Tears were burning her eyes, but she smiled at that and wrapped her arms around his middle, snuggled closer. “That’s why you like Skittles?”
“He sends me a bag every time I buck. I get a care package of candy every week, along with a bunch of other random shit he finds at stores that remind him of me.”
“How long did it take you to be able to change again?”
“About two days. The second that drug started wearing off, my bull came rampaging out of me. Dad had to camp out beside a corral for a couple weeks since I changed forty-fifty times a day. I don’t remember much about the detox. Just that it hurt.”
“Have you talked to your mom since?”
Dead shook his head. “Didn’t ever get the urge to. My dad was good enough for me. I didn’t yearn for my mom or feel like I was missing out. My bull, though? He never stopped thinking about her. Never stopped hating her. Now he takes it out on every human he can reach.” Dead smiled brightly. “And that’s the story about how fucked up I am.”
“No, that’s the story of a survivor. Look what you’re doing?” she said, resting her legs over his. “You used something awful that happened to you to make a career. Look where you got to.”
“A camper and a herd of misfits?”
She snorted. “No, silly. Number three bull shifter in the world. In the world, Dead. I don’t even follow rodeo, and I know how big a deal that is. I saw the line of people waiting to meet you tonight. The signs that fans held up in the stands. The attention on your social media, the interviews, the time on television because everyone is curious about you. You.” She poked him in the chest. “And not for the bad parts. You’re funny and charismatic and caring in a surprising way. I think you did pretty dang good for yourself.”
“You’re a natural cheerleader, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yep. Screw your mom and screw that poison. You lived. Not only did you live, but you got yourself from that corpse of a kid to this.” She waved her hand at him. “With all the muscles.”
He chuckled. “You like the muscles.”
“I don’t hate the muscles.”
“You want to touch the muscles?”
She snickered and hugged his taut waist a little tighter. “I don’t mind touching the muscles.”
He held her closer. “This is kind of nice.”
“Snuggling?” she asked.
“Spending a night with a stranger and feeling so comfortable.”
“Because there’s no risk! No hearts get involved, and tomorrow I’ll just be some girl you talked to for a day at a rodeo one time. Some girl who worked your table and asked a lot of questions.”
“Mmm,” he rumbled. “Yeah, just some girl.” But his voice sounded off. “And I’ll be just a boy.”
“No, a moo cow shifter,” she joked.
“Bull shifter,” he growled, tickling her ribs suddenly.
Raven squealed and kicked her legs, tried to tickle him back but he’d grabbed her wrists.
She froze, and he froze, and there they sat, faces inches away from each other, her arms held, completely vulnerable as he searched her eyes. His had lightened to a vibrant green.
She was panting, wanting, terrified and excited and happy and hopeful all at once.
He leaned forward suddenly and pressed his lips to hers. One second, and it was done. He eased back in a rush and released her wrists from his iron grasp. One second was all it took for her lips to throb, her cheeks to heat, and her body to move closer on its own accord.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but he stayed just inches away from her.
“No, you’re not,” she whispered back. And before he could say anything, she leaned forward and gently settled her lips on his. His mouth softened, and he pulled her legs more securely onto his lap. Then with his other hand, he cupped her neck.
She’d never felt more safe, more secure, than in this moment.
His lips plucked at hers, moved with hers and, God, he tasted good. His beard tickled her, but she got used to it fast. Touching it with her fingertips helped, and when she did, he moaned softly into her mouth and leaned into her more. Masculine, dominant man. His kiss
