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Tim’s face darkens further. “You’re better off without the prick. I’m pretty sure the time for him to have that conversation with you was before he stuck his cock in someone else.”
“Hey, preaching to the choir, pal.” I sigh, shooting a smirk at him. Tim offers me a matching smirk, tipping his head back as the first snowflakes fall.
“We should head back.”
Is it just wishful thinking on my part that he has a regretful tone in his voice? Probably. He’s heir to a multi-billion-dollar freight company. They don’t fraternize with the staff.
Chapter Six
Angela
The moment I dread comes after we make it into the stable, liberally covered with the snow that is now falling thick and fast. It is warm in the stables, and Buttercup halts as Tim’s horse does. He quickly dismounts, handing the reins to the groom, who leads him away. Tim turns with a smile, approaching me. I’m tense again. I can’t help it. The last time I did this, it ended with a short, sharp fall and a massive bruise to my ribs. It’s not exactly something I want to relive.
Stopping beside me, Tim smiles, his hand coming to rest against my shin. I suck in a breath, my eyes focusing on him and not how far down the floor is. Like it did before we started our ride, Tim’s hand slides up my leg, over my knee, and rests on my thigh, his fingers stroking firmly. I focus on the feel of his fingers and the heat pooling between my thighs. Not smart, but anything is better than thinking about falling off.
A groom appears again with that awful stool, my nemesis. To my relief, Tim waves him away. Thankfully, they disappear quickly. His eyes burn into mine, and I swallow as his fingers suddenly grip my thigh tightly.
“I won’t let you fall, Angie,” he whispers, and, against every rational thought, I relax. Holy shit. I trust Tim. Super not smart. I’ve always been smart, but right now, looking into his liquid eyes, I’m not feeling smart.
Nodding, I take a deep breath as Tim moves his hand off my thigh. With one hand, he takes my reins and flips them over Buttercup’s head, holding them in front of her face. His other hand gestures to the raised bit on the front of the saddle.
“Hold tight to the pommel,” he tells me. I can do that. I grip it with both hands. “Now,” his hand returns to rest on my thigh, stroking it gently, calming me, “take your weight on this leg and lift your other leg over the horse, exactly the opposite to when you mounted.”
“I can’t.” My voice is small, and his fingers stroke my thigh again.
“You can. I’m right here. If you fall, I’ll catch you.”
He sounds completely sincere, and again, I trust him. Taking a deep breath, I shift my weight to my left foot and tentatively swing my leg over. Tim’s hand catches my knee, guiding me down to the ground.
As I take my weight on my foot, blessedly on solid ground, his body presses against the length of my back, and his lips brush the outer shell of my ear when he speaks.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes, his hands sliding up my legs and sides. “Now lift your other leg down to the ground.”
I can do that. Holding my breath, I move my foot from the stirrup and gently place it on the ground. Only then do I remove my stiff fingers from the pommel thing.
“See, nothing to it.” Tim’s hands still span my waist, his lips brushing my ear, his voice low and soft, like he’s soothing a skittish animal. “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”
I swallow roughly at the feeling of a hardness that could only be an enormous erection pressed against my ass. I nod erratically, my breathing still shallow.
“Well done,” he murmurs into my ear, his hands sliding up my sides until they brush the outsides of my breasts and my breathing catches.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I gasp back, and it’s Tim’s turn to have his breathing catch.
I turn slowly, not moving away from him, and when I’m facing him, his head is tilted forward until it’s only inches from mine. It isdefinitelyhis erection pressed against my stomach, and his honey-colored eyes have darkened to a rich caramel.
Tim’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and his honey and oak scent swirls around me as his warm breath caresses my cheek. Tim’s eyes dip to my mouth, and the hungriest look I have ever seen flashes across his face for the briefest moment.Only for a second, and then it’s gone, and he steps away from me, carefully tucking his emotions behind a blank mask. But I saw them. They were right there, and I canfeelthem, drawing out a similar hunger in me, pooling low in my stomach.
Tim clears his throat, moving further away from me. “We should get back to the Manor before the snow deepens.”
I nod, my cheeks flaming as a groom appears out of freakingnowhereto take Buttercup’s reins. Oh, holy hell. Did they see that? They definitely saw that. The staff seeseverything. I’m so not used to being on this side of things.
Reluctantly, we step out of the warm, dry stables, moving across the snow-covered landscape, the gray stone Manor looming in front of us, the windows lit up like inviting beacons. As we bow our heads against the wind and the driving snow, Tim’s hand hovers near me as he flexes it and shoves it into his pocket.
Timothy
Angie disappears up the wood-paneled main staircase when we return to the house. As much as my toes feel decidedly frosty, I decide against a warm shower, since she’s probably doing the same thing.
Images of her, naked and soapy, assault my mind. It’s a sweet picture, which I have zero business imagining. I grind my teeth, clenching my fists in my pockets as I stride through the house, searching for the drawing room with its sideboard full of liquor.
