8. Cassandra #2
“On second thought, I’m just going to go to bed,” I said, turning for the barn entrance.
Christian caught my hand. “Come on, Princess.” He nudged me toward the massive chestnut-colored horse. “Up you go.”
“Christian, I?—”
“Left foot in the stirrup. I’ll give you a boost if you need it.”
“I really don’t?—”
Apparently, his boost was more of a lift than a hand. My boot barely touched the stirrup before my ass was on the front part of the double-seated saddle. Libby shuffled, getting used to my weight, but it scared me to death.
I shrieked, grabbing at whatever I could to keep from falling to my death.
Then Christian was stepping up, slinging his leg around, and sliding into the seat behind me. “Calm down. There’s no need to shout.”
“Easy for you to say! I almost fell off!”
“You didn’t almost fall off,” he said without a care in the world. “I won’t let you fall.” The brim of his hat bumped against the back of my head as he leaned forward. “I’m gonna touch you. Are you okay with that?”
“Only if you help me get down.”
“If you’re gonna be out here, you need to learn. At this hour, no one will be watching you.”
“I have absolutely zero reason to be on top of a horse.”
But Christian ignored my protests. His hands slid down my waist. “Square up your hips,” he said, giving my thighs a squeeze.
Carefully, I shifted, sitting firmly in the middle of the saddle as I ignored those damn butterflies.
A ridge of leather separated him from my ass. At least he had fitted Libby with a saddle meant for two. I didn’t know if I could handle his body wrapping around mine.
His gentle rumble sent shivers up my back. “Take the reins.”
I didn’t realize I had a vise grip on the front of the saddle. Libby shifted between her feet again. I squeaked, white knuckling the front of the saddle.
Christian’s hands on my hips steadied me. “That’s just her way of saying she’s ready to go.”
“Yeah—well—I’m not.”
“Have you been around horses before?”
“Do the horses in Central Park count?”
“No.” He took my hand in his and leaned forward. Christian’s abdomen was warm against my back as he pressed my palm against Libby’s shoulder. “Give her some love. She’ll love you back.”
“I thought I already had her undying love after she nearly ate my hand off when she was going for the peppermint?”
Christian chuckled. “You do.”
His palm stayed pressed against mine as I gingerly stroked her short hair.
“You ready?” he asked as the fibers of his beard tickled my neck.
I looked over my shoulder. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“I suppose if I get thrown off this beast, I’ll get a nice nap in a vegetative state. Let’s go.”
Christian let out a loud laugh, startling Libby and me. “Take the reins.”
Apparently, I did it wrong because he delicately changed the way I gripped the leather.
“Squeeze her with your legs,” he said as he let go of my hands and sat back.
I pinched my lips between my teeth as I tried to hide my terror.
Apparently, I didn’t do a good job of hiding it because Christian put his hands back on my hips and offered a reassuring, “I’ve got you,” as Libby slowly took off into the grass.
And I believed him.
“Keep your back straight.
“It is straight,” I argued.
Christian snickered. “You’re hunched over so far that Libby’s head is higher than yours.” Strong hands pressed against my stomach. “Posture like a princess, hips like a whore.”
“Excuse me?”
“Keep your back nice and straight. Sit tall in the saddle, but keep your hips loose so you can move. Kinda like riding a motorcycle.”
“Do I strike you as a woman who rides a motorcycle?”
“You strike me as the kind of woman who is full of surprises.”
A caustic laugh slipped out of my mouth. “I’m not. What you see is what you get.”
“Ahhh—I don’t know about that.” He paused to correct my grip on the reins. “No one’s that simple.”
“Are you really supposed to be dissecting someone while you have them hostage on top of a horse?”
“You uncomfortable, Princess?”
“With the horse, yes. With the inquisition, also yes.”
But with him? I wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the most at peace I had felt in a long time.
His breath was warm against my temple as he said, “Gently pull the rein on the left side so she’ll make the turn onto the trail up here.”
I pulled back until there was tension on the leather strap. Libby dipped her head and—to my surprise—headed to the dirt trail that split to the left.
“Let up when she does what you want and give her a rub.”
With a little more confidence, I leaned forward and smoothed my hand down her mane.
Libby, pleased with the attention, picked up her pace, jolting me in the saddle.
“Christian!”
“You’re alright,” he said as he settled his hands back on my hips. “I’m not gonna let you fall.”
“I bet you say that to all the women you take on midnight rides.”
“It’s hardly midnight. It’s just after nine.”
“That’s midnight for you, cowboy,” I sassed.
“You’re not wrong,” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t been up this late in a while.”
I peered over my shoulder and caught him looking down at me. “Are you sure you’re qualified to be giving riding lessons?”
He hit me with a quick flash of his smile. “I taught both my girls how to ride before they could go up and down the stairs by themselves.”
“Really,” I mused. “You taught your girls the phrase ‘posture like a princess, hips like a whore?’”
Christian’s laugh was dark. “That was the saying I was taught with. My girls got the G-rated version.” His hands pressed against my waist, and I could feel the rhythm of my hips matching Libby’s strides. “Hips like a hula hoop.”