Page 67 of Reckless Hearts

“You worried about me?”

She flinches, facing down, a slight tremble running through her, ripping me apart. I’ve been such an idiot. Of course she’s scared after what happened with her dad. And I’m out here saying I’ll put it all on the line to win the championship. That facing death is a part of the sport with my full fucking chest. Guilt’s a twisting rope, knotting my gut.

All of this is because of me.

“I’ll be more careful. I won’t get hurt anymore,” I promise.

“Tell that to the bull,” she says with a hollow laugh.

“Yeah, those Harper Ridge Ranch ones are vicious.” I try to make a joke, but I’m so far off the mark. She jerks in my hold. I might as well have hit her.

I’m not good at this. I can play the crowd as the cocky rider, but these soft moments?

I’m lost. I cup her face in my palms, conscious of how delicate she feels in my hold.

“Hey, I’m really going to be okay. I’m good at this. I know when to bail when things get sticky.”

Even as I say it, it rings false.

Winning in bull riding means to be bold, reckless.

“You can’t bail if you want the championship,” Callie says, voice soft and understanding. She knows. Of course she does.

“I…” Fuck. Can I win and ride cautiously? Is that even possible?

There’s a spread between me and the guy below me, but I won’t catch Maverick.

“That’s what I thought.” Her soft lips meet mine, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I’m not asking you for that. I will never ask you to give anything but your all. Riding is your life. It’s everything you worked so hard for. Every torn muscle, blood, sweat, and tears you’ve poured into this have been to win.”

“Fuck.” I kiss her hard, teeth clinking against hers as I frantically pull her closer. She’s handing me the whole damn world, and I don’t even know if I deserve it.

We break apart, each gasping for breath, and I grit out, “This isn’t over.”

Her fingers dig into my hair, nails scraping my scalp, as she tries to take control of the kiss.

I’m barely holding on as is. I know there’s still more left we need to talk about.

“Callie,” I pant, straining to keep my shit together.

She smiles at me, and it’s so devious I already know I’m fucked before she lets go of her towel.

The white fabric hits the floor, and suddenly, it’s her skin pressed under my palm.

I groan deep in my throat, blood pulsing to my cock, making it so hard it hurts.

I’ve never claimed to be a saint, so I take what she’s offering, let her distract me away from what she doesn’t want to talk about.

I run my hand up and down her back in a slowly growing arc with each pass.

My fingers travel from the base of her neck all the way down to the swell of her ass.

Goose bumps rise under my touch, and it’s hard for me to take my next breath.

She’s so sensitive, body responding to my every move.

I shift lower, cupping her ass, andfucking come apartwhen she whimpers against my neck, pressing her hips against mine.

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