I flail, thinking surely the horse is going to dislodge us both if he takes even a tiny step. Not wanting to fall, I loop my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.
"You've got to stop tossin' me around like it's nothin'," I protest.
"Never been on a horse?" he asks, ignoring me and drawing my attention from the ground under us and to his handsome face. Without the darkness to hide in, I see him--really see him. Just as I'm sure he sees all of me. Every unremarkable bit of me.
That strong jaw that I had admired the night I found him as my barstool neighbor, the only part of him that I ever got a good look at, is proud in form and sprinkled with the same dusting of facial hair that I remember burned my sensitive skin as it rubbed against it.
My belly churns as I study the man who had, until now, been a faceless stranger. There isn't a flaw to be found. Perfect nose, full lips, and eyes brighter than a lush summer field right after the storm clouds clear and sun shines bright on the rain-soaked grass.
And those mesmerizing eyes are studying me just as fiercely as I am him.
"Thank you," I finally say, grateful that my mind wisely didn't blurt out how perfect I find him. "You're correct, I've never ridden before." Silence continues as his eyes probe mine. "Horses scare me," I explain, nervously trying to fill the void his mute perusal of me is creating.
The quiet ticks around us. I'm entranced as much by it as I am with the man holding me. That is, until the horse takes a step to the side and I turn into a mess of arms and legs as I attack my savior while basically trying to climb inside his body. His chest moves in what I hope is laughter, and he adjusts his grip on me while allowing me to settle. I somehow manage to turn myself completely within his strong arms and wrap all of my limbs around him like some kind of deranged spider monkey. I realize my mistake the second his hands settle on my butt and the heat of his hold radiates through my thin shorts.
I swear, I stop breathing right then and there.
I lift my chest back from his, that rush of heat on my bottom making me feel fearless and the shyness that normally hinders my every move in life falling to the wayside as I look into his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I gasp. "I'd get off you, but I'm terrified to move."
His lips tip at the corners in the tiniest of fractions and his eyes get warm.
"Not complaining," he rumbles softer than a man his size should ever be able to speak.
"If you could just help me get down and then maybe point me in the direction of where we came from, I'll get out of your hair. Or . . . off of your body, I guess."
He shakes his head. "That's not gonna happen, darlin'," he answers, his tone leaving no room for me to disagree. Even if I wanted to, though, the expression on his face is enough to kill any complaint I might have voiced. I wasn't argumentative to begin with, but the second he stops talking and inches his face closer to mine, I'm held captive. "I like you lookin' at me like this a whole lot more than I like you doin' it with fear in your eyes. And I like this softness in your eyes a fuckin' helluva lot more than seein' you with tears, baby."
Oh. Wow.
"You want me to take you farther away from whoever put those tears on your beautiful face? Or do you want me to bring you back to your friend so she can do it? Either way, Caroline, I'm not leavin' your side until I know you're okay."
Call me weak. Call me the very thing the woman I was running from had accused me of being years ago. But don't call me a coward anymore, because right now I'd do anything in the world if it means I get to keep having this man look at me like I'm the most important thing to him. Doesn't make a lick of sense, seeing as we don't really know each other--apart from in the biblical sense and all--but that doesn't seem to matter. My heart feels like I'm finally safe.
"Please don't take me back there," I whisper.
His head moves in one strong, sure nod. He takes one hand off my bottom as the other shifts so one huge palm is now directly between my cheeks, fingers spread wide to support me. I gasp, unable to keep from wiggling, when two of his fingers brush against the most sensitive area under my shorts-covered center. He doesn't bring attention to how close he is to my entrance; instead he holds my gaze, his face softening even more when a puff of air escapes my lips.
"Are you gonna be okay if I let Dell move again?"
"Dell?" I frown.
"My horse."
"Right." I look around us but jolt when I realize just how far off the ground we really are. Especially now that I'm not just on a horse, but even higher after I just used Clayton's body like some weird human pole.
"I won't let you fall," Clayton promises, his voice low and calming.
It could easily happen though.
"No, it couldn't."
My eyes widen when I realize I said that out loud, thankful he didn't realize I wasn't talking about the horse in the least.
"You're safe with me."
I take a slow, deep breath. "Don't let go of me," I tell my dark cowboy.
"Not sure that's gonna be possible, sweetness," he oddly answers, then makes a clicking sound. He doesn't look away from my eyes, not when we start moving at a slow walk. Not when we start to trot a little faster. He holds me captive while I trust not only him, but also the animal carrying us. I should be terrified at what his words make me feel. I shouldn't allow myself to think they mean something that should be impossible, but with my body plastered against his and his breath mingling with mine, I find myself melting into this man who is as much of a stranger as he was two months ago.
Only now that stranger has a face and a connection to my life through my friendship with his family. That means today won't be the last time we see each other, even if those seven words don't mean what my heart thinks they do. This isn't the end of Clayton and me.
9
CLAYTON
"Body like a Back Road" by Sam Hunt
I let Dell lead the way, knowing he'll take us back to the ranch eventually. I say a silent prayer that he does what he normally does when I let him take control during our rides and wander the long way through my property--enjoying the freedom of his hooves--because I'm not ready to let the woman in my arms go. I've never felt this connected to someone. I felt it the first time I had her in my arms, ignored it, but I won't make that mistake again. I'm sick of living a shadow of a life because I let my fucked-up past cloud my way toward some sort of normal future. Even if nothing comes of this, I'm going to try.
"I'd convinced myself what I felt that night was just the whiskey," I admit. I smile when her cheeks heat, my words hitting the bull's-eye.
Who would've thought a woman blushing could be so erotic? But with a vision of just how far that blush will spread, all I can wonder now is if her small tits turn pink with a blush when she comes--something I never got to see that night because of the darkness she seemed to need.
"Might've been," she whispers so softly I have to strain to hear her, and then she lays her head against my shoulder, relaxing just a bit in my hold. She probably doesn't even realize she's doing it, but that move right there shows me that she trusts me to lead.
"You make me feel like I'm comin' alive, sweetheart. I've got no words to explain it better than that, but what I know is there ain't no way on this green earth that it's the whiskey that is doin' the work. Wasn't the cause then and damn sure ain't now."
"Heat of the moment, maybe. An adrenaline rush," she weakly argues without conviction.
"I'm old enough to be able to control my cock in the heat of the moment. Even if I was feelin' some adrenaline, it wouldn't make me feel like I was out of control of my own body. You feel my heart poundin' in my chest now? You explain that as heat of the moment when the only time I feel calm is on the back of one of my horses."
She turns her head away, and as much as I love the feel of her relaxed in my arms, even when I know she's afraid of horses, I wish I could look into those rich chocolate eyes of hers--so dark that I could get lost in their depths--to try and figure out what's going
on in that beautiful head of hers.
"Did you know who I was?" she asks, her mouth moving against my neck causing a chill to roll down my spine. My hand half on her ass and half on her pussy twitches violently with the sensation of it.
"No, I didn't. I knew you were a gorgeous woman who looked about as lost as I was feelin' when I walked into Hazel's that night. Knew exactly who you were back at Mav and Leigh's though."
"You wouldn't have tried to find me if we hadn't crossed paths today."
It isn't a question.
She's not wrong either. Something we both don't need me to verbalize, but I don't like her thinking I was just using her as some fuck toy either. We'd both been looking for something that night, but I don't make a habit of spending the night getting lost in a woman before vanishing, and I've felt bad about that since. My loneliness drove me to her, and it kept me from finding her after, but it won't keep me away from her now. There's a reason we crossed paths to begin with, I know that with absolute clarity.
"It's okay," she continues, a little softer. "I understand it better now."
I frown, seeing the roof of my house over the horizon. "Understand what, Caroline?"
"Why a man like you wouldn't have tried to find a woman like me."
"What the fuck does that mean?" I sharply ask, making her jump slightly.
She sighs. The sound holds notes of sadness, but she doesn't lift her head from my shoulder. Her lips continue to speak against my neck. "It's funny the things you remember. Those memories that you hadn't thought about in years comin' out of nowhere at the oddest times. I remember once, durin' one of the famous Davis boys' bonfires, somewhere around the time I turned eighteen, I was sittin' on the back of your sister's tailgate watchin' everyone let loose around me when I saw you with some tall Barbie doll-lookin' girl with the biggest boobs I had ever seen. The first thing I thought was how someone so thin could stand upright without topplin' over all the time. Stupidest thing to think about in that moment, but I did anyway. After that, though, I couldn't look away from y'all. Not even when you pushed her against Ronny Billings's truck and pulled her jean skirt up to her chest and started thrustin'. I kept watchin'. I don't even know why I'm rememberin' it so clearly now, but I was transfixed by you even then. Though I think that was also the same night I stopped walkin' around with my head in a cloud of fantasies."
Jesus Christ.
I don't remember a thing she's talking about, but I have no doubt it probably happened. I was careless with how I took my pleasure in years back. Those nights might've started out as a way for us to sneak beer in high school, but if she was eighteen when she saw me doing that, I was well past high school age and at that point, the bonfires had turned into an easy way for all the boys I grew up with to fuck young, tight, and eager-to-please pussy. I was no better than they were and I didn't stop being careless until I got burned by the wrong woman.
"I'm not the man I was back then," I defend myself, wanting her to believe my words more than I care to admit.
"I didn't say you were, Clayton." She takes a deep breath while I revel in the way her saying my full name makes me feel. "I was just explainin' why I know I'm not the type of woman a man like you would be goin' for. Well, I guess you might think I was that type of woman, since I gave myself to you just as easily as that girl did back then, but even if you did think that, you wouldn't have looked for me."
"Hey," I grunt with a harshness that even makes Dell pause slightly before continuing his lazy trot toward the stable.
"I wouldn't have looked for you either," she continues as if I hadn't spoken, unaware of the intense emotion she's igniting in me.
"Why's that?" I ask thickly.
"Because while I might think I'm not the kind of woman you want, I know I'm not the woman you need."
This girl. She can't be serious. Even if I didn't know deep in my bones she's worth the effort of trying to figure out her riddles, I'd still keep trying to get the answers if it meant I get to keep feeling like something I've been missing for a long damn time was just found.
"Oh, Linney, it's gonna be fun provin' you wrong." Her body jolts in my arms and I smile. "First things first, how about you tighten those sweet legs of yours around my body and hold on while I get us down from Dell. Then, if you don't have anywhere else you need me to take you, you let me start showin' you who I am now and not who you think I might be?"
" 'Linney'?" she questions, one brow arched.
"Really, darlin', that's all you heard?"
"My name is Caroline."
"I know your name, Caroline Lynn Michaels."
Her eyes widen and she clears her throat. "Well, then you know Linney isn't it."
"I know you're sweet as pie when you're all heated. Anyway, I can get you that way. That woman isn't prim and proper Caroline. That woman is wild-as-hell Linney."
"I'm not sleepin' with you," she sputters after I get us down and hand Dell off to one of the stableboys, not an easy feat, but she hardly weighs anything, as tiny as she is. Her face gets red the second she realizes we aren't alone anymore and, with a squeak, drops her head back to my shoulder.
"Jorge doesn't speak English, sweetness, but even if he did, he's paid to work, not to worry about what kind of sleepin' is goin' on between his boss and the beautiful woman wrapped tightly around him." I mean to put her out of her misery, but I can't help but tease her a little. It's way too satisfying to see her embarrassment painting her cheeks.
She mumbles something against my skin, her position muffling her words so badly I can't understand her. Her legs loosen around me next, and I regretfully release my hold and help her stand. I look down at the top of her head, noticing for the first time just how tiny she is now that she isn't wearing boots. Not just her height, but her build too. Without her boots, I'm guessing she's got to be close to a foot shorter than my six foot three. Every delicate inch of her makes me want to do nothing but wrap my arms around her, protect and worship her until she makes me stop.
Not once in my life have I felt this way about a woman who wasn't my sister or Leigh. My family. If I feel this strong of a pull to Caroline without really knowing a thing about her besides us being compatible, I imagine it could swallow me whole when I finally do get to know her.
"Dinner, Caroline. Let me cook us some dinner tonight and we can get to know each other a little better. Then maybe you'll listen to why I wouldn't have gone lookin' for you and you can fill me in on why you wouldn't have done the same."
"I'm not sleepin' with you," she repeats.
"Didn't invite you to," I joke, bending down to her eye level when she gasps. "But when I finally do get the privilege to have you again, there ain't gonna be any sleepin' then either, sweetness."
I press a swift kiss to her shocked lips before taking her hand and guiding her toward my house. The same house that makes me feel like I'm drowning in my solitude is looking a lot better now that I'm picturing her inside it with me.
I flip one of the two steaks on the cutting board and rub my own mixture of seasoning on the meat while Caroline shifts nervously on the barstool in front of me. She hasn't said much since we got inside. Every time I catch her looking at me, she ducks her head and blushes. It's cute as hell how shy she is. It's been thirty minutes of us playing this game while I prepare our dinner, and so far the only thing she's willingly asked me about is the ranch.
Safe topic, I reckon. Nothing that requires much input from her and not something that leaves the door open for me to press for more on her.
Not that I don't mind talking about how well the Davis ranch does breeding horses, especially if, by doing so, I make her more comfortable with me. But I'm not a patient man when it comes to something I want, and make no mistake, I want this woman.
"Tell me why you were runnin' back at the party," I ask her softly, continuing to handle the steaks. Hopefully by keeping my attention off her while I probe, I won't freak her out with the question that's been on the tip of my tongue since she collided
with Dell and me.
She sucks in a harsh pull of air. The sound makes my hands freeze before I look up from my task to study her. She doesn't like attention, something I don't need to know her better to figure out, but with that pained sound, I want her to see the sincerity behind my asking so she can't doubt that I genuinely want to know what upset her. When she doesn't answer, I give her what I hope to hell is a reassuring expression of compassion before I turn and walk the four feet to the large farm-style sink to wash off my hands. I feel her stare follow me the whole time I clean my hands, dry them off, and walk back to the island. This time I stand next to the food I was prepping so I can press my hands down on the counter and wait. I keep my face calm, and I hope she senses she can trust me and open up.
"You aren't going to finish gettin' the food ready until I talk about what happened, are you?"
My lips twitch.
"I probably should just tell you all the ugly parts of me so you'll understand what a waste of time pursuing this would be. Save you from gettin' upset when you realize you're wastin' your time on someone broken," she mumbles.
"Darlin', you're not broken. You're still standin', which means you're just a little dinged up, maybe even a little bit bent, but you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who isn't."
She frowns a little, her eyes searching mine rapidly. "You really believe that?"
"Sure do. You aren't ever truly broken until you can no longer keep movin' forward and they're lowerin' you into the ground. It's what you call the ugly parts of someone that prove to others just how strong they really are."
I was expecting her to look away, but when I stop talking those dark eyes watch me with such intensity I almost feel like I should look away, but I hold her gaze and let her take whatever time she needs to weigh my words. To find the truth in them, even if she isn't ready to fully believe them. You don't change your beliefs at the drop of a hat, but all it takes is one moment of doubt that there could be another way for things to start coming into focus. I've seen bent. I've seen fractured. But if the people I know who've been both can find what they need to be happy and move on, so can this beautiful woman who has me wrapped in her spell.