Chapter Eleven

No amount of kettle corn, however delicious, could erase Sloane's gnawing worry when Dylan was introduced to the crowd.

"The bull is feisty today!" the announcer's voice carried on the loudspeaker, the noise seeming to bounce around the field and stands. "This is just a taste of the danger our athletes are in every time they face down the beast. Now it's time to unleash the real beast—three-time champion of the Stockyards in Fort Worth, Texas. Dylan Knoxdale, otherwise known as Knots around here! Everybody, put your hands together!"

Screams and whistles deafened her. Appetite gone, she replaced the tie on the bag of popcorn and set it aside. As soon as her hand was free, Shaw clasped it. A glance at his face showed brackets of tension around his lips.

She meshed her fingers with his, her gaze locked on the field where Dylan stood alone.

"He can't really do this for a living!" she whispered to herself, but Shaw heard.

"It shocks me every time too." He squeezed her hand lightly in a gesture of comfort, but her nerves weren't having any of that.

She nibbled her lip until the skin burned.

"Our very own Boot Knocker has made it to the Pbr National finals in Las Vegas four years in a row. He gives his all when he gets on the bulls, folks, and you're about to see it for yourselves!"

"Oh god." Her stomach dipped, taking the popcorn in a downward swirl.

Dylan, looking hot as hell in his hat and chaps, held an arm up high in the air. The crowd hooted for him as he strode off the now-muddy ground that had been churned up by hooves during the other events. All of which she'd enjoyed while trying to set aside her worries for Dylan.

Her stare riveted on him… her cowboy, the man she'd spent hours and hours giving and receiving pleasure with over the past few days. He reached the flimsy wooden gate holding back two-thousand pounds of muscled beast.

When he scaled the side and settled over the back of the bull, Sloane's heart slammed into her ribs hard and fast. She let out a whimper. "I can't look."

She twisted her face against Shaw's big chest. He cradled her against him and brushed a kiss across her temple.

"Then don't watch."

"But I have to!" She popped her head back up just in time for a countdown.

"Four…three…two…one!"

The bull blasted out of the gate. She had no memory of jolting to her feet until her knees wobbled, and Shaw anchored her against his rock-hard body. They looked on as Dylan was tossed side to side. He held on even though he began to lean precariously.

As the bull went into a spin, the announcer kept up the commentary about how lethal the particular bull Dylan rode today was.

She cried out. How many more seconds would he have to stay on? Surely a week had passed since he climbed onto that bull.

The huge animal whipped him left, then right. Dylan flew off, his body seeming to spin midair before he slammed into the ground.

"Oh my god!" She made a move to leap out of the stands.

Shaw stopped her. "Stay right here—I'll go!" He leaped the six feet or so straight from the top to the ground and took off at a dead run for the arena.

Dylan wasn't moving. What if he was really hurt? She'd been there that night Shaw was carried off the ice on a stretcher after being checked into the boards. She almost didn't survive it then—and she didn't think she could now.

She cared about Dylan. There was no way to tell a man she paid to be with her that she was falling for him, but here she sat, her mind glimmering with memory after memory of their short but life-changing time together.

Sometimes the universe didn't care how long people knew each other, and the longer Sloane sat there waiting for movement from her lover collapsed on the ground, the more convinced she became that Dylan cared for her too.

She clung to the back support of the bleachers, shaking. Shaw shoved several guys out of the way to reach Dylan's side and hit his knees in the dirt. Even from here, she could see the concern etched on Shaw's face as he stared down at Dylan.

Then he tossed his head back on a laugh.

The ice in her veins melted, rendering her knees boneless. She sat down hard on the bench, breaths coming in sharp rasps as she realized that Dylan must have said something that made Shaw laugh.

If she were capable of smiling, she just might—the jerk probably said something about losing their bet.

The silent crowd came alive as Dylan slowly peeled himself off the ground with Shaw's help. Once Dylan gained his feet, he held up a hand in tribute and walked stiffly back behind the fence.

Sloane wasn't sticking around waiting. She hurtled down the bleachers and was immediately engulfed in the crowd of people who'd got out of their seats for a better look at the injured rider thrown off a bull.

Stupid man. Why do I have to fall for men who take risks with their bodies?

Zigzagging in and out of the mob of people, she worked her way to the opposite end of the arena. Since Shaw was so tall, she made him out immediately.

"Shaw!"

He didn't hear her, so she tried again. "Shaw!"

She could climb the fence, but a huge tough guy sporting muscles like balloons and a black hat guarded the entrance, holding people back.

After a third try to get Shaw's attention, he didn't turn. She felt ready to scream in frustration when it hit her: Marigold could out-scream any person. Her shrill toddler cries had stopped Sloane cold on more than one occasion, and she'd joked with her parents that the child had a future as a horror movie actor with those lungs.

She clung to the fence and opened her mouth wide, channeling Marigold when she screamed her daddy's name for a fourth time.

He jerked and saw her. The concern etched on his face slammed through her.

She had to get to him. Had to get to Dylan. What was going on?

Ducking under the fence rail, she barely made it out the other side before she slammed into a wall of muscled security.

"Fans gotta stay on the other side of the fence, lady."

"Let her in." Shaw's command stopped the man from guiding her back through the rails. When Shaw gripped her by the arms and helped her to her feet, she wavered in his grasp.

"Is he okay?"

"Yes," he grated out.

"Your face. I didn't know until you laughed." She wasn't making any sense, but he only nodded.

His gaze was sharp as he studied her expression. "I can see it written all over your face, Sloane."

She tried to see through the people who were surrounding Dylan, obviously checking him over. Did they have a doctor on staff? How long did it take for an ambulance to reach the remote ranch?

Shaw cupped her face, directing her attention to him.

His gaze pierced her with a significance that had dread churning in her stomach. She knew what he was about to say.

That didn't make it any easier to hear.

"You care for Dylan."

* * * * *

If Dylan's back was a little stiff when he climbed on that bull, it was screaming now, but nothing a little hot water couldn't help.

Sloane hovered on the side of the hot tub, a crease between her long brows every time she looked at him.

"I don't know if I hate seeing you worried about me or love the attention." He stepped into the hot tub and sank to the seat with a moan of pleasure.

Sloane and Shaw traded a look before the two of them joined him in the bubbly depths.

He slid to the side, locating the jet and aiming it at the most painful spot on his back.

Sloane and Shaw were quiet, watching him.

"If you're waiting to collect on that bet I lost, I need a few minutes to soak."

Shaw grunted. Sloane's lips twisted in a smile she tried to conceal.

Then a giggle bubbled from her. "That stupid bet."

Cocking a brow at her, he eyed Shaw. "She thinks it's stupid now."

His friend and lover relaxed against the back of the hot tub, stretching his arm along it so that Sloane could lean into him.

Dylan must have missed something. Even though Sloane and Shaw had been intimate and shared some good moments, the pair always had tension between them like a thick cord that neither could break through to fully reach the other. But no longer.

"What happened?" His voice carried a grit that wasn't the result of the pain from hitting the ground on his hip and back that already gave him trouble.

Sloane adjusted the thin string holding her bikini in place over her breasts. "What happened was you tried to kill yourself tonight on the back of a bull!"

He shrugged. The movement shot a pain down his flank into his lower back right where it ached the most. "You know I ride bulls. I explained it to you."

"I didn't fully realize the danger until you got on one's back!"

He moved across the hot tub closer to her. "Love, I'm so sorry I scared you."

When she slipped even closer to him, he stopped caring about his bumps and bruises and gathered her close.

Breathing in her sweet scent, he let his eyes shutter. So this was what people talked about in movies—never wanting to let go.

He opened his eyes on the revelation and found Shaw staring at him. His hard jaw flexed but the warmth in his gaze held no trace of anger or threat.

"You asked what happened while you were losing our bet," Shaw said.

Sloane lifted her head from Dylan's chest.

"We talked. Cleared the air a little."

She nodded, her hair brushing Dylan's pec. "I don't know what's going to happen when my time's up here, but I'll go knowing that Shaw and I are really okay."

The man looked like he wanted to say more. His mouth worked as though he chewed the inside of his cheek to stop himself from speaking the words.

A long moment of silence ticked by.

Dylan moved a little, and pain sliced up his spine. He couldn't stop the wince before Sloane spotted it.

"Sloane, honey. I'm fine. Really. In fact, let me show you just how fine I am." Reaching around her neck, he tugged the string of her bikini, untying it. Her breasts tumbled out of the yellow cloth.

Her jaw dropped.

"Oops." He grinned.

Without bothering to cover herself, she looked between him and Shaw. "If I remember correctly, Shaw and I get to call the shots tonight, so you're cheating."

He lifted his jaw in a gesture of agreement. "Tell me what you want."

Shaw's eyes hooded over the depths that gleamed with desire. "Stand up."

He stood, his body streaming water. He hadn't bothered with swim trunks, and his stiff cock bobbed against his abs.

Shaw's brows shot up in interest. Slowly, Dylan curled his fist around his thick cock and gave it a pump.

"I owe you both. I'm at your command."

Sloane ran her tongue over her lips and then gulped. "Maybe I should check you out again. Make sure you're all right…"

When he rolled the head of his cock through his fingers, he moaned. "I feel more than all right."

* * * * *

Dark need lashed at Shaw's core as he watched Dylan slowly jacking his cock. The man's body was cut with muscle. His washboard abs tapered down to a thick erection. The strain of his thighs as he delivered each stroke of pleasure to himself had Shaw even more on edge.

He'd admitted to Sloane that he and Dylan were lovers. She had taken the news without batting a long eyelash. So what was holding him back from taking Dylan the way he wanted?

Craved?

He jerked to his feet. Water splashed over the sides of the hot tub, but his only focus was on the dual groans coming from Sloane and Dylan.

"Baby?" The word rumbled from him.

Her lips popped open. "Yes?"

"Call the shots."

Her soft intake of breath was almost lost in the burble of the hot tub.

"Umm."

He gripped his cock at the base while holding her stare for endless thundering heartbeats. "Tell us what you want."

"I want to see…how you'd get each other off. If I wasn't here."

Dylan's eyes glittered with arousal. He had to still be feeling the effects of that fall, but he wasn't showing it. When he stroked his cock from root to tip, his body rolled with the movement as if he didn't have any bruises.

Shaw squeezed his own cock, bringing a bead of precum to the tip.

Dylan jacked faster.

The excitement in the move brought a rumble of desire to Shaw's lips too, and he matched Dylan's rhythm while keeping his stare steady on Sloane's beautiful face.

He still fucking loved her. Would never stop. The thought of her leaving made his jaw clench, holding back a roar. But how could he keep her in his life? And wasn't it too late for him to be Marigold's father?

Maybe not. She wasn't old enough to remember a time when he was absent from her life.

Dammit, he wanted to know more about her. That photo sent by Sloane's mother had damn near brought him to his knees on that riverbank.

Sloane made a little mewling sound. Her cheeks grew pinker, and a flush that probably wasn't from the heat of the water climbed her throat.

Her gaze darted from him to Dylan and back again. Suddenly, she pushed out of the water too and perched on the edge, her fingers thrust in her bikini bottoms. Her breasts jiggled with the juicy plunges of her fingers.

"Come for me," she rasped. "Come…on me!"

Shaw's gaze jerked to Dylan.

In a flurry, she shoved her bottoms off, twisted and thrust her ass toward them.

"Fucking glorious," he gritted, his orgasm suddenly right there.

"I can't hold out long." Dylan angled his body so his cock hovered inches from her ass.

Shaw moved closer too and grasped his lover's cock just like he had in the shower. Sloane twisted to look over her shoulder and gasped in excitement. Her hand moved faster between her legs, and Dylan wrapped his fingers around Shaw's length too, stroking him for the very first time.

His back bowed. Electric fire zipped along his veins. When release rushed up, there was no holding back. He threw back his head and bellowed out his orgasm.

Dylan's cock stiffened even more in his hand. Knowing his lover was so close, he dropped his head just in time to watch white spurts of cum shoot across Sloane's perfect round ass.

Dylan made sure to aim Shaw at the same spot, and both of them finished in streamers of cum painted on her beautiful body.

Letting out a wild cry, she began to jerk with her own bliss. Still pumping Dylan's shaft, Shaw cupped her face and kissed her, grinding his still-spurting cock against her body, rubbing it through Dylan's cum.

"We marked you," he growled between kisses.

She whimpered.

Dylan brought his mouth down on Sloane's. "You're ours—for as long as you want us."

She whirled around and threw her arms around both of them. "I don't want to ever let you go."

Shaw's mind filled with the happy moments they all spent with Piers, Ash and Sylvee. That trio was making it work—in fact, they were thriving.

Why couldn't they have the same thing?

Several long minutes later, the three of them climbed out of the hot tub.

"I don't think you were in the water long enough to help your hips and back." Sloane swiped her abandoned bottoms off the deck.

He trailed a finger over her collarbone. "I had all the heat I needed, love."

Her throaty laugh punched into Shaw's heart. Dylan's tender smile for her wasn't lost on him either.

He cared so much for them both.

Was it possible to have what the former Boot Knockers did—a life together with plenty of love to share?

He walked over to where he'd cast off his clothes before stepping into the hot tub. When he picked up his phone, the screen flashed with a missed call.

As he raised the device to listen to the voicemail, his blood surged.

For two years he'd been talking to a big college in Alaska with hopes to sign on as coach. The team had some wins but lately hadn't come together to reach their goals.

They wanted to discuss a position.

His dream was within reach.

It was either the worst time—or the best.

"Everything all right, man?" Dylan's question filtered through the blood drumming in his ears.

Still stunned, he could only nod and slap a mask over what had to be a pained expression.

He didn't want to trade in either of his dreams, but the price of one seemed to be letting go of the other.