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"Answer me, you lying asshole," Brooks demanded and then he made the mistake of putting his hands on me again. I spun around and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back at the same time that I slammed him against the side of the stall. I sensed the foal behind me rushing to its mother, but at the moment, my focus was on Brooks.
"The only liar here is you," I bit out. I still managed to keep my voice down because I’d learned that being louder didn't necessarily get your message across. I pressed my body against Brooks's, ignoring the way my groin snugly notched against the curve of his ass, and settled my mouth near his ear. "Touch me again, and that taste of what I gave you out in the driveway will seem like a fucking appetizer."
"Go to hell," Brooks responded.
I'd been about to let him go right before he opened his mouth, but his words had me twisting his arm just a bit more to get my point across. When the hell had he gotten so mouthy? He'd always been such a quiet, shy, nervous boy that I'd had this weird need to shield him, especially when his father had laid into him because of some mistake he’d made, or because of some perceived slight.
But admittedly, my body was kind of liking this side of Brooks too, figuratively and literally.
"I've already been there," I breathed into his ear. "Because of you and your fucking family."
"You were where you were supposed to be," Brooks returned. He was panting, but he wasn't struggling against me. I found myself inhaling his scent and it was all I could do not to nuzzle the back of his neck. I imagined what it would be like to take him like this, like a stallion mounting its mate from behind. I could picture him with his hands pressed flat against the wall. I'd hold his wrists there to make sure he couldn’t move. I could practically taste his firm flesh as I bit down on his shoulder while I drove into his welcoming body. The moans he'd make as I made him take every inch of me…
In those few seconds of fantasizing about Brooks, I felt something shift between us and suddenly the angry man who'd been raging at me only moments earlier shakily said, "Let me go." It was definitely a demand, but the force behind it just wasn't there. I released his arm and stepped back. Brooks stayed where he was for a moment, as if trying to catch his breath. I almost asked him if I'd hurt him, because that hadn’t been my intention.
But I caught myself just in time. I turned my attention back to Millie and her baby. The foal was now cowering on the other side of his mother and that caused much of my anger to return.
"Get out," I said quietly.
He didn't, of course; he was a Cunningham, after all. Cunninghams didn't answer to anyone. And not surprisingly, this particular Cunningham didn't seem to give a shit about what his tirade had done to the innocent foal.
I sensed his presence behind me but ignored him as I worked to regain the baby horse's trust. Millie didn't get between me and her baby as I moved around her head so I was closer to the other side of the stall. Millie knew me enough to unconditionally trust me, but the baby had yet to learn that. I settled into a crouch so I wouldn't seem as dangerous to the youngster. I began humming and kept my eyes on the colt. It took a good couple of minutes before the nervous baby took a step forward, then another. By the time the young animal was sniffing my hands, my legs felt sore from the position. But I would've held that pose for as long as I needed to so I could undo the damage Brooks and I had caused.
"Is it okay?" Brooks asked, his voice hushed. I ignored his question because he sure as shit hadn’t cared a minute ago. The colt took another step forward and I didn't let out my breath until he nuzzled my fingers once more.
"Xavier?"
This time he sounded much more like the young boy I'd always felt the need to keep close to me, even when he'd been driving me the craziest.
"He's fine," I said to Brooks.
"He?" Brooks asked. "It's a boy?"
I actually heard myself chuckling. He had full view of the colt at that point, yet he didn't know enough to check that part of the baby's anatomy to answer that question for himself. Not to mention I’d just told him so by referring to the foal as a he. Brooks had clearly been a genius as a child, especially when it came to things like numbers, but around horses he'd been completely hopeless. He’d done so many things wrong around the animals that I'd often feared for his safety. I’d taken to trying to teach him basic core skills just so he wouldn't end up beneath their dangerous hooves, but I wasn't sure how much he'd absorbed. Clearly the part about how to tell a horse’s gender wasn't a topic we'd ever covered. Though, admittedly, it seemed like a pretty obvious thing that a person should be able to tell. And that was what had me laughing.
