Her eyes suddenly lift, and our gazes meet. Calling her strange earlier was a mistake. She is ethereal. Inviting. And her blue eyes captivate my fucking soul.
Kieran suddenly pulls Goldie up, and our heated connection breaks. “Goldie, why don’t you go with Marcus to feed the horses? Adrian and I will start on dinner.”
Goldie nods. “Pause the movie, though, please.” She skips toward me, taking my hand. “Shall we?”
It’s impossible to resist her, so I simply nod, keeping her small hand tucked into my own. We walk to the stables in silence. I cannot tell if it is amiable, but it doesn’t feel unpleasant.
“So, how was your afternoon when you… did whatever you were doing?” she asks, gazing up at me.
She is so small, so breakable, and yet even the smallest attention she gives me has my knees wobbling. When I don’t respond, Goldie starts to pull her hand from mine, but I tug it back possessively.
“You’re strange,” she muses.
Her word choice elicits a startled laugh from my lips, and I instantly walk faster in an attempt to pretend it didn’t happen. Goldie jogs beside me, her little legs keeping up with my pace.
“I thought the same about you, before.” I smirk down at her, and her eyes dilate.
“Before what?” Goldie’s hand squeezes mine.
We arrive at the stable doors, giving me a few extra minutes to come up with an answer. When Goldie pulls away from me again, I let her go. She runs to the horses, talking to them softly, offering sweet words of praise. They fall under her spell, just as my brothers have done. Just as I am doing.
Before.
Before, she was a stranger disrupting our home, our peaceful way of life. Before, she was just a human complication that needed to be removed. And now, not even a full two days later, she is something else, something more. It isn’t just her scent that enthralls me. Her very nature draws me in like a honeybee to a flower. But would she stay with us? Would she choose all of us?
Even now, if she chose Adrian or Kieran separately, the other would be crushed. I follow her into the stables, filling up the horses’ bins with feed. She hums to herself, offering each of them fresh carrots.
“Do you have a favorite horse?” she asks, skipping around me. Goldie is dressed in a purple shift with silk straps and a ruffled edge that hits just above her knees. The way the fabric hugs her body continues to draw my eyes to her dancing form.
“My stallion is probably my favorite, but I am fond of each of our horses,” I muse, leaning against one of the stalls to watch her.
She pauses in front of me, her hands on her hips. “Well, I don’t. Have a favorite, that is. Not everything is about having favorites.”
We observe each other for several moments, and she plants her feet, a look of honest determination on her face.
Perhaps I am wrong. My fears of her making a choice, that’s all they are, my own fears. Shoving away from the stable, I stalk closer to her.
“You love them all equally, then? Choose them all?” I whisper, maintaining eye contact and brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear.
She leans into my touch. “Yes. My heart is big enough to love them all the same.”
A dam breaks inside me, and I cup her soft cheeksbetween my hands. My thumb brushes across her plump lip with a mind of its own. Her tongue dips out slowly, grazing the digit when she licks her lips. Electricity shoots into my veins, and I need to taste her.
“Goldie.” I murmur her name like a prayer and lean down to press my forehead to hers. “Can I kiss you?”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Yes, Marcus. I’ve only been waiting all day for you to ask.”
“Smart mouth,” I growl before crushing my lips to hers. Her body melts into mine as if it’s meant to be there. A sweet moan erupts from her, and I deepen the kiss. My tongue dominates hers, savoring the taste of sugared candies on her lips. My hand slips into her hair, drawing her in further. Goldie mewls in my arms when I use my other hand to smack her plump ass.
I pull apart just enough to speak. “You deserve to be bent over my knee for that sassy mouth of yours.”
“Promises, promises,” she teases.
The black bear within growls, and a sly smirk plays on my lips. “As you wish.”
Before she can respond with another sarcastic remark, I snatch her up and drag her toward one of the empty stalls. Using the rope hanging on the hook by the stall door, I push her arms above her head and secure them with the rope. Goldie’s face is pressed against the iron bars, wiggling from side to side on her tiptoes, and completely at my mercy.
“Marcus,” she whines. “What did I do to deserve being tied up?”
