“Hold on tight with your legs,” he called. “And move your upper body against the movement.”
“Huh?” She pitched forward again, but this time, she fought to lean back. A few more turns and her body would find the motion.
But helping her wouldn’t hurt . . .
Noah climbed up onto the padding. “Would you like a lesson?”
“You’re going to climb on while this thing is moving?” she said without looking at him. She was focused on her grip and the bull.
He laughed. “It’s not going that fast, sweetheart.” The pet name slipped out and he saw her eyes widen. But that could have been due to the bull’s motion. “And I’ve had a lot of practice on this thing,” he added.
“Show me,” she demanded. There was a breathless quality to her usually defiant tone.
He waited until the side of the bull faced him. Then, he reached for the handle, covering her hand with his, and scrambled on. She fell forward and he probably looked like an ass while he worked to get his leg around the moving machine, but a few seconds later he was settled. His hips pressed up against her backside as the bull’s head reared into the air.
“Lean back,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist. His other hand maintained a hold on the handle beside her white-knuckled grip. “And relax. I’ve got you. The worst that can happen is you
fall on your ass.”
“I’d rather keep my ass and my pride off the ground,” she murmured, letting her back rest against his chest.
Holding her close, he guided their bodies, pitching them toward the bull’s head when the rear end lowered. He leaned back when it kicked up as if lifting its nonexistent hind legs in the air.
“You would be one helluva of a sight at a rodeo,” he murmured.
“Because I didn’t think to wear jeans?” she teased, sounding a lot more relaxed now that they’d found a rhythm.
“I like your dress, Josie.” His gaze fixed on the back of her neck. Her hair had fallen forward, over her shoulders, during the first few moves. And now her neck was exposed.
So damn tempting.
“I thought the boots were a good fit,” she said, talking as if she needed to fill the silence. “For my debut as a cowgirl.”
“You look like one right now.”
She rocked back against him. By now, she had to be aware of his dick, hard and begging for action beneath his fly. What the hell was he waiting for? He had the woman he’d dreamed about, knowing he shouldn’t touch her, in his arms.
One more night. You have one more chance before everything changes.
“I’m going to kiss you.” Not wanting to let go of her or the strap, he lowered his lips to the nape of her neck. He touched her skin, one brief, soft tease. “Here.”
“On the bull,” she said as she leaned into him and wiggled her hips.
No way in hell she missed how much I want her.
The bull’s head dropped and he pressed his mouth against her neck, kissing, licking, exploring . . .
She turned her head and offered her lips, her green eyes wide. One look confirmed that she wanted this. Probably not as much as he did, but he’d bet she hadn’t been daydreaming about him in a swimsuit.
“Josie,” he murmured. His fingers wrapped around her slim waist, holding on tight. His mouth touched hers. Eight seconds into the kiss that threatened to break his restraint—he wanted her, now, on the back of a damn bull—her lips parted and she kissed him back, taking their somewhat innocent lip-lock straight into hot and heavy.
She broke away, but his attention, every cell in his body, remained focused on her.
“Have you ever ridden the bull naked?” she asked.
“No.” But her low voice made the sound of cowhide against bare butt seem like a brilliant idea.
“Hmm,” she murmured, glancing down. “Place your hand on my thigh.”