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“What do you say?” I press, turning back to Silvia. “Does that sound fun?”
“I’ve never ridden a horse before, but as long as you’re up for teaching me, I would love to.” The excited color brings a glow to her high cheekbones.
“Great.” My eyes dip involuntarily to Silvia’s full lips, and she sucks the lower one between her teeth to bite it self-consciously.
At first, I found her shyness almost irritating. It’s so unlike what I’m used to in women who can even be overly bold sometimes when trying to get my attention. When I first met Silvia, I could hardly believe it was authentic. And there’s nothing I hate worse than a woman trying to play coy.
But after watching her more closely yesterday, I’m sure it’s not an act. In fact, the longer I watched, the more intriguing I found her natural reserve. She seems oddly hard on herself, as though she’s trying to shoulder the weight of our relationship’s success. Even after everything I’ve done.
That kiss, though. I can see it now, as I meet her eyes once more. She’s thinking about it too.
The realization sends a jolt of arousal to my cock.
I want to kiss her again.
Forcing myself to look away, I settle back in my chair and lean my head against the jet’s plush headrest. I close my eyes, ignoring the scowl Mila’s still directing my way. I know I should have been nicer to her, let her down easy. I’ll make it up to her later.
For now, I need to stay focused on Silvia if I’m going to convince her to sleep with me in just a few short days.
* * *
“You put your foot in the stirrup here,” I instruct, keeping a grip on the horse’s reins as I turn the stirrup to make it easy for Silvia. “Keep a firm grip on the front of the saddle. And when you’re ready, gently swing your leg over.”
Silvia does as I say, her lip between her teeth, revealing her nerves as she mounts my sister’s old horse, Nezhnyy.
Silvia traded out her typical wardrobe of flowing floral dresses that hid her stunning figure. Now, she’s dressed like a proper equestrian in a pair of my sister’s breeches and my mother’s tall boots. She looks sexy as hell in the form-fitting pants and a natural leather jacket.
“Isn’t the saddle supposed to have something I can hold onto?” she asks as she settles onto the saddle. Her hands indicate the empty air where a Western saddle’s horn might be.
“Not for English riding. Don’t worry, you’ll do just fine. Nezhnyy will take care of you,” I promise. “Here. You hold one rein in each hand. Like this.” I wrap her fingers around the left rein, showing her how to hold it.
She mirrors the grip with her other hand, fumbling it before getting it right.
“Good. Now make sure they’re even. Right. And when you’re steering, don’t think of what you’ve seen in the movies. Nezhnyy understands a direct rein. That means if you want her to turn left, you pull back gently on the left rein. If you want her to go right, pull on the right.”
“What if I want her to stop?”
“Pull back equally on both reins. Slowly increase the pressure until she’s going as slow as you want her to.”
Silvia nods nervously.
“And remember, horses can sense fear. So take a deep breath. Stay calm. If you’re calm, she will be too.” Honestly, with Nezhnyy, it wouldn’t make a big difference. The big gray mare would stay calm even if a bear strolled out of the woods. But it’s still good information for Silvia to have.
When I’m sure Silvia’s ready to be on her own, I stride swiftly over to Korolevskiy, my liver chestnut gelding, and swing lightly into the saddle. After growing up riding in Upstate New York, sitting in a saddle feels like home to me.
I steer Korolevskiy close to Silvia. “Ready?” I ask.
She nods, and I give my horse a light squeeze. It doesn’t take much for him to leap forward, ready for action, and I laugh at his exuberance. Poor boy must need to get out more. I’ll need to speak with the stable hands. Make sure Korolevskiy is getting enough exercise.
Nezhnyy eases into a quiet amble, following my horse without question. Silvia releases a surprised giggle and grabs the mare’s mane until she gets used to the swaying stride. Her nerves visibly wash from her body as Silvia acclimates to the motion and sits taller. A broad smile stretches across her face.
“Having fun?” I ask playfully.
“This might be the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” she says, her eyes widening with sincerity as she meets my gaze.
I chuckle.
“How long have you been riding?” she asks as we head toward the tree line and the forest surrounding our property.
