Page 15 of Let Her Buck

Maybe, for once, I’ll let myself have something good.

Maybe I’ll let myself fall.

The cheering swells again, but this time, I don’t even flinch.

I turn my eyes back to the arena just in time to catch West taking another brutal buck from the bull, holding steady like his body was built for this chaos. The crowd is eating it up, hooting and hollering, some rising from their seats in excitement, but all I can see is him.

Muscles flexing. Dirt flying. Sweat glistening on his neck.

My mouth dries up.

He rides like he was born in the dust and forged in fire, every second on that bull a dance between danger and dominance. It’s reckless and wild and terrifying but also mesmerizing.

And somehow, even in the middle of the storm, his eyes find mine. Suddenly, the roar of the crowd fades. The noise, the chaos, the bull…it all disappears. It’s just me and him, locked in this silent stare that says everything neither of us has said aloud.

I don’t even try to pretend I’m unaffected. Images of that moment in the Ferris wheel flash in my head in erotic slides…his sexy, deep moans, the warmth of his calloused hands, the way his mouth moved over mine…

God, Laney.

Tension hums inside me, sharp and electric, until the whistle finally blows and the bull jerks to a stop.

West leaps off clean, landing on both feet like a damn action movie star. He tips his hat to the crowd, but even as he’s grinning at the cheers, his eyes find mine again.

And my legs almost give out.

I don’t wait. As soon as the announcer starts declaring scores, I’m already making my way down toward the gate where the riders come off.

He’s there before I can call out to him, striding toward me like a storm, shirt damp and clinging to his chest, dust streaking his jaw, hair messy beneath his hat. He looks like something out of a dream.

And he’s looking at me like I’m his prize.

“Hey,” I breathe, feeling shy for the thousandth time tonight.

His eyes roam over my face like he’s checking to see if I’m real.

“You stayed,” he says, voice rough from the ride.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

He’s so close I can smell the sweat and dust on his skin, the leather of his gloves, the faint scent of something darker and masculine that makes me dizzy.

“You were…” I swallow. “Magnificent.”

His jaw clenches, like the words hit him somewhere deep. “I had to be,” he says seriously. “You were watchin’.”

And then, without a word more, he grabs me. He wraps one hand around my waist, the other sliding up into my hair, and then his mouth claims mine. This kiss isn’t sweet or slow like the first.

It’s messy. Possessive. Utterly consuming.

Like he’s not just kissing me… he’s staking a claim.

There are gasps around us. A few cheers. Someone even whistles, and I think I hear Sadie somewhere squealing like she’s just won the jackpot.

But I don’t care.

Because I’ve never been kissed like this. Like someone was made just for me. Like I’m the center of the world. Like he already owns me and he knows it.

My fingers clutch his shoulders, pulling him closer, not caring about the sweat or the dust or the fact that we’re putting on a show for half the town.

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