Beauty and the Bull Rider (Hotel Rodeo #3)(36)

“Is that what she said?”

“The nurse?” He jerked his head toward the desk. “Yeah. She implied none too subtly they’re gonna kick us out at closing time.”

“All right, Zac.” Delaney dropped the magazine and stood with a smirk. “It’s a dirty job, but I s’pose somebody’s gotta do it.”

“C’mon, wiseass.” He steered her to the exam room. “We’re booked for room number three. Unfortunately they only rent by the quarter hour.” He kept the tone light even as his gut tightened. He sure as hell didn’t need this kind of pressure right now. He’d never once failed to get it up before, but trepidation was creeping in, f*cking with his mojo. Shit. He shoulda had a drink or two. He’d insisted that he didn’t have performance issues. Was he about to make a liar of himself?

Delaney preceded him into the room. She turned to face him when he closed the door, eyeing him nervously and twisting a lock of her blond hair. “So what now?” she asked, looking around the room. This one was just like the other had been. Small and sterile.

“If you strip down and put your feet in the stirrups we could play doctor,” he joked to break the ice. “I always wanted to see how those things worked.”

“Very funny, Zac.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“All of a sudden there’s a world of difference between imagining something like this and actually doing it. This just feels so . . . awkward.”

“I guess we could start by getting more comfortable,” he suggested. He set the specimen container on a nearby tray and then lifted Delaney onto the table. He stepped in close to her, nudging her knees apart. “Lean back a little,” he said. “Try to relax.”

She rested back on her elbows. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I’m fine,” Zac lied. “Comfortable?”

“Not really.” She grimaced. “I hate these rooms. They always remind me of unpleasant things. It’s too bright in here. I hate fluorescent lights. Could you maybe turn them off?”

Zac blew out a breath. “All right.” He took two steps to the wall switch, flicked it off, and cast them into total darkness. He took a step back toward Delaney and rammed his knee into something solid . . . and painful. He swore under his breath. “Damn it. Now I can’t even see you.” He felt for the wall and found the switch again. The lights flickered and sputtered and finally came back on. “Could you just shut your eyes?” he asked.

“How is that gonna help you?” she asked.

“If you relax, I’ll relax,” he said.

He leaned in to cup her head. Taking his cue, she upturned her face, offering her lips. She shut her eyes. He did the same. He moved in for the kiss. Their lips brushed just as someone in the next room flushed a toilet.

Zac recoiled with an exhaled curse. Couldn’t they at least have soundproofed these rooms? He glanced at the clock. The minutes were ticking down. So much for foreplay. It was time to get down to business. “Could we swap positions?” he suggested.

“You want the table?” she asked.

“Yeah. I want you on top of me.” He wished he could have said, “on his face,” but they didn’t have time for that. A bump-and-grind lap dance would have to do.

Delaney stood. Zac sat and then helped her up to straddle him, but the table was too narrow to accommodate her knees and her feet were too far off the floor to get any purchase. So much for the bump-and-grind plan. “This place sucks,” he muttered.

“You’re overthinking it, Zac,” Delaney said, climbing off his lap and moving between his legs. “Let’s just keep it simple.” She rested her hands lightly on his knees. Her gaze sought his. “How ’bout if I just kiss you?”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for that,” he said.

She licked her lips and slid her hands up his thighs. “That’s not exactly the kind of kiss I meant.”

Holy shit. He sucked in a breath on the instant surge of heat to his groin. He sure as hell hadn’t seen that coming. He glanced down at his dick. Nothing wrong down there. That was for damn sure. He was already hard as a post. All he’d needed was the right stimulus, but he feared too much of a good thing could be equally fatal. Just the thought of Delaney’s mouth on his dick made his balls contract. He shut his eyes as her fingers worked his zipper. He wasn’t worried about shooting a load anymore, just afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold it back long enough even to unscrew the damned lid.



Delaney was filled with guilt from the moment they walked into the clinic. Until now, she’d never given a second thought as to how awkward and invasive all this would feel to Zac, but he’d taken it all with surprising good humor. In truth, he’d bent over backwards to accommodate her desires—postponing his trip, driving twice to the clinic when it was over two hours away. Now, the pressure of time only poured insult on injury. She was amazed that he hadn’t complained about any of it, but bore it all with his cowboy stoicism.

He’d done so much for her. It was past time she reciprocated, not that she minded it a lick—or minded licking it. She reached inside and took him in hand, closing her fingers slowly around his hard, hot, exquisitely smooth shaft. She took a few seconds to revel in the pulsing sensation before she began stroking. She glanced up to find his brows drawn in concentration. He stole a look at her through slit lids as she worked his flesh. “Harder,” he urged and brought his hand on top of hers. There was something incredibly erotic about their joined hands pumping his flesh. She leaned in to him, pressing an openmouthed kiss to the exposed part of his chest.