Page 90 of Hung Up
He sighs, turning his body to face mine. “Just because I didn’t reply doesn’t mean I didn’t read your texts, kid. She said she wants you, and that’s great. So does that mean your deal is over? Are you going to try and make long-distance work? Or does she still see this ending after the championships because she doesn’t think it’ll work in the long run?”
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. It kills me to admit it, but he’s right. After we booked our plane tickets, we never talked about it. We’ve just been going through life like we had before. We never defined what this was or where it was heading—if things were different. I know she is still nervousabout making things work, but I took the fact that she said she wanted me to mean that she saw a future with me, too. That she wanted to be with me after the championships.
But what if I’m wrong?
“The fact that you never talked about it concerns me,” he states, pulling me out of my spiral before I fall in too deep. “You have got to start asking the questions, Jesse. You can’t just keep accepting whatever she gives you without any reservations. And before you get mad at me, I do want it to work for you, I really do. She’s a great girl, and I can see how happy she makes you despite the rocky road it was getting here. But you deserve to know what her saying she wants you to mean.”
I nod, unable to form a coherent thought. Once again, he’s right—I need to talk to her.
Pushing myself out of my seat, I take a couple steps down the row to see if she’s here yet, when Wyatt calls out, “Why did you forfeit last weekend? Why did you risk your spot in the standings?”
“I needed to make sure Faith was okay. She’s more important to me than all this,” I tell him, gesturing around the arena.
“You’ve wanted this for as long as I’ve known you. This is your life.”
Shaking my head, I give him a somewhat sad but also content smile. “Not anymore.”
Two hours later—once bulls are drawn, lineup decided, and the arena filling up—I track Faith down in the media room. She’s frantically typing away at her computer when I slip inside, closing the door behind me and resting my back against it.There’s a deep furrow in her brow, her bottom lip between her teeth.
She’s so cute when she’s this focused.
“How does it feel being back?” I ask when she finally looks up, giving me a wide smile.
“Great.” She sounds so relieved that it makes my heart clench. Who would’ve thought that the day would come when Faith not only felt comfortable but also wanted to be here? She really has come such a long way. “Is it weird to say I missed the smell of the dirt when I work?”
I laugh, nodding. “A little bit. But it’s music to my ears.”
Faith slips out of her chair and walks over to me, and I have to try my best not to start drooling at the sight of her. She’s got her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, the front pieces twisted in almost a crown around her head. Her jeans are skin tight and flare at the bottom, the white boots I got her poking out. The denim vest she’s wearing matches her jeans, and a black lace see-through top underneath it.
It’s like she was meant to be here.
Resting her hands on my shoulders, she leads me over to a chair and pushes me to sit, lowering herself onto my lap to straddle me, and my dick immediately starts to harden underneath her. My eyes flutter shut briefly, a stuttered breath slipping past my lips as her arms wrap around my neck. She presses a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose, and suddenly, everything I came in here to talk about flies out of my head, replaced by all the things I want to do to her here on this very table.
“What if I told you I wanted to bend you over this table and fuck you until you’re screaming my name?”
“I’d say whatever you need, Pretty Boy.”
I tip my head up, capturing her perfect, plump lips with my own. The kiss starts slow, savoring one another like we have allthe time in the world. But I know that we don’t. I grip the back of her neck with my right hand, angling my head to deepen the kiss as I press my lips more firmly against hers. She meets me halfway, giving me the same in return, her hands fisting my hair and pulling a moan up my throat. The sound only seems to spur her on, and when she yanks my head back, my hat tumbles off my head and onto the floor as she starts to kiss my neck.
My left hand digs roughly into her hip as she grinds against me, her breath coming out in pants as she nips at my ear. I pull her back to my lips, letting my hand fall away with the intention of picking her up and laying her flat on this table so I can get a taste of her sweet pussy when there’s an announcement made over the intercom.
“Rides will start in ten minutes.”
My head falls against her shoulder, which causes her to chuckle. Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room for a few minutes as we both try to gather our bearings. She slips off my lap, her eyes landing on the hardon I’m still sporting in my jeans, a sly smile on her face as she holds a hand out and pulls me out of the chair. I try to adjust myself, thinking of whatever I can to try and make it go away when I remember why I came in here in the first place.
“Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning?—”
“Jesse Hayes, please report to chute two.”
She gives me a quick peck before she intertwines our fingers together. “We can talk later. Let’s go before you get in trouble.”
We walk hand in hand out of the media room, past all the workers and riders in the hallway, heading toward the chute. I can’t help it as I keep glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. This is the first time she’s been so openly affectionate with me, not only grabbing my hand in the first place but continuing to hold it without a care in the world if anyone sees. How can this gesture mean anything but us staying together and makingit work? There’s no way that this openness, this public showing, doesn’t mean something.
Unless she’s just trying to make the most of the time we do have.
God, Jesse, don’t go down this rabbit hole before your ride. Get it together.
The first rider is just climbing onto his bull when we reach the second chute, my bull for the night, Goliath, huffing loudly at my approach. Faith and I watch the big screen to see how Carson does—of course he pulled first ride for tonight—as I slip my hand into my glove. He lasts the full eight, but he isn’t as stable on the bull as he usually is and gets docked six points. As he exits the arena, he slams his hat down on the cement with a frustrated grunt. Faith and I exchange a look before I shrug, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before I start to climb up the rails.
