My maiden name.
He registers it too, because when I look back up at him, his gaze remains fixed on the coaster.
“I thought it was Valentine?”
“It’s not. The divorce papers are stashed in my car. On my way out here, I picked them up. I’m a private person. I don’t need my messy divorce to be dinner conversation.”
He nods, searching my face. Then the tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he stares down at the coaster. “So this is a . . . sex contract?”
“Essentially, yes.” I feel like an idiot, but I also feel like, for the first time in a long time, I don’t care. Every step I took away from that house today was a domino falling. One after the other. Now, there’s only one left, and I’m about to knock it right into Theo Silva’s lap.
“Well, this is a first.” Theo’s fingers dust over where I signed my name and I imagine them on my body. In my body.
“I think . . .” I put a hand on my throat, like that will force me to keep using my words when all I can think about right now is him touching me and the heavy rush of pressure between my legs. “It keeps things very clear. For us.”
He leans close, his demeanor shifting right before my eyes. Hot, damp breath dances along the shell of my ear as his deep voice rumbles against my skin. “Contractual clarity has never made me harder.”
My body flares to life, even though I know he’s teasing me. I force myself to swallow and nod as I shift my eyes to meet his.
“I don’t know if a sentence on a coaster will hold up in a court of law.”
“One night,” I reply. “That’s all. I’m not equipped for anything else. I’m too fucked-up. Taking you to court would involve seeing you again, and I don’t plan to do that.”
His throat works once more.
“And we never tell anyone. We shake hands and walk away, like mature adults with a contract.”
“Winter . . .” He doesn’t love that part.
I push the coaster at him, feeling more laid bare than I have in, well, possibly ever. My voice shakes. “Sign it or I’m going to bed. My ego is too fragile for this right now.”
His gaze softens on me, the warmth in those chocolate depths heating my chilly exterior. I watch the veins in his hand bulge as he picks up the pen. The tendons in his forearm ripple as he writes.
One night only. We never tell anyone. But I’ll probably beg you for another shot, eventually.
- Theo Silva
Even his handwriting is beautiful.
He looks smug when he slides the coaster back across the table at me. I lift the piece of cardboard and eye it, like I really am reading over a contract. Another shot—as if. But I’ll let him get the last word in.
I hold the coaster out and he takes it, his warm fingers wrapping over mine. He lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a firm kiss to the top of it, sending a shiver down my spine.
He smirks, and I want to stomp on his foot. I hate how obvious this is. How unnaturally it’s come about. How knowing he is.
But I also want it so damn badly.
We hold up one last shot of tequila, and honestly, I need the liquid courage. Our glasses clink as we cheers.
His eyes lock on mine with a level of intensity that screams at me to be careful. And then he says, “I’m going to ruin you tonight.”
We toss the liquor back, not dropping each other’s gaze. I slam my glass down harder than necessary. It’s loud, like the shotgun at a race signaling it’s go time.
He cants his head at me. One more silent assurance.
I nod.
He nods.
And without another word, he links his fingers through mine and leads me out of the bar area and onto the elevator.
When the door slides shut, that last tether of control between us snaps. It’s an audible ping in the small, private space.
He tugs me into his chest, fingers instantly tangling in my loose hair.
All I can hear is the heavy bass of my heart pumping blood through my veins.
All I can see are his rosy cheeks, and full lips.
All I can feel is the press of his rock-hard length against my stomach.
He looks me straight in the eye and grabs the back of my skull roughly with one hand while the other pulls at my bottom lip. “I can’t wait to see how fucking pretty you look when you come with my name on your lips.”
6
Theo
Rhett: Did you and Winter get back safe? Summer said Winter never responded to her.
Theo: Yeah. She was tired and grumpy. I think she went to bed.
Rhett: Yeah. Okay. Gym at 11?
Theo: See you there, old man.
“Theo. You’re a sack of shit this morning.”
I flop back on the mat and decide I’ll just die here in a pool of my sweat. “Summer, you look sweet, but you’re kind of an asshole.”
From the mat beside me, Rhett turns and kicks my sneaker. “Talk to her like that again. I dare you.”
“Rhett, twenty-five burpees for assaulting a client.” His fiancée smiles smugly at him from where she sits on a bench. Or as I’ve dubbed it in my head, the Torture Throne.
Rhett scoffs like she’s joking, but she inclines her head at him and crosses her arms over her Hamilton Athletics hoodie.
“You’re evil. What about Theo?”
“What about him?” Summer’s voice is all sugary and amused.
“Dude, shut up. Just let me die in peace.” Slinging a damp arm over my face, I get a strong whiff of alcohol. I am literally sweating tequila.
“He was clearly out all night,” Summer says. “Probably making babies all over North America at this rate.”
“Please. I always wrap it up.” The truth is, since hitting the road this past fall, there has been no one in my bed at all. I let everyone believe what they want, but I’m changing.
Rhett quirks a brow. “You’re not denying being out with someone last night, though, are you?”
I groan in annoyance, but Summer leans forward, eyes sparkling with interest. “Who was it?”
“I had a long romantic evening with my right hand.” I don’t kiss and tell. Especially where Winter is concerned. I’ll be taking this one to the grave. Unless she comes back for more.
“Did you light a candle?” Rhett laughs at his own joke.
“Why are you still lying there, Eaton?” Summer snipes at him. “I said give me twenty-five or I’ll make you join a Zumba class.”
I snort. “Fuck. I would pay a lot of money to see that happen.”
Rhett playfully kicks my foot again as he pushes to stand.
“Who was it really, Theo?” Summer isn’t letting this go.
I sit up and sling my elbows over my bent knees, looking her in the eyes. “It wasn’t anyone. And if it was, I would never walk around here talking about it. You’ll have to get your small-town gossip elsewhere.”
“Everything comes out in a town this size. You need to be careful if you plan to spend more time here, Theo.” She takes on a more serious tone with me now.
We never tell anyone. I wrote it out myself, and I’d never betray Winter’s trust. Too many people in her life have and no matter what we are or if I never see her again—I won’t be another person who lets her down or lies to her.
I shrug and hold her gaze because I’m not saying shit. “No one.”
Rhett is jumping beside me, huffing and panting. But Summer? Summer is just staring at me. It’s almost like she knows. But how could she? I don’t think a single person would ever guess that Winter and I would end up together.
I’m a bull rider and she’s a doctor.
I’m fire and she’s ice.
She wants to forget about me, and right now I can’t stop thinking about her. Her softer side. The way she opened up with me. The way she whimpered my name when—
“Twenty-five burpees, Silva.” Summer’s lips stretch into an evil smile.
“Are you kidding me?”
Rhett is too breathless to even mock me, but when I glance at him, I can see his bearded cheeks stretched up into a smile.
“No. Get your ass up.”
“I thought I was done?” I whine but do as she says, because I promised myself I’d do my dad proud this season. He may have died riding a bull, but he did it with a couple of championships under his belt.
He mentored Rhett, and Rhett has two.
I want one. I want a fraction of his greatness. I’d be happy to have even a sliver of their success so I can be part of that legacy too.
I want to be more than the World Bull Riding Federation wild child and a fantastic lay.
So, I start my burpees.
Summer smiles at me and shakes her head. “Wow. You really must not want anyone to know about last night.”
“He’s just . . . miffed that he already . . . failed at his goal,” Rhett puffs out from beside me as I start my first jump up in the air. My muscles riot against me as I urge my body back into action after what has already been a two-hour workout.
“What was your goal, Theo?”
I ignore them both.
Sure, I stepped out on the goal I shared with Rhett during one of our talks, but I’m not about to explain to them that this was different somehow. This wasn’t just another—