her jeans. With a slap on John's
thigh she pulled them out from under his butt. When she found her thong, she
shoved it in her pocket.

As she pulled her blouse on and
snapped it together, John tugged his underwear on and stood up. “Why,” he asked,
“do you have to leave now? He looked around the room. He wanted to find something,
anything to keep her from leaving. Then he remembered what got her over here.
Talk. “We could talk some more,” he suggested.

She shook her head, pushed her feet
into her boots and was gone before John had a chance to come up with a better
idea. “Okay, no sex or talk,” he negotiated with his recently slammed door. “What
about a walk?” He knew he was lacking as always but he wasn't going to stop
trying. He lost her once due to his stupidity and he wasn’t going to lose her
again.