Her Bull Rider's Baby Read online

  He began to drum his fingers against his thigh, a soft thrum-thrum-thrum that made her think too much about the skin and muscle under all that denim. He released a sharp exhale and turned to her again. “I have to fly out again tomorrow.”

  “What? Already?” She let her jaw hang. How could she prove this life was the best for their child if he wasn’t even here to see it?

  He sliced a look at her. “There’s an event in Nevada. And after that, Colorado. I told you I’d need to keep competing. I can’t sit here and wait on you.”

  Wait on her? Her lip curled. “I never asked you to wait on me. And you might have told me you were leaving before now. When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Oh, that was it. His too casual tone was a spur to her anger. “Well, thanks for telling me.” The sarcasm in her voice was acidic enough to etch glass.

  That pissed him off, his eyes darkening to a furious bronze. But when he spoke, his tone was even. “Remember, you have to eat well. And rest. And don’t do anything dangerous.”

  Somehow the fact that he was putting on this caring-dad act to help win their bargain made her fury flare. “How could I forget? That’s all you ever harp on me about.” The cooking, eating breakfast, training the bulls—him being right about some of it made her want to punch something. “Don’t try to tie me down. I’ll buck harder than any bull you’ve ever ridden.”

  “Huh.” A short noise of disbelief, a spark of intrigue lighting his eyes. “As if any man could tie you down.”

  “No. No man could.” Being tied, being restrained, held no allure for her. She wanted a man who met her as an equal in everything.

  For one wild weekend in Vegas, that man had been Adriano.

  “A man might want to try.” He canted toward her, his focus sharpening on her.

  “He could try,” she taunted. “But he’d never succeed.”

  That was all it took. He was over her, pushing her back into the couch, his mouth on hers. No hesitation, no fumbling, just the way she liked it. A man who wanted as much as she did.

  His lips were soft, but the intent behind them was hard.

  She parted her lips, sent her tongue into his mouth, her need meeting his measure for measure. He gave a ragged sigh and his hand slipped around the back of her neck, gripped tightly. She pulled him back with her onto the couch, spreading her legs to make space for him between them.

  His hips were heavy and hot settling into her pelvis, his cock gratifyingly hard. She rubbed against him, her legs sliding up to clasp his thighs, her clit throbbing at the contact.

  He wanted her. Badly. Her smile was sharply triumphant. So much for his vow to keep his hands off her.

  If she could make him break his vow on this, she could break him on the rest of it. If she simply kept her wits here…

  She slid her hands down his back, gripped his ass, and pulled him hard against her, urging him on. I want you too. Take me. Let me take you. Wanting wasn’t losing her head. Holding him like this meant she was in control. Right?

  His mouth dragged down her neck, and he raked his teeth along the sensitive skin there. She dug her fingers into his ass, the taut muscles flexing beneath her grip.

  God, they still had their clothes on, and she was already on fire. Too long without him—she’d been too long without him. Focus. But the thought was lost in the hot pulses shaking her.

  “Liliana, Liliana,” he murmured into her neck, his teeth scraping again as his mouth formed the n of her name. Sharp teeth, sweet song of her name, his hand still firm on her neck—she was lost, utterly lost, just like she’d been before.

  His hand slipped between them, found the skin of her stomach where her shirt had ridden up. She whimpered helplessly as he stroked there, so close yet so far from where she wanted him to be.

  “Adriano,” she ground out. “You have to touch me. You have to.”

  Another rough kiss on her neck, a promise that he was getting there. She lifted her hips, demanded that it be now and hard.

  His hand slipped lower, skimmed past her navel, teased above the waist of her jeans, made her throb all the way to her toes. A tug at her waistband let her know that finally, finally he was getting to where he was supposed to be. She rubbed against him in encouragement, and moaned deep when his hard cock caught her clit just right. The second his fingers touched her she was going to come, she just knew it. The waves were already rising, her thighs trembling beneath his.

  The waistband of her jeans cut into her back as he fumbled with the buttons, a sharp, rough pressure in contrast to the heavy, luxuriant weight of his hips at her front.

  “What the—?” He lifted his head and frowned at her, holding up the hair tie that had held her jeans closed.

  “Oh. My jeans… they wouldn’t close this morning.” Although her stomach looked about the same, when she’d gone to zip up her jeans, the two sides wouldn’t meet. A reminder that while things might look the same, they most certainly weren’t beneath the surface.

  She scrambled up, put distance between him and her, then cupped her forehead. Idiot. She just had to make things difficult for herself, didn’t she?

  Her control of the situation had been an illusion from the first moment his lips had touched hers.

  His gaze was tight on her, his lungs working hard, his jaw grim. The bulge in his Wranglers told her he was as physically aroused as she.

  But just because he had a hard-on, it didn’t mean he didn’t have darker motives here. He meant to convince her to give up her baby.

  She’d forgotten that in the molten rush between them. She couldn’t forget herself with him—they had a bargain. One she had to win.

  “We’re not supposed to be doing this.” Stark. But not as cold as she might have liked. She took a shaky breath, summoned her temper, her restraint—anything to cool the fire still licking at her veins.

  “I didn’t hear you saying no.” Colder than she’d managed.

  Fucker. “Really? I didn’t hear you saying it either.” Damn me for this and you damn yourself as well.

  He blinked, his mouth turning down. She’d hit with that one. “You make me want you too much.”

  Nope. Try again. She rose from the couch. “Please. Don’t pull that tired crap with me. You’re a grown man. I know you know how to say no.” She drew the no out to prove exactly how easy it was to say.

  “Fine.” He rose, his cock straining against his fly. “No.”

  “I said it first.”

  He actually laughed. A short one that he immediately smothered—but definitely a laugh. “Now that we’ve worked out that we can both say no, I’ll wish you good night. I have an early flight.”

  There was a question for him in her throat, but it wouldn’t take shape. Probably because she wasn’t entirely sure what to ask: Will you call? When will you be back? Promise me you’ll be safe? All foolish, relationship-type questions. They didn’t have a relationship—they had a bargain.

  “Good night,” was all she said, forcing it past that unformed question stuck in her throat.

  Nothing more was said as they made their way to their separate beds.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  How are you feeling? Did you eat breakfast? How much coffee did you drink? How did you sleep? You should be recording all this for your doctor’s visit. Remember, it’s all to keep the baby as safe as we can.

  To: Adriano Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  I’m great, thanks for asking! How was your flight on this trip you told me about at the very last minute?

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  There’s no need for sarcasm. What did you eat today? How much water did you drink? It’s very important that you drink enough water.

  (And it doesn’t matter how my flight was—your health is more important. But it was fine, thank you. I arrived in Reno safely.)

  To: Adriano
Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  I’m attaching the spreadsheet with all my meals and water intake for your approval. I’ve also begun to keep track of the frequency and color of my urine since I’m sure you’ll ask about that next.

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  The spreadsheet was empty. Perhaps you attached the wrong one? And the book doesn’t say anything about tracking your urine. Do you really think you should?

  To: Adriano Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  Look, I’m eating just fine. I’ve got protein, fruit, veggies, and some starch at every meal. And only one cup of coffee a day, although the headaches have been a bitch. Maybe you can trust me to feed myself? I’ve been doing it for a while now.

  (Did you get to Colorado safely?)

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  You’re feeding the baby now as well—don’t forget that. What kind of prenatal vitamin are you taking? Does it have the DHEA? The book says that’s very important for the baby’s brain.

  (Yes, got to Denver just fine. First go round is tonight.)

  To: Adriano Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  I got whatever generic kind the drugstore had. And yes, it’s got the extra DHEA, although that pill makes me gag every time. See how I sacrifice for the baby already?

  (I heard you got hurt. Is everything okay?)

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  I just read on BabyBumper.com that green tea might be bad for the baby. Please make certain you’re not drinking it.

  (I only sprained my elbow. I can still ride, although it hurts like a son of a bitch. But don’t worry, I’m fine.)

  To: Adriano Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  Okay, this has gone way too far. You need to stop reading that website. And the book too. You think everything and anything could harm the baby. If it were up to you, I’d be in an isolation ward “for the baby’s health.”

  Just stop.

  (And I’m glad you’re okay.)

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  There’s no need for hysterics.

  To: Adriano Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  You did NOT just call me hysterical.

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  You must stay calm for the baby. She feels your stress, and too much cortisol could damage her brain.

  To: Adriano Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  (Never Sent)

  I will show you stress and hysteria when I see you next. I will shove stress and hysteria so far up your butt you choke on them. Of all the pigheaded, messed-up things to say to a pregnant woman…

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  You haven’t sent me a food log this week. And you should also keep track of when you feel nauseated or when you throw up. More nausea is better for the baby.

  To: Adriano Silva

  From: Liliana Merrill

  No.

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  I think your previous message was cut off. Look, if you haven’t been keeping track of your food, you can just start now. We’ll forget about all the other days you haven’t kept a record and start fresh.

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  Liliana? Did you get my message?

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  Liliana?

  To: Liliana Merrill

  From: Adriano Silva

  Lil?

  Adriano checked his e-mail on his phone for the fifth time that morning. Still nothing from Liliana.

  He wandered through the bleachers under the covered arena, watched as the cowboys set up for that night’s event. He had nothing better to do than to wait. Wait for the event tonight and wait for Lil to finally respond to him.

  Actually, there was something he could do. He sat on one of the benches, the metal cold in the morning air, and brought up his mother’s number, the ringing scratchy as it sounded across the miles.

  “Adriano!”

  He smiled. “How did you know it was me?”

  “The phone says it’s you, silly boy.” The familiarity of her voice made his heart ache. “I love that about these mobile phones. I know who’s calling before I even pick up. I know to be excited for you, to be resigned for Dara since she talks so much, and stern with Roberto since he’ll be asking for money.”

  Adriano laughed. He was glad to hear her so happy about the phone he’d gotten her, safe and comfortable in the house he’d bought her. She wasn’t too fond of its location in Campo Grande—the city was too large, too loud for her liking—but once he returned, he’d move her to the ranch he would buy. That would please her.

  “I’m glad to talk to you too.” He rubbed at his thigh, bending his head to hold in the sound of her a little better. “How are you, Mamãe?”

  “Better, now that I’ve spoken to you. I was feeling tired, but that’s all gone, to hear you laugh. You hardly laugh at all now. I miss it.”

  “I laugh.” But he knew she was right. “Have you been taking your medicine?”

  “How could I forget when you’re always reminding me?” But she liked it, her adult children fussing over her.

  If only he could be there to properly care for her. But the money he sent made it possible for the medical care. And someday the transplant would come through. He had to believe that. That he wouldn’t lose her before he could return home.

  “Tell me, how is Liliana?” she asked.

  “Good.” At least he thought she was. He e-mailed her several times a day, asking how she was, showing how caring, how concerned he could be—and it wasn’t an act. But over the weeks, her answers had grown shorter and shorter, as if his concern irritated her. And then the e-mail he’d sent last night, still unanswered…

  He could call her, but he wanted to hear her voice, wanted it very badly, so he hadn’t, telling himself it would only be distracting. After their last encounter, he’d realized she remained too tempting—close contact with her obliterated his focus.

  But if she didn’t reply soon, he’d have to call to make certain she was all right.

  He didn’t want to discuss any of this with his mother. “Did you get the picture of the baby I sent?”

  “I’m looking at it right now. She’ll be so beautiful, my son. I can already tell.” Love swelled in his mother’s voice.

  Adriano slipped his hand into his shirt pocket and fished out the sonogram picture, the same one he’d sent to his mother, the same one he stared at every night before he fell asleep.

  “She’ll be the prettiest girl this world has ever seen.” He knew it was true without even having seen his daughter. Her skin would be lighter than his but darker than her mother’s, her mouth a soft pink bow, her hair dark and curling, and her eyes… There was no telling what color her eyes would be. One of his grandfathers had had green eyes, much like Liliana’s. There was no way to know until their daughter was here.

  Only five more months. An eternity. And too short. He had a long way to go to win this bargain with Lil, judging by the responses to his messages.

  Only one more day here in Colorado and then he could fly back to California. Three weeks until the next event; Oklahoma next time. He could patch things up with Lil, explain that the e-mails were for her own good, then move on to the next event, move forward with his plan to finish in the top ten this year.

  “She has the world’s most handsome father,” his mother was saying, “so of course she will be.”

  Adriano laughed again. “I bet you told Rodrigo and João that too.”

  “Well, they’re my sons as well. The three most handsome boys in the world and all three my sons.” She was laughing now herself.

  “We can’t all be
the most handsome,” he said. “There can be only one. You’ll have to pick.”

  She sighed gustily. “Well, if I must… It’s you. But don’t tell your brothers I said that.”

  “Of course not. Because you’ll tell them the same when you talk to them next.”

  The sound of his mother’s laughter warmed him from the inside out. His loneliness here, the long, stony days of training, training, training, and nothing but—it was all worth it to hear his mother so happy. And it would be even more worth it when his daughter came and he could provide her with the childhood he never had. Could show her the beauty of Mato Grosso do Sul and raise her with her loving grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins surrounding her.

  “I miss you,” his mother said, her words holding the lingering glow of her laughter but also tinged with wistfulness.

  “I miss you too. But you’ll come when the baby’s born, won’t you?”

  A terrible promise to extract from his mother, to force her to fly so far when she was ill. But if Lil had full custody… His mother had to be there if she could.

  “Of course I’ll come,” his mother said. “I’ll want to hold this new granddaughter of mine.”

  God, he wished he could be as certain as she was.

  There was a commotion on her end of the line, followed by high, childish voices shouting hello.

  “Ah, Elena and the children are here.” Elena was his other sister, bringing her children to visit their vovó. He could hear his mother’s attention turn from him. If he were there with her, he could greet his nieces and nephews as well, spend some time with them. Instead, he’d have to hang up and spend the rest of his day waiting for the bull ride at the end.