“I’m not scared,” I state, well aware of the hesitant tone in my voice. I’m a man that’s all about control in all aspects of my life. There’s no one who can do things better than I can. So putting my life in the hands of a horse that could throw me off the side of a mountain isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.
It’s not the horse I fear. It’s giving up control.
“We’re almost up to the last part, and then it’ll be smooth sailing, cowboy.” The word cowboy is said sarcastically, so sarcastic that she giggles to herself. I’m sure if she wasn’t right in front of me, I’d see a satisfied smirk on her face.
“I’ll give you a win for the art fair,” I yell, white-knuckling what Pippa told me is a “saddle horn” as the horse jumps over a log in its path. “But being in the middle of nowhere on a fucking horse is not making me fall in love with this town. In fact, it reminds me of all the things I don’t enjoy about small towns.”
Pippa and her midnight horse come to a stop at the beginning of a clearing, the ground underneath us finally flat once again.
“Give me ten more minutes, and you’ll see what I mean about the best view.”
My horse, whose name is Rebel, doesn’t give me ease about putting my life in his hands and leans down to munch on the grass below his hooves. I loosen the reins a fraction, giving him the space to have a snack. It allows my thighs a chance to rest after they just spent forever clutching the sides of him so I didn’t tumble down a mountain.
“You know, I’m second-guessing agreeing to your stupid little deal.”
“I told you I didn’t want to do it. I had to make you miserable if I was going to agree to it.”
All I do is grunt, pressing my heel into Rebel’s underbelly when Pippa guides her horse forward again. I’m definitely miserable for a multitude of reasons.
Giving up control.
Not working when I have a thousand things to do.
Wearing these stupid hand-me-down clothes that make me feel like I’m wearing a cheap-ass cowboy costume.
Watching Pippa’s strong thighs straddle the horse, knowing what she’s hiding underneath her jeans. The image of Pippa in nothing but that skimpy lingerie will forever be burned in my mind. I can’t get rid of it, no matter how hard I try. I’ve thought of countless different ways I could rip that lace from her body so every perfect bare inch of her skin would be on display. I’m not proud of imagining what her ass looked like in the lingerie. I’m sure it left little to the imagination, and I can’t deny how bad I wish I’d seen the view. There’s not a doubt in my mind that seeing the bare curve of her ass would be my undoing. I’d love to see that scrap of fabric settled between her ass cheeks as I put a perfect palm print on them.
My cock stiffens in my jeans. I hate it. It’s just another reminder that I’ve lost control. My body is betraying me by wanting her—but how could I not? She’s beautiful—there’s no way I could ever deny that—but she drives me insane. She’s everything I hate—uncontrollable chaos. Yet, I’m aching to have one little taste of her wild side. She’s so incredibly tempting, and she doesn’t even know it. At least she doesn’t know how tempting she is to me. I’m trying to hide it, but seeing her in lingerie, wondering what other man has laid eyes on a body that deserves to be etched into stone, was where all of my careful control snapped.
I didn’t care if she knew I was jealous.
But with more space between us, I can’t help but hate myself a little for wanting her the way I do—for being so tempted by her. By knowing that if she looks at me with lust instead of anger one more time, I might prove to the both of us that I don’t have to like her to worship every inch of her body.
“Hello!” Pippa yells, catching my attention. She’s turned around in the saddle, staring at me with expectant eyes.
“What?” I snap, hoping she didn’t catch me trying to adjust myself. Having a boner in a saddle is one of the worst things I’ve experienced. Every time the horse moves, even just by an inch, my straining cock hits the saddle horn. It’s safe to say I don’t see the appeal of horseback riding. This is uncomfortable as hell, and so far, the only view I can focus on is Pippa’s round ass in the saddle—something I have no right looking at.
Pippa’s sultry smile about does me in. I wonder if she has any idea how much she’s fucking with my head. “Are you ready to fall in love with Sutten?”