Page 17 of Tame Our Wild

His turquoise eyes narrow in challenge. “What was that?”

“See.” I motion to him. “I said, ‘Still you.’” I raise my voice a little more so he can hear me.

I know I’m being a brat right now, but my stress is firing off my tongue, and he just happens to be the target standing right in front of me.

“How has that mouth not gotten you into more trouble?”

I shrug. “Not sure. I only seem to use it with you.”

“So, are you saying that I need to be the one to do something about it, dust bunny?”

A bolt of something unfamiliar zips through me, the warmth flooding to my cheeks, chest, and another area between my legs that he should have no power to command. He must notice my response because his gaze falls to my mouth. He works the bull rope through his hands, and momentarily, I wish I could know the thoughts running through his head.

His veins and tendons ripple where his sleeves are rolled up, revealing large sunflowers and leaves cascading down both arms to his wrists. I can’t help but be hypnotized by those calloused, inked fingers that I’m sure have more talent than their ability to curl around a rope.

The letters are faint, but I can still make out the words “don’t stop” on his fingers. They may just be tattoos; however, I’m more curious about the stories behind them than I should be. If there is one.

I don’t realize I’m biting my bottom lip until he smirks.

The only reasonable explanation for reacting this way to Colson is that I haven’t been laid in a year since I broke up with Zach. We had been together since high school, and he always treated me like the fragile flower he thought I was. Sex with him wasn’t great, but he knew where a vagina was, so I couldn’t complain. He got the job done, but only with the help of my fingers.

An image of what Colson’s fingers might look like and feel like, replacing mine, has my core throbbing with need.

I’ve known for a long time that I need my sex life to be as thrilling as the rest of my life. Clearly, I’m not deterred by a little bit of pain.

The way Colson handles that rope makes me wonder what he’s like in bed. Those hard hands from years of bull riding are too rough to be soft.

Get your shit together. These are not the kind of thoughts you need to be distracted by right now.

I’m making a mental note to download a dating app to find a hookup, so I’ll stop looking at Colson this way. My traitorous body is hinting at me that it’s time to step away from my vibrator for once.

I pause the music and place my headphones back in the case. “I’m not in the headspace to take your jokes right now, Colson.”

The column of his throat moves as he swallows. He hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “I was on my way to the locker room to shower, and they told me to let you know that you’re almost up and need to head out there.”

I blow out a shaky breath. “Oh. Okay.” He turns to leave, but I stand up quickly. “Wait, you’re showering? You didn’t get a score?”

Colson is an incredible rider and walked away winning the buckle last season. He scored an eighty-nine yesterday evening—one of the highest scores of the night—so I figured he would score in round two and make it into the top twelve for the championship round later tonight.

“Nope. Pegasus kicked my ass. I was leaning back too much and had to work harder to keep control.”

The announcer’s muted voice from the arena drifts through the hallway, filling the silence between us since we’re the only ones in the room.

When I don’t say anything, he tilts his head, studying me. “That was your problem last night, you know.” He treads lightly. “You started to override the bull instead of meeting it jump for jump. The second you were off balance, you leaned back and then had to overwork yourself to try to catch up.”

Creases form between my brows, and I give him a surprised look. “Since when have you ever given me advice? Since the very beginning, you’ve always treated me like I was never built for this sport. Why are you trying to help me now?”

“Do I really have to answer that?” He shakes his head, and a lock of hair flops onto his forehead. “Last week, you curled into a ball on the ground and were almost trampled. Again.”

I wince, turning my head to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze. He’s right, I know he is, but hearing it from him out of all people has my shields rising. Cowering on the ground when a 2,000-pound beast is kicking its hind legs in the air and charging at anyone in the general vicinity is extremely reckless, but I blacked out from panic and was unaware of what I was doing in the moment.

“And yesterday—”

“Alright, I get it!” I snap. “I’m trying.” Tears sting behind my eyes as I hold his gaze, but I blink them away. “I am trying my hardest to get back out there and do what I know I am fully capable of. It’s only normal to react this way when you have been through something as traumatic as I have.” My muscles harden as I point a finger at him. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

The muscles in his jaw flex, and he sucks in a breath as if he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You have no idea how wrong you are about that.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.