Mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him and that continual stroking against my arm was sending almost painful spikes of sensation through my skin, through my blood and nerves, setting off flares of longing and urgency in my stomach and thighs, and yes, burn me though it did to acknowledge it, in my breasts and even between my legs. I had to fight the constant urge to wriggle, to hitch my hips this way or that to stop that weird, aching, almost wanting sensation down there. Or maybe not exactly stop, just, more like, change to something a little less alarming.
It was strange but not exactly unpleasant. Unfortunately, all that weird activity was making me horribly conscious of all the ginger beer I’d drunk earlier and that my bladder was starting to bother me a little; just a little advance bulletin regarding upcoming needs, thank you very much.
I looked away from William’s absorbed profile and down at my arms, resting on a big cushion in my lap. One of William’s arms was there too, angled across the pillow so he could drive me bat crackers with that incessant, mindless stroking.
I wanted to get up and go to the bathroom. I wanted some of the potato chips sitting on the coffee table in front of us, out of my reach unless I moved and dislodged William. I wanted him to look at me and lean over to kiss me.
I wanted, I wanted, I wanted. I don’t think I’ve ever been more conflicted in my life.
And just like that, I went from confused to cranky. How dare he be so absorbed in the stupid bloody movie when I was sitting here beside him in my brand new, darkest indigo jeans and a turquoise tee that Tash swore made my eyes intense and sexy. So much for her advice. Obviously exactly what you put into the jeans and the sexy-eyes tee mattered a lot more than Tash realised.
Irritably, I hitched my hip sideways, trying to ease the spreading numbness in my butt. I’d been sitting still too long, petrified of moving and disturbing my stupid boyfriend while he watched his stupid movie. And it hadn’t mattered; William just kept looking at the screen and his hand just kept sliding up and down my arm. Stuff it, then, I was going to go for the chips. Who cared if I got fat? William obviously wouldn’t even notice.
I sat up, scooting my backside forward to lever myself from the depths of the lounge, and William’s fingers slid from my arm and brushed the side of my breast. I froze, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, the skin of my breast pulling taut, nipple pinching painfully, like when I stripped off in my bedroom on a frosty-cold winter evening. My heart crashed against my ribs as I wondered frantically how I should react and whether he’d meant it—
“Hell, sorry,” he mumbled, which answered that. “I didn’t mean to do that. I—you must think I’m trying it on.”
“I don’t,” I murmured. Didn’t he want to touch me? Were all the whisperings and warnings about what guys wanted crap, or did he just not want me?
“I don’t want to rush this,” William said and I darted a glance at him. Something in the tone of his voice sent a shiver along my skin.
“I didn’t think you were,” I said.
“I hope not.” He paused and I felt the feathery touch of his fingers brush my arm again, so light I might have thought I imagined it except for the spinning stab of delight that shot straight from my arm to my belly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh,” I said, all that deliciously scary zinging energy snapping out with a dull deflating thud. Here it comes. I knew it.
I looked down at my twisted hands, resting on their protective pillow, and it was just too much. I dug my fingers into the pillow, ignoring the startled flare of pain in my joints, and flung it off me, furiously disappointed. The pillow flipped clumsily across the coffee table and thumped softly into the TV screen.
“What the hell—? Your hands.”
“I’m fine,” I ground out.
“But that must have hurt.”
“Don’t worry, it wasn’t you. You didn’t hurt me,” I said pointedly and William’s confused expression changed rapidly to one of enlightenment.
“Hey, I didn’t mean that.”
“Then what did you mean? Why does everything have to be about my stupid hands?”
William ran a hand agitatedly through his hair. I saw with some amazement that his hands, those strong beautiful hands I admired so much, were shaking. “Believe me, I think about other parts of you than your hands. Even though I shouldn’t.”
My heart just about stopped.
“Like what?” I asked him, heart now beating madly in my chest. I shifted on the couch so I was facing more towards him, wanting to see the look in his eyes when he answered me.
“What do you think?” he said. “These,” and he brushed the back of his hand over my breasts. I gasped and he looked at me intently, holding my gaze with his. “And this,” he added as he ran his thumb over my lips, “and this and this.” He ran his hand up my thigh and, on the final ‘this’, reached his hand around and planted it against my butt, scooping me towards him.
My heart skittered madly now and the one word that bounced around my brain was a jubilant yes! Yes and yes and yes! He did want me. Despite all my fears and doubts, he did want me.
I reached with both hands and cupped his face in my palms, curling my aching fingers lightly around his jaw and finally got the word out. “Yes,” I murmured, bold enough to meet his gaze now I had the answers I’d craved. “I want you too,” I added, because he sat there staring at me as though he hadn’t heard. Then I did what I’d wanted to do throughout the boring army-fatigues blur of the movie I hadn’t even wanted to watch. I drew his face towards mine and met his mouth with my own.
Into that kiss I guess I poured all my pent up frustration, all the longing I’d felt not just while I sat beside him that night but over the months I’d so relentlessly beaten down my feelings for him, convinced it was hopeless.
William made a thick, not-quite-a-word sound and then he kissed me back with a passion and enthusiasm I definitely hadn’t conjured even in my most desperate and daring daydreams. He pressed against me urgently, his long body warm and solid, his weight bearing me back into the springy depths of the couch. I sank beneath him, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck, plunging the fingers of my good hand into his hair. Oh, I’d wanted to do that for so long and the warm silkiness of it at last between my fingers was worth the creaking protest in my joints.
William, with his strong healthy hands, seemed to have been freed by my words for those hands were all over me. His palm slid over my breast, his fingers traced my collarbone, the heel of his hand briefly pressed against my hipbone. It was like he was learning me with his hands and I understood the urge. In my limited capacity I was doing the same to him.
We sprawled tangled together on the lounge and kissed and touched. A blissed-out, dreamy sensation gradually swept away my ability to think, breaking down sentences into irrelevant syllables and words with every touch of his hand, or change in pressure from his mouth on mine, or the pressure of his lips nibbling over my jaw and kissing shivers onto my neck, until all I could think was yes. Oh yes.
Chapter 14
It’s a really slow process when you’re trying to saddle up your horse and your boyfriend keeps putting his hands on you, turning your body to his so he can slide his hands down your back and tangle his fingers in your hair and kiss you. Kiss you a lot.
Not that I minded any of that, but Jinx’s patience was definitely wearing out. He stood with his ears flopped backwards, lips pressed together, his expression a little sour. Some might say mulish. It was about as grumpy as he ever got, so I wriggled free from William with reluctance, but also a resolve to get on with things. I might have a boyfriend now (a boyfriend!) but I was determined not to be one of those girls who neglects her horse because she’s got a guy in her life.
I was a little worried, too, that someone might catch us messing about. Saturday afternoon meant everyone was at home and the boys were both around the farm somewhere. I’d last seen Jennie in the kitchen, but she could be just about anywhere
. As I settled the saddle blanket on Jinx’s glossy back, my brain dredged up the thought that I hadn’t been so worried about who might see us last night as we made out like crazy on the lounge. Funny, as I didn’t think my brain had actually been there at that point. I thought it had sort of blinked out. It was a memory that today was both a delicious moment of recall and a little bit scary.
William stepped up beside me with my saddle and settled it onto the blanket on Jinx’s back. He gave my cheek a sliding caress (and me the shivers) before moving around my grumpy horse to let the girth and stirrup down for me, smiling across Jinx at me the whole time.
We hadn’t had sex. We hadn’t even come close really—after all, we were in the family room of my parents’ house and there were still a few doubts circling in my mind. Eventually my full bladder had dragged me back to boring reality and the urgent press of other basic needs. But today there was this odd looseness between us. An ease in the way our bodies interacted that I definitely noticed and I suspected William did too. I’d never known that kind of connection and body awareness with a person before, only with Jinx. And it was very different with William.
For the first time in my life, I was aware of sex as a reality. As something that I might actually participate in at some time. Catching William’s deep blue gaze across the back of my horse, my skin tingling all over at the way his eyes darkened, I thought that time might be sooner rather than later. Another thought that simultaneously thrilled and terrified me.
But I still had a competition to train for and a horse who badly needed work if I was going to achieve any of my goals. William was a delicious distraction right when I needed to focus on Jinx’s training, but I shrugged that thought away. The day was too perfect to go inviting trouble.
I knew I should have touched wood when I had that thought earlier about trouble. I don’t know whether it was the long wait while I got him ready or maybe unease at the change to our routine in simply having William there, or just a sign of the general way our progress had taken a negative turn, but Jinx was having none of it today. He was having none of me.
I walked Jinx on a long rein to give him a breather and me a chance to collect my thoughts. I wasn’t sure what to do, whether to pack it in for the day or keep pushing in the hope of some kind of breakthrough.
William, sitting on the rails beside the paddock gate, had so far been a shining example of tact; a silent spectator who hadn’t made any suggestions or offered any useless but well-meaning advice. If I hadn’t been already most of the way in love with him, that alone would have sent me sliding in that direction.
I made up my mind and gathered Jinx’s reins in my hands. Messing about with my boyfriend wasn’t going to get Jinx in tune for that competition and I had a sneaking suspicion my wanting to stop then had more to do with the distraction of William’s presence than with Jinx’s lack of cooperation.
I pulsed my legs lightly and rhythmically against Jinx’s sides, took a gentle squeeze on the outside rein and asked him to trot. Jinx moved off grudgingly and my stomach clenched in anticipation of more trouble. Trying to ignore the acrobatics in my gut, I went into sitting trot and gave Jinx a strong half-halt, then turned him fairly smartly using my leg and seat aid and eased the rein to send him forward.
He went, alright, leaping forward into canter. Annoyed, I clamped my thighs against the saddle and blocked harshly with my hand.
“No, Jinx, trot,” I murmured encouragingly and he made an ugly jarring downward transition that almost snapped my jaws together and pushed me a little out of position. I shifted quickly in the saddle, sliding my butt forward to get my seat back in place, not helped by Jinx sidling sideways like a big gangly crab, tossing his head and snatching at the bit. You bugger Jinx, just settle down and listen. But I could feel him edging further and further away from me, coming off the aids I was giving him. Another half-halt, another turn, then another, and I found myself riding to my weak side with Jinx getting stronger and stronger in my failing hands.
“Come on,” I hissed between clenched teeth. I wanted to give up, just haul my uncooperative horse back to walk and then get off and let William help me put Jinx away. Then we could go and do something a hell of a lot more fun and rewarding than this.
Damn, there was that temptation again. I glanced briefly at William, who was standing by the gate now and watching me carefully, but I couldn’t spare a smile for him, let alone a wave. Too tempting and too risky with Jinx gathering energy beneath me like an unexploded bomb.
I could feel frustration coming off Jinx, too, or whatever the equivalent for horses was. He didn’t understand what I wanted him to do. All he knew was he wanted to run and I wasn’t letting him. Again it seemed hopeless and the thought went through my mind once more that maybe I should cut my losses for today. But no, I argued with myself, I couldn’t quit. I had to keep trying, because how was I ever going to do well at Goulburn and get Jinx onto the squad if I couldn’t ride him through a little training hurdle like this?
Maybe the problem was me holding him back too much. As Jinx trotted a 20-metre circle a little more quickly than I really wanted him to, I wondered if perhaps I was trying too hard and asking for too much. Asking him to collect more than he was able to. I knew that true collection was converting some of the horse’s forward energy ‘upwards’, so that he moved with more spring in his limb and more suspension between steps, but maybe I was making the mistake I’d seen lots of riders do and blocking the flow of the energy, trying to slow Jinx down rather than gather him ‘up’.
It made beautiful sense and I immediately felt lighter and more confident, now that I had thought of something to actually do. I’d give Jinx a bit of a canter, to get us both a bit freer and thinking more forward.
I barely formed the thought and Jinx picked up on my intent and leapt forward into canter. I eased the reins and allowed him to go on, increasing the arc of the circle to accommodate the faster pace. Jinx snatched at the bit and tried to charge off. I sat deep and resisted, telling him that was fast enough, thank you very much. He sat back on his hindquarters and his forehand lightened, rising in front of me. I eased my seat, allowing just a fraction with my aching fingers. For several strides it was all there and I was afraid to blink or breathe or even think in case I disrupted that glorious moment of harmony where Jinx’s neck flowed up out of his shoulders in front of me, curving onto the bit, the reins a springy energetic bridge between the bit he carried in his mouth and my hands.
This was why I did it. Why I gave up other less physically challenging (and way less interesting) hobbies and said no to my friends and hurried home after school. This was why I swam all those monotonous laps until my fingers shrivelled and my nose burned with chlorine. And why I put up with the falls and the frustrations and the never-ending pain in my hands. For this moment. Whenever it happened.
And then, just as quickly, just as always happened, I lost it and the perfect glorious moment was behind us. Jinx jerked at the bit, testing, a little uncomfortable in this new way of going, and with a stab of pain my fingers cramped and the rein slipped through my loosened, non-responsive grasp. Jinx, released from the framework I’d so carefully shaped around him with my legs, seat and hands, reverted to what he knew best: speed.
Unaffected by my attempts to get him back, Jinx dug at the ground with long, powerful strides, faster and faster. I wrapped my legs around him and thought furiously, knowing if he got really worked up there was no way this was ending any other way than with me on the ground, either because he dumped me there or I’d bailed out voluntarily. I was not keen to do that in front of William.
I sat deep in the saddle, resisting the urge to curl my body forward over Jinx’s bobbing neck for better comfort and balance, and kept my back firm and straight, all my weight sinking down my spine and onto his. I didn’t bother trying anything so fine as a half-halt, knowing Jinx was beyond listening to the weak aid that was the best I’d be able to muster. I concentrated instead on steering him with
my body, turning him into a smaller circle that made no accommodation for his speed, basically offering him the choice of slowing down or falling over.
For a while I thought he was beyond self-preservation, as he tore around in smaller and smaller circles. I was distantly aware of William shouting my name, but I had no time for that right now, because if Jinx started to slip I wanted to know in time to jump off before he hit the deck with one of my legs the meat in a sandwich between his 500kg body and the unyielding ground.
Finally, he slowed, although I think it was more the reduced fitness from the patchy work he’d been getting lately that made him canter slower than any awareness that if he kept going fast he’d crash. Thoroughbreds are a bit one-track-mind that way. It definitely made it a gamble to circle and hang on and hope, but my only other option was to ride him into the gate and that choice ended in a certain crash. I’d rather take my chance and the circle trick had always worked back in the early bad days.
Jinx dropped with a jolt back into trot, but I was having none of that. He wasn’t supposed to be the one who made the decisions, so I steeled myself against the laboured sound of his breathing and the damp heat rising off his body and kicked him back into canter. Back in control, I re-established rein contact and got Jinx back on the aids and took him through a series of transitions and then I did a bit more slow trot, offering him a longer rein so he could stretch. Finally I asked him to walk.
He came down to walk obediently, although by then he was flat with tiredness and the transition was a bit ugly. I gave him a pat and let out the reins so he could stretch his long neck out completely.
Riding on Air Page 12
