Page 98 of Holding Hope

My mouth watered at the thought of taking one of her taut nipples between my teeth and running my tongue across the pebbled surface. I pressed my thighs together as I imagined what sounds she would make when I sucked and bit her perky tits.

“Please, baby,” I begged again, kissing the soft skin just where her neck met her jaw. In the distance the fist alarm went off, signaling riders to make their ways toward the stadium.

“Don’t you have to go?” She breathed out as I kissed her again.

“Ssshh,” I laughed. “They can wait two more minutes, I can’t.”

Avalon sat back with a laugh and plucked my hat from my head. Setting it atop her own, she leaned back on her hand, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, you can’t wait, huh? Let me guess, you’ll just die if you don’t see them.” She laughed softly, thinking I was joking. She looked good in my hat, in my clothes, looking at me like that.

“You know what they say about that,” I said, nodding toward the cream-colored hat perched on her curls.

Her smile tugged downward on the left side—her signature crooked grin. “I know what they say. I’ve been doing my homework. And I also know if you’re not in that stadium in the next three minutes, you’ll be disqualified.”

She was right. I needed to go. But I didn’t want to leave her. Avalon tugged me closer by my tie and kissed me again—confident, sure, claiming.

“Good luck, Cowgirl.”

Groaning, I forced myself to pull away, the sudden loss of her warmth making me shiver. “I don’t want to go.”

“Yes, you do,” she said, giving me a gentle shove. “You need to.” She stood on the table, looking down at me with a wicked smirk. “Besides, more of this will be waiting for you when you come back.”

Before I could react, she lifted the bottom of her camisole, flashing the black-and-white pinstriped bra that had been tormenting me all afternoon.

“Avalon!” I hissed, laughing as I backed away toward the stables.

“It’s for good luck!” she called after me.

I shook my head, smiling like an idiot. This girl was going to drive me insane. And I was going to let her.

“You almost missed last call,” Colton hissed as I slid back into place beside him. My heart hammered against my ribs, pulse racing from the sprint. I needed a minute to regulate my breathing, but I didn’t have one.

“Sorry,” I breathed, nudging Apollo forward as we cantered into the stadium. “I lost track of time.”

A lie—I had been painfully aware of the time. I just hadn’t wanted to leave Avalon.

Colton snorted, shooting me a look over his shoulder. “Where’s your hat? Christ, Clarke, pull yourself together.”

My hat? With one hand on the reins, I patted my head with the other. Nothing.

Right. I’d left it with Avalon—or rather, on Avalon—and had been too distracted to take it back.

“Sorry,” I muttered. Colton groaned but didn’t push it further, slipping into his show face.

I’d tried to mimic that expression as a kid—brows low, jaw set, mouth a firm line. When I’d asked him why he did it, he told me it was so no one could see him crack if he ever came in last.

Losing, to him, was a flaw. An imperfection. And showing emotion about it was even worse.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him cry over anything. Maybe he had when he was younger, but Dad had drilled that mindset into him so early that I barely remembered a version of Colton who wasn’t steel-spined.

I had my own show face—softer, more approachable. I needed it for fans, for interviews, for the image I’d built. The other side of me— the one who cried easily, who lost her temper without warning—that Clarke King stayed hidden. Safer that way. For everyone.

Chet Thatcher led the procession into the arena, his auburn mare cantering proudly beneath him. Behind him came Lionel Harris, then two more cowboys, then Colton—and finally me.

Always last. Every year. My scores were better than most of the men, but a few judges still thought I didn’t belong. It didn’t bother me much, but it pissed Colton off enough that he insisted on riding in the back with me.

Texas’ best bull rider bringing up the rear with his little sister— it always caused a stir. Secretly, I was grateful for the company, even if he did lecture me half the time.