I worried my lower lip between my teeth. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but I’m going ahead with it.” Holding his gaze, I rested a hand on his solid chest, feeling his muscles ripple under my palm as he dragged in a shaky breath.
God, give me strength. Even in his silence, he was still so achingly hot and sexy. His features softened with an unexpected vulnerability and I understood the intent behind his words.
For his question could be taken one of two ways:
Was I ready for the double mastectomy?
Or was I ready for this ‘thing’ we had going on between us?
Is this ‘thing’ we have purely physical? I wondered. Something casual, light, and fun?
Or is it something more?
He was so much more than I’d expected and I was not prepared to catch all these ‘feels.’ It caught me off guard, especially when I catch a tan easier than I catch feelings.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on my feelings and puzzle out my emotions.
Edric saw the uncertainty in my eyes and turned to practicalities. “Sleep,” he told me.
Gradually, my voice grew soft with drowsiness as he stroked my hair. “Back to work tomorrow,” I whispered. “This was such a fun weekend. I dread having to go into work in the morning.”
“We’ll do something fun next weekend.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I promise.”
“Mmm,” I said, nestling against his chest. “Like what?”
“Leave it to me...” He played with my hair, finger-combing the long strands so they fanned out around my shoulders. “I’ll think of something.”
Burrowing into his arms, I let the warmth of his body imprint itself on mine. He made me feel so good and so comfortable and all fuzzy inside.
“Edric?”
“Yes?”
“There’s very little in life I value more than a man who will stroke my hair until the sun rises.”
“I am that man.”
“I know.” Smiling, I inhaled his potent male scent as he smoothed my hair down the small of my back, all the way down to my bum. Breathing out a sigh of contentment, I let my eyelids drift close, feeling his hand on my hair, stroking, caressing... lulling me into a deep and restful sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Edric
DATING A HORSE GIRL 101: Learn how to back out of the driveway blind when hay bales are blocking the back window of the truck.
Check that off my list. I was actually pretty proud of myself for mastering that.
And over the past few weeks, I was proud of myself for learning a multitude of things. I’d learned Gouda’s temperament, that he wasn’t a ‘hot’ wannabe racehorse nor was he a lazy donkey. The boy was somewhere in between.
I’d learned how often he needed to get turned out to stretch his legs and exercise.
I’d learned that in order to maintain a level of fitness—not performance levels—he needed to be exercised (walk-trot-canter) three times a week, for about twenty to thirty minutes a day.
I’d learned that trotting builds muscles and cantering builds up his lungs and cardio.
All in all, I’d say Gouda was getting used to me being around him, and I was getting used to having horsehair in my dryer and blankets stretched out on my workbench in the garage to dry.
“Edric.” Lucy touched my arm to pull me from my thoughts. “Are you listening?”
“I am.”
“Really?” Her eyes narrowed. “So what did I just say?”
“A horse that’s seldom ridden, but ridden to exhaustion every time you saddle up will become sore and become resentful.”
“Correct. So either you spread Gouda’s exercise workload throughout the week, or you try not to ride him so hard on the days that you do ride him.”
“Err...” I hedged, pushing a hand through my hair. “You won’t have to worry about me riding him hard. I’ve only done some trail riding here and there, just for fun.”
“Hey, I’m a ‘just for fun’ rider, too. I don’t compete or do shows or anything like that. I just like to toot around on local trails.”
“Yeah, you do trail riding but you also ride him for an hour a day, five to six times a week.”
“Gouda works best at minimum four days a week, forty-five minutes a ride.”
“Got it.”
“And remind Gouda of his manners,” she added as she moved her horse around in a controlled circle. “See how I position my body. My shoulders are open and slightly facing the direction he’s moving. This encourages forward movement. To cue for the stop, close your shoulders to face him and say, ‘Whoa!’”
“Whoa!” I said and Gouda halted.
“Good. He should always brake to stop and face you like he just did. If not, block his movement by stepping ahead of his shoulder line and draw the lead line in so his head turns toward you. Remember, this is a soft draw, not some game of tug-of-war.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A smile touched her lips. “I can tell he’s warming up to you, though.”
Her words were encouraging. “Oh, yeah?” I rested a hand atop Gouda’s withers. “How can you tell?”
“The way he leads well and his patience with you while he’s tied. And how he stands quietly while you groom him and saddle him.”
A whicker of approval whooshed from Gouda as I stroked his velvety-soft nose.
“Who’s a good boy?” I made a soft crooning noise at the back of my throat. “You are. Oh, yes, you are. You sure are a good, good boy.” When I lifted my gaze, Lucy was staring at me with a strange look in her eyes.
“What?” I asked. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“It was something.”
“I just find it so sweet,” she said, her face lighting with humor.
“What’s so sweet?”
“You and Gouda. What I’m seeing right now is the purest love of all... the love between a crusty, crabby man and the horse he never wanted.”
“Oii! Who said I wanted Gouda? I’m just doing this as a favor—to you.”
“Surrrre.” She dragged the word out with deliberate intent. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“You like that, don’t you.” I rubbed the horse between his ears. “Yes, yes, you do. Good Gouda day to you, you stud.”
“Edric.” She adopted a more serious tone. “I know Gouda’s adorable and in your eyes he can do no wrong, but you must always lead with a conscious awareness of what he’s doing. Pay attention to his pace and space. If he’s crowding you or bullying you, correct him. If he’s acting and you’re reacting, then he’s controlling you. When he’s listening and respecting you on the ground, he will do the same under the saddle.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “We’re buds. C’mon now, after all the time I’ve spent feeding him, cleaning his waterers, mucking his stall, and grooming him, we’ve formed a strong bond. Like I said, we’re buds. I got this.”
Sighing heavily, she ran her fingers through his walnut-colored mane. “If you’re unable to ride or work with him, at the very least spend time with him.” After a drawn-out pause, she said, “Right now, it’s looking like it’ll be six weeks before I get the green light from my surgeon to ride again. Dr. Prasad doesn’t even want me handling Gouda for a while. An inadvertent jerk from him could undo a lot of her hard work... at least that’s what she says.”
“Then you should listen to her. She’s a medical professional after all.”
“I know.” Lucy put her face against the copper-brown neck of her horse and hugged him tightly. For a time, it seemed as if she never wanted to let go. Eventually, she undid the harness and put him out in the pasture. Gouda cantered away, nickering at some crows sitting on a nearby tree.
Lucy watched him for a moment, then strode into the barn and put the tack away.
I followed closely behind her. “We should probably get going soon.”
“We should.” Her face relaxed into a smile. “I’m excited for our little excursion.�
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“Me, too.” The tack dropped with a loud thud as my arms came around, encircling her waist from behind. “Are you all packed?”
“Yes.” A laugh escaped her as I pulled her tight against my chest, melding her body to mine. “I just need to go and get changed.”
“What are you waiting for?” I nuzzled my lips against her neck.
In reply, she arched her back, thrusting those exquisite tits forward, drawing my gaze to the pointy nipples straining against her cotton tee.
“You mean this?” Reaching for the hem of her shirt, I tugged it free of her jeans and slid my hands beneath. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” My fingers undid the clasp at the front of her bra and she exhaled sharply as her breasts spilled free. “How dare you look so sexy on a horse? Watching your tits bounce up and down all morning when you went into a sitting trot.” I took a slow breath. “That was quite a distraction.”
“Was it now?” Closing her eyes, she let her head slump back against my neck as I shaped her breasts, balancing them carefully, feeling their weight in my palms.
“It was.” I kneaded her soft, supple breasts. “I love your tits but they were highly distracting.”
“How distracting?”
I bounced her tits in my palms before squeezing them gently. “They drove me fucking insane.”
“How insane?”
“I almost busted a nut watching them jiggling and swaying with each trot. All I could think of was your tits bouncing in time to my thrusts.”
“Good.” She released a deep, full-body sigh as I played with her breasts, flicking my thumbs back and forth across her nipples. “Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Your hands belong right there, right now.”
“I know.” I pressed her tits together, rolling her nipples beneath my thumbs and forefingers. “This is my natural habitat.”
“Mmm.” I heard her moan as I gently squeezed those rose-tipped nipples.
“You know how mountain goats cling to steep cliffs?”
“Mmm.” Her eyes fluttered open and she watched me, her brilliant gaze tracking my every movement beneath her shirt.
I smoothed my hands over her dark areolas set against the whiteness of the cotton tee. “Just like goats evolved to live on the mountainside, my hands are meant to live right here”—I gripped her tits—“clinging to these natural cliffs.”
She laughed, her breathing turning choppy as I tugged at her nipples and gave them a firm pinch.
I licked the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Maybe we should just stay here and roll around in the hay.”
“No. I’ve been waiting for this trip all week. It’s been a while since I’ve gone hiking or camping.”
“How long?”
“Not since I’ve moved out here. I am curious, though...”
“Yeah?” I said carefully.
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I enjoy the outdoors. That hiking and camping is my therapy... well, aside from Gouda, of course.”
“I stalked your Instagram.” I toyed with her tits. “Cute bio, by the way—Just a Girl and a Horse. Very fitting, being that your feed is flooded with Gouda pics. But I also came across a number of posts of you just wandering where the WiFi is weak.”
“You mean the woods?”
“Yes, pics of you wandering in the woods and setting up tents in the most aesthetically pleasing places.”
“Lord have mercy, you saw those?” She giggled helplessly. “How far back did you go scrolling through my feed?”
“All the way back. Does that creep you out?”
“Not really. I stalked your Instagram, too, and it’s just as I’d imagined.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s littered with thirst traps.” She sounded mildly amused. “Shirtless pics galore. You’re almost always half-submerged in water—in a hot tub, or a pool, or the ocean. And of course your entire feed is riddled with pensive shots of you gazing off into the distance, sprinkled with the odd pseudo-profound quotes.”
I shrugged. “The ladies dig that. And who am I to deny them what they want?”
“Now, we have to discuss your bio...” Her voice trailed off on a laugh.
“What about my bio?”
“Just Another Paper-Cut Survivor?” She smirked. “Really, Edric?”
“What’s wrong with that?” I chuckled, my ragged breath stirring her hair. “Everybody’s a survivor nowadays and I want in on that action. It gives me some clout.”
“What?” she countered. “Grand Slam title champion doesn’t give you enough clout?”
Under her cotton shirt, my hands slid unhurriedly over her breasts, caressing them, my calloused fingers teasing her turgid nipples. “I’m a humble man.” I squeezed harder, feeling her nipples protrude against my thumbs. “I hate talking about myself and highlighting my career as a professional athlete.”
“Lies.” Her eyes were glazed as she called me out. “You thrive and you love every minute of it.”
“I love every minute of this.” I played with her tits, teasing her with the hard ridge of my erection.
A soft whimper escaped her parted lips, sending a throb straight to my groin. “I’m actually surprised your bio didn’t say: Venture Capitalist with Multiple Irons in the Fire.”
I kept my eyes trained on her tits. Beneath the translucent fabric, her nipples puckered under my ministrations. “I love how you remember every tiny detail about me.”
Another thin whimper slipped past her lips as I caught her nipples between my fingers, plucking the engorged nubs as she rubbed her ass against my erection.
“But I’d like to think I’m a little more creative than that.” She was making me so goddamn hard I was finding it hard to speak at this point. “Slightly more original, for sure.”
“Mmm.” She moaned softly. “What would your caption say if it wasn’t ‘Just Another Paper-Cut Survivor’?”
“‘Forbes’ youngest self-made billionaire. Kylie Jenner’s empire ain’t got nothin’ on me.’ Hashtag VC, of course.”
“You’re so humble.” She pressed herself to me, digging her ass into my raging erection. “But I dig it.”
My balls lanced with heat and I inhaled with a sharp hiss, spinning her around. “Lucy, I’d love to stay and fuck, but if you want to go on this hike, we need to get going now.”
“Not yet.”
A ragged groan scraped from my throat as she cupped a hand over my bulge.
“No.” Her voice took on a husky rasp. “Not until I’ve unleashed the beast. RAWWWR.”
Err... did she just roar like a lion?
We stared at each other, struggling to keep a straight face before exploding into fits of laughter.
Chapter Eighteen
Edric
“EDRIC.” LUCY’S MOCKING tone turned into one of genuine amusement. “I still can’t believe that’s how you dress to go hiking.”
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”
“You look like a lion tamer.”
“Pfft!” I blew out a breath. “Whatever.”
“Honestly, it’s a bit overkill.” She gave a tinkling laugh. “You, with your Patagonia vest, your Tilley hat, your Salomon boots, and your hydration pack. We just walked past a little girl who hiked the same trail in her Barbie sandals and princess dress, for crying out loud. So relax.”
“I’m relaxed.” I injected conviction into my voice, although I was far from convinced this was relaxing by any means.
“So...” She flicked a glance over her shoulder as we climbed up a drainage creek through dense foliage. “This will actually be your first time camping out in the wilderness, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, scrambling to get my footing on the muddy embankment.
“Why?”
“Why?” I lost my footing, staggering to the left. “Why would I want to spend a small fortune at REI to live like a homeless person in the woods? This is ’Murica, for fuck’s sake, and I like my
luxury penthouse suites.”
“You’ve already spent a small fortune at REI to look like a lion tamer, so why not go for broke?” Lucy pulled her body upward, grunting as she made it over the mound of soft clay. “As for staying overnight at a luxury hotel, you might as well just wipe your butt with money. And believe me, there’s nothing luxurious about the Motel 6 or the Holiday Inn Express.”
“Lucy,” I said in a sensible voice. “Wiping your butt with cash is extremely unsanitary. Besides, there has to be a Ritz Carlton or Shangri-La nearby.”
“Nope. Not near this neck of the woods.”
“Are you sure?” I felt something solid press under my boots and used that to push myself over the embankment.
“Positive.”
“Great,” I said in a lackluster voice. “I guess we’ll be camping here tonight.”
“Stop complaining. You already agreed we’d camp in the wilderness tonight.”
“I know. But I don’t have to like it.”
“Ahhh,” she carried on, in obvious deference to the fact that I gave zero fucks about camping. “The dark night, the fresh air, the warm fire, the bright stars... I’m telling you, camping is the best,” she cried with gusto. “The best!”
“If you insist,” I said mildly as we trekked past redwood trees that grew so thick in spots they created an arc over the path.
“Ever had sex while camping, Edric? Huh—have you?” she goaded. “Of course you haven’t. Well, let me tell you, it’s fucking in-tents.”
“Wow,” I said without expression. “Wow. That was a real sad attempt at a dad joke.”
Ignoring the barb, she said grandiosely, “Take it all in. Breathe in the smell of the forest around you. Let it awaken your mind and unfurl all your senses.”
“Humph.” I huffed and made a great show of sniffing around. “Smells like decomposing leaves and dandelion mulch to me. Real refreshing.” I stopped in my tracks, pointing a finger at the dead woodland creature lying next to a tree. “Oh, look, there’s a partially decomposed squirrel over there.”
Meanwhile, Lucy was waxing lyrical like she was this pillar of Zen. “Mother Nature is in the air,” she said sagely. “I feel my lungs inflate with the onrush of love for this wilderness that surrounds me.”
The Good Mistake (Hemsworth Brothers #3) Page 21
