Chapter 7 Viviana #2
He is hard between my thighs, but just like last night, he stops and forces himself from me and leaving me aching—aching for more of his passionate kisses and fiery touches, of him filling me.
He shifts toward the bed’s edge, placing his feet on the floor, and shakes his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. It does things to me, knowing I affect him so much. But we did it all backwards. Not that I mind.
Reaching for him, I slip under his arm, ending up in his lap.
Grinning, I lock my arms around his neck and play with the ends of his hair, wishing to ease his mind. “I don’t mind.”
He snakes one arm around my back and lowers his hand toward my ass, giving the cheek a squeeze. “Yes, tempting me. Testing me. Dangling all that softness and perfection. My being a gentleman is a fucking hoax.”
“Admirable.”
He drags his hand down his face, sighing. “In vain.”
I giggle and palm his chest. “We can do it,” I say, infusing as much confidence as I can, sensing it’s important for him.
He nods, breathing in deeply. “What does my woman want to do?”
It hits me straight in the chest, where an explosion of rainbows ensues. Not only because he called me his, but because he asked me. No one ever inquires about my wishes.
“Really?” I sound so pathetic; I can’t even hide my eyes welling up, overcome by emotions. Men in my world simply take. He offers first. I am not that na?ve as to think he won’t take, but his genuine interest makes the biggest difference.
He cups my cheek, and I lean into his touch. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I am here now. I have you. You’ll never be alone, Viviana. You’ll never fear. I’ll make you my queen. But first…” He closes his eyes for a moment as if something pains him, which prompts me to ask.
“First what?”
“First, we just are.”
Just are. No pressure. No responsibility—a vacation from life.
Something tells me responsibility fills his as well.
“That sounds perfect.”
Our lips come together in sweet bliss, sealing the promise with a kiss that makes me believe everything will be all right.
Standing up with me in his arms, I yelp.
“Bring your stuff into my room,” he says, gently placing me down.
I am about to act when he smacks my ass, eliciting a laugh.
It’s unreal. Definitely a dream.
By the time I am done, I find him downstairs, looking mouthwatering in a pair of jeans and a cable-knit sweater matching my attire.
In his suits, he’s lethal, but in casual wear, yummy.
He waits for me with breakfast, and a dreamy sigh rolls out of my mouth.
Taken care of. Spoiled. That’s how I feel.
He’s quite literal, isn’t he?
I should put a stop to this and not delve deeper into this fantastical realm, but every second I spend with him makes me less reasonable and more his.
“I’ve always wanted to go horseback riding,” I say, sipping from my coffee nonchalantly as if being this open, sharing my dreams and wishes with him, is the most natural thing. “But first I would have to learn how to.”
Even though he gives me the impression he could give me everything, the fact is my parents have shielded me all my life. Horse riding was deemed too dangerous—more for my hymen than my life. Oh, the irony.
“Then you’ll learn.”
“Can you?” I ask, this surreal experience has a chokehold on me.
He nods, and after we finish breakfast, he takes my hand, and walks me outside. Opening the door of his silver sports car for me, he rounds it and slips into the driver’s seat.
This car fits him so well—raw power dipped in decadent elegance.
The engine purrs to life, making me vibrate in my seat.
Opening the window, the wind caresses my arm as we pass a forest. Dark red and yellow-colored leaves swirl around, dancing in the air in a last act before blanketing the ground.
There’s beauty in decay, the end ushering rebirth, the fall spectacle prompting me to shed the old me for something stronger to emerge.
I am living instead of solely existing, and it’s refreshing.
From the corner of my eye, I notice him watching me.
A blush creeps up my face. Having his attention is such a heady feeling. “You should look ahead.”
“It’s called multitasking.”
“That’s a fallacy.” I tilt my head, eyeing him seriously. “We can’t provide the same focus to two different tasks. I am more for getting one thing done right before starting another.”
He regales me with a wide grin laced with pride. “Are you going to tell that to the kids as well?”
I shrug. “I will show them. Kids are notoriously known to start a hundred things and finish nothing.”
He bursts out laughing, and soon we arrive at what appears to be a horse farm. The thick scent of hay fills the air; several men work with the horses, while others work with wheelbarrows and shovels.
I stumble out, not believing my eyes. Without thinking, I jump into his arms, and he twirls me around.
Deep gratitude floods me, and I pepper his face with kisses. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Tristan.”
“Anything and everything for you.” He says it like a vow and places me down.
Inside the stables, an older man takes us in.
“Boss,” he says, tipping his hat, and after a silent conversation, Tristan brings me to a horse that makes my heart stop at its sheer magnificence—a black, shining beauty.
“This is Altea.”
“She’s beautiful,” I murmur, slowly raising my hand to pat her.
“Let’s take her for a ride.”
I nod, still not believing I can do this. Giddiness bubbles in my belly, making me feel full.
“Is this yours?” I ask, seeing as some men have stopped working, peering at me with curious eyes.
“Yes,” he says, putting the saddle on, and goes through the entire process before he helps me up.
A whoosh steals the breath from my lungs as I straddle Altea.
“Who’s going to teach me?” I ask, looking around.
“Me, Viviana. Only ever me,” he says so low that I gulp.
Behind a white wooden fence, on soft ground, he helps me down as he explains the mounting process.
Nailing that, we move to me straddling her on my own.
Then I ride her, getting the feel for her as we start with the basics—walking, stopping, and turning. He’s so patient as I practice balance, posture, and coordination.
I straighten in the saddle, holding onto the stirrups with a firm grip as we spend the next hours outside.
At the end of the session, I dismount on my own, but he’s right there, just in case. He’s so attentive, so caring that my heart balloons, setting loose in my chest.
Then we move to the aftercare part—cooling down Altea, brushing and feeding her.
I couldn’t decide what my favorite part was even if I tried.
I look up at him, not believing today’s marvelous experience. “Thank you,” I say, lifting onto my toes and kissing him.
Two simple words could not convey the depth of my feelings, so I’ll just keep feeding him pieces of my heart by kissing him.
I don’t know what I will tell my best friend.
I don’t know how I will hide this from my family.
But what I know for sure is that I don’t want to stop. Cannot stop myself.
I never could, our connection following its course unperturbed—whether I am willing or not, that’s irrelevant, beyond my control.