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“You’re right, Jo. It’s like I’m walking into… new possibilities.”
After a few more steps, he drops his front knees to the ground and says, “Hop on. I figured you might not want everyone to see you on my back.”
Now that he’s closer to the ground, I easily climb on. When he hitches his weight to rise, I fling my arms around his human waist to steady myself. There’s something so arousing about hugging him like this, my hardened nipples plastered to his back, that I softly gasp.
He reaches around, snugs his arm around my waist from behind, and tugs me even closer. Maybe he did it to be careful, so I won’t slip off, but this position is not subtle. It’s sexy.
He picks his way through the trees, which are mostly evergreen with a few deciduous trees, the leaves shimmering in the wind.
“You were locked up most of your life?” I ask, then immediately regret it. Why would he want to discuss those things? I shouldn’t have brought it up.
“Yep. First in cages, then in Area 51 where we never saw the sun. Then we came here and needed to stay in the fenced area near the reject barracks. I can’t tell you how amazing it feels to be free to roam in this vast expanse.”
I nuzzle his naked back, enjoying his warm, masculine scent more than the piney air. He has no idea how vast the real world is beyond this humongous parcel, and I have no intention of rubbing it in his face.
“Are things still awkward on your end, Chance, because I don’t want them to be. I’m glad we shared that kiss.”
His back stiffens and he keeps his head pointed straight ahead.
When he doesn’t respond, I lean closer, press my cheek against the warm skin of his back, and then press my lips between his shoulder blades.
He stills, one of his huge hooves stomping onto the soft ground with a clop.
After dropping another and another and another kiss onto his soft, burnished skin, I skim my hardened nipples against his back and ask, “And you, Chance? Are you glad we shared a—”
He whips his head around to look at me, his blue eyes darker than I’ve seen them—hotter.
Somehow, he scoops me up and around, holding me as though I weigh nothing more than a piece of kindling, and positioning me so I’m straddling his front, my open thighs around his human waist.
Is this what it felt like for him when I was arousing him from behind? So intimate it’s almost scary? Because I’m pressed against him without a whisper of air between us. His massive arms, roped with muscles, are holding me tight. One palm between my shoulder blades, the other cupped on my ass cheek.
“Glad we shared a kiss, Jo? Glad isn’t the right word at all. Glad is what you feel when the people in charge let you have an extra helping of food or give you a blanket that doesn’t scratch.”
His mouth crashes onto mine. There is no asking, no questing or probing. No. This male is taking what he wants.
My only response is to kiss him back as if he’s a king and this is his tribute.
“Chance.” I cup his cheek with one hand and slide my fingers through his long, silver hair with the other. This kiss is more passionate than our last as we give and take, exploring each other, not holding back.
He grunts with pleasure when I almost fully retreat, then flick the tip of my tongue against his lips. In response, he nips first my bottom and then my top lip in sexual retribution.
“I came from our last kiss,” he admits as he pulls away, his warm breath ghosting across the tender flesh of my cheek. “You’re wrecking me.”
He nips me again, then gives me a smoldering look that would make him a movie star—if centaurs could star in Hollywood films. Before I can recover, he’s lifted and manhandled me onto his back again. I’m panting and clutching my neck as if it was strung with pearls.
“Hang on!” he calls.
The moment I wrap my arms around his waist, he takes off at a trot.
Chapter Fourteen
Chance
I was bred and raised for battle. As far back as I can remember, I was pitted against the other males and forced to fight. I can take apart and reassemble twenty types of guns, from pistols to assault weapons. I can use a rocket launcher as well as every type of blade. If hard-pressed, I can set explosive charges, although I never excelled at that.
The memories of what I’ve been forced to do haunt my daydreams and my nightmares, but I live with them and never complain.
Why, then, does what’s happening with Jo seem more difficult than my deadliest fights?
