Rodeo Riders by Vonna Harper Page A

hair needed to be combed and contained—something she’d love to do.
    “I need to ask you something.”
    She looked up at him.
    “Do you think I chickened out?” he asked.
    A chill ran through her. “What?”
    “Because I didn’t get back on a bull.”
    “You—you had a broken neck. How could you?”
    “I’m talking about later.”
    Much as she wanted to shrug off the question, she knew better. “Cougar, only a few men have ridden a bull—or tried to. That’s a hell of an accomplishment.”
    “A lot of people would call me crazy.”
    Was he aware that he was rubbing her arms? Although she wasn’t cold, a shiver shook her. If he kept up what he was doing, she’d be hard-pressed to carry on any conversation, let alone this vital one. “Bull riding is crazy, but it was something you wanted, or needed, to do. Has that changed? You no longer feel you have anything to prove?”
    His hands stilled. A moment later, he pushed her back but continued to hold her. His gaze ran down her, but she wasn’t sure he was looking at her body. How strange. All those years of being ships passing through each other’s lives, they’d never had a serious talk. Now it was all coming at once—along with a physical attraction more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced.
    “No.” He sighed the word. “I don’t feel I have something to prove.”
    Although she was glad he’d found his peace, a part of her wanted to remind him that, damn it, she had gotten back in the saddle after her accident and decided to make coming to grips with her head trip her priority, her only priority. Her life’s goal, even. If she was that committed, that insane, he should be too. Shouldn’t he?
    “You have problems with that, don’t you?” he asked.
    “Damn it, Cougar! I’m not going to tell you how to live your life.”
    “I didn’t ask you to.”
    Were they fighting? And if so, why? “Fine. Fine.” Pulling free, she looked around for her clothes. “It’s better if people don’t dictate to each other.” Spotting her jeans, she sat back down and started pulling them on. Too late she realized she’d forgotten about her underpants. “I, for one, have enough to do running my own life.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    Darn him for asking such a complex question! And damn him to hell for standing there without a stitch on and his cock long and dark and jutting. Reminding her of how it had felt inside her.
    “Today I’m going to catch up with some of my fellow competitors, compare horses and tell tall tales, that kind of thing.”
    “Have you talked to any of them about what’s going on inside you?”
    “What do you care?”
    “Don’t.”
    She’d stood up so she could attend to the zipper. Unfortunately, that brought her breasts—and the rest of her—too close to him. “Don’t what?” The moment she’d asked the question, she wished she could take it back.
    “Push me away. Jordan, I didn’t have anyone to talk to when I didn’t know whether I was ever going to walk again. I’m offering you that.”
    His gift included much more than his muscles, even his cock. When all the layers had been knocked aside, that’s what it came down to, didn’t it? He’d more than walked in her shoes. He’d taken the journey before she had, only his had been more dangerous, the outcome drawn out, his nightmares—he had to have had nightmares—surely more vivid.
    “I don’t know what to say.” Leaning forward, she ran her lips over his chest, in part to give herself time to blink back her tears. “I downplayed what I was going through with my family, and although my brother kept studying me, he didn’t ask. In other words, you aren’t the only one who kept things locked inside.”
    He was stroking her hair, soothing her, presenting her with his warmth, his life. Tears again burned her. “I don’t want you feeling sorry for me,” she said. “I don’t.”
    “I didn’t either when it was me on the receiving