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Dragging my eyes away from her legs, I focus on my coffee and toast while she manages a few sips of her coffee. The same as the last time we were here before a riding lesson. Yeah, she’s still scared. Drawing breakfast out any longer would be cruel, since she’s clearly terrified. I drain my coffee and stand, gesturing to the door. Angie sighs like she’s being condemned to the gallows and follows, abandoning her almost full coffee cup.
The grooms saddle up Jasper and Buttercup while we wait, and Angie fidgets with the hem of her jacket.
“Relax, remember,” I tell her, and Angie glares at me.
“My bruise still hasn’t healed. Sorry that I’m a little nervous.”
“Let me see.” I gesture to her torso as she blinks in surprise.
“You want to see my bruise?”
I nod carefully. I’m probably going to regret this, but what the hell. After studying me for a beat, Angie sighs and lifts her jacket and shirt. I swallow, my eyes fixed on the expanse of lily-white skin exposed to me until her shirt is up over her ribs. I can see the briefest flash of white lace – her bra – and my mouth is suddenly parched.
My cock calms down when my eyes skate over her bruise, and I wince. It’s mottled yellow and brown, faded now. But it would have been nasty a few days ago when it first showed up. I reach out, my hand having a mind of its own. My fingers brush against the smooth, discolored skin, and Angie’s breath hitches.
“Does it still hurt?” I murmur. She shakes her head vigorously.
“It looks worse than it is.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as my cock hardens at her breathy tone. There is a sound behind us, and my hand drops away from her skin as Angie lets her clothes fall to cover her again. Behind us, the groom moves out into the main stable area, leading Jasper and Buttercup.
The groom melts away as I help Angie mount, as I did the other day. My hands linger over hers, and I hold her waist for a moment longer than necessary, but we get her mounted. She sits up on Buttercup, tense and scared. Riding has always come naturally to me, ever since Uncle Bill placed me on my first pony at the age of four. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be stuck in Angie’s head, scared of all this.
Placing my hand on her jodhpurs near her ankle, I slowly slide it up her leg, over her knee, until it’s resting on her thigh. When my gaze moves up to meet Angie’s, her chocolate brown eyes have darkened to almost tar black, and only through immense discipline am I not panting.
“Relax,” I breathe, my gaze burning into hers, and she swallows roughly.
“Okay.” But she remains tense underneath my hand.
Holding her eye, I stroke my fingers against her thigh, willing her to loosen up. As my stroking fingers move in circular patterns, Angie’s muscles uncoil beneath my hand. My eyes never leave hers, and when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, I only just bite back a groan, though my tongue mimics the action, and Angie’s breath flutters. I’m in pain with how hard my cock is, but I don’t stop, and I don’t look away until she’s completely relaxed.
“I’m just going to mount Jasper.”
Angie nods as I squeeze her thigh and remove my hand. I move toward my horse, and my cock leaps against my zipper as I hear her regretful sigh. A regretful sigh because I’ve stopped touching her. Yeah, I’m so in over my head here. Why does sex have to be off the table?
Angela
Timothy strides over to his haughty horse and mounts, flashing me a grin as he moves out of the stables, with my more placid mare following his thoroughbred. We fall into step beside Timothy and his mount, and again, by the time we head down the lane, I’m more relaxed about riding. At least, I will be until it’s time to dismount.
The clouds hang heavy in the sky, and I wonder if it will snow when Timothy speaks.
“I’m sorry to hear about your parents,” he says, sounding hella awkward. I flash him a smile and a shrug.
“Don’t even worry about it. My father was never in the picture, and my mother wasn’t cut out for raising a kid.”
His eyes slide uneasily over me, carefully studying my face.
“Still, I’m sorry.”
“What are your parents like?” I ask, wanting the conversation to be on anything except my shitty upbringing. Timothy purses his lips like he’s trying to decide what to say.
“My dad is very driven,” he says at last. I can detect a hint of regret in his tone. I wonder if they’re close. After all, he’s taking over one of Bill’s businesses, not his father’s. “He wasn’t around a lot when I was younger, off chasing his fortune.”
“What does he do?”
Timothy glances at me, surprise in his eyes. As though he expected me to know. Yeah, I know what Bill’s brothers do, but this is about making polite conversation, right? And helping me forget that even though I’m terrified about sitting up high on a horse, my panties are still damp from all thattouchingback in the stables. Trust me to go crushing on one of the five guys in this world who are completely off limits to me.
“He’s a lawyer. A partner at a firm in Chicago.”
