Free Cowboy Jackpot: St. Patrick's Day by Randi Alexander Page A

water but crossed
his arms over his chest.
    “I learned to visualize myself calmly and
confidently taking the test, knowing the answer to every question,
writing out intelligent, correct answers to essay questions.”
    He looked like he might be soaking some of it
in. “And?”
    “I practiced it a hundred times or more,
really got into it, and the next test I took…” She snapped her
fingers. “It was like someone had screwed my lightbulb back
in.”
    He smiled. “You’re too bright as it is,
cutie.” He reached out and slid her back into his arms. “You never
fail to impress me.”
    She had to blink away the sweet ache behind
her eyes, and breathed deeply to relieve the lovely thumping in her
heart. Her man was impressed by her. She’d never heard anything as
wonderful as that.
    “Okay.” He rubbed his big hand in a circle on
her belly. “Teach me.”
    She paused a second. Then joy bubbled inside
and she had to hold in a giggle. “Okay, close your eyes.”
    Ten minutes later, he was mentally walking
himself through a perfect ride, still on the horse when the buzzer
went off, and winning the big, shiny buckle.
    “I’m looking forward to taking pictures of
you winning the event tomorrow.”
    He chuckled and turned the faucet on to
dribble hot water. “Stormie, I’m gonna go with this voodoo theory
of yours ‘cause nothing else has worked. Now, it’s my turn.” He
slid his hands under her breasts, cupping them and massaging. “I
want to guide you in a meditation.”
    She wiggled and his cock bumped against her
back. “Okay. Guide me, cowboy.”
    “Mmm. Imagine you’re in a bathtub with your
husband.” His fingers found her nipple and plucked as his other
hand slid low below the water and opened her slit, sliding a finger
along her throbbing lips.
    Her breath came fast. “I can almost feel
it.”
    His chuckle shook her whole body, causing
waves on the water.
    She reached behind her and grabbed his shaft.
“Now imagine your wife has your slippery, wet cock in her
hand.”
    “I can almost feel it, too.” His voice
choked, low and sexy.
    ****
    Twenty minutes later, both of them satisfied
and dried off, Jayden carried his bride from the bathroom. Her
sleepy head lolled onto his shoulder and his heart whumped a couple
times. He couldn’t get enough of this woman.
    Pulling back the bedcovers, he tucked her in.
“Where are your keys? I’ll get your suitcase out of your car.”
    She pointed, not opening her eyes. “Purse.
Red car, third level of the ramp, left side after you get off the
elevator.”
    He kissed her temple and stood, looking down
on perfection. Damn, he was a goner.
    She opened her eyes. “Wait.” Sitting up, she
picked up a little bag from the nightstand. She dug a minute and
handed something to him. “This’ll be your touchstone.”
    He took the clear, one-inch square cube.
“Dice? What’s a single dice? Die?” Each side of it had green
divots, one to six, and a four-leaf clover was in the middle.
“Touchstone?”
    She held the sheet over her breasts. “When
you touch this, you’ll remember to visualize the perfect ride.”
    He nodded, held it tight in his fist, and
fought back a rogue burst of emotion. “Thanks.” He kissed her
forehead. “You’re…sweet.” It was a little underkill, but it was all
he could wrangle at that moment. He was tired, physically and
emotionally, and just needed to hold his woman and let the world go
on without them for a while
    She smiled and slid back under the
covers.
    Jayden dressed, put the die in the front
pocket of his jeans, grabbed her keys, and headed to the elevators.
He took out his phone. The text had been from Rance. Call me
whatever time. Bad news about the rodeo? He dialed as he got in
the elevator. “Rance?”
    “Jay, where are you?” It sounded like Rance
was in the casino.
    “I’m going to the parking ramp, then to our
room to get my suitcase.”
    “Uh yeah, dawg. Havin’ some marital
relations, yeah?”
    Rance was