9 | Ridin’ lessons 🔥
COLTON
She walks into the stables looking like sin wrapped up in a pretty package. White blouse tucked into denim shorts, toned, tan legs on display. Trouble, through and through.
“You really think those shoes are good for ridin’, darlin’?” I jerk my chin at her sneakers.
Clementine shrugs. “Didn’t exactly plan on getting bribed into riding lessons when I packed.”
I pull the boots I picked out for her off the shelf and hold ’em out.
She quirks a brow. “You just happen to have these lying around?”
“Still a size four?” I ignore the jab, watching her toe off her shoes.
She rolls her eyes. “Rub it in, why don’t you.” She pulls the boots on and scowls up at me. “I look ridiculous.”
I let my gaze travel over her, slow and appreciative. “You look like a cowgirl. And a damn fine one at that.” I tip my head toward the gelding. “Come here.”
She crosses her arms when I stop in front of my horse. “What, you don’t have a cute little pony for me to practice on?”
“No point startin’ small,” I say, patting the saddle. “Besides, if you need me to join, a pony couldn’t handle both our weights.”
Her eyes narrow. “Ah. So that’s the plan.”
“I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to get you back in the saddle, Tiny.” I rap my knuckles against the stirrup. “Up you go.”
She groans but grabs hold, shoving her boot in. The horse shifts, and she instantly stiffens, yanking her foot away. “Yeah, I changed my mind.”
“Not a chance.” I step close, patting my gelding’s flank. “Horses feel your fear. You gotta breathe. Trust him. Trust me.”
Her eyes flash. “I nearly broke my neck when I fell, Colton. I can’t just—”
“Bite the damn bullet, baby.” I grip her waist, lifting her into the saddle. “There we go.”
She squeals, scrambling for the reins, knuckles blanching as she grips it tight. The gelding stomps, testing her, and she looks about two breaths from crying.
“Easy,” I say low. “Just dance with him. Give a little, take a little—you remember.”
“Get me down! Colton—”
“You sure about that?” I tug the bridle, leading us into the riding arena. “’Cause if you quit now, you may never ride again.”
Her jaw locks, stubborn, and that’s all the permission I need. “Atta girl.”
I run a hand over her thigh, squeezing just enough to ground her. “You’re sittin’ up like a damn fence post. Loosen your hips, sweetheart. Move with him, not against.”
“Easy for you to say,” she snaps, “you’re not the one on top of this beast.”
I grin. “I can be.”
I swing the gate closed, plant my boot in her stirrup, and swing up. Her eyes go wide when my chest brushes her back, my thighs bracketing hers.
“Colton, we’re hurting the poor horse.”
“Hush now. He can handle us both. I just want you to feel it again.” I nudge the gelding into a canter and close my hands over her hips, steering her body. “There. That’s it, let go. Just follow me.”
She mutters something about hating me, but her hips betray her—jerking, then finding the rhythm.
Christ almighty. Heat spears straight through me.
“That’s it, baby girl,” I murmur, low in her ear. My voice makes her shiver. “You’re gettin’ it now.”
I scoot a little closer, pulling her hips back until she’s riding me more than she is the horse. She doesn’t fight it—just arches into me like she’s been waiting for it.
“Colton—”
“Shhh.” My hips roll, cock pressing into that sweet ass of hers. “Just feel it. Feel me.”
Her head tips back, throat bared, breath spilling out shaky and hot. My thumb strokes the top of her thigh, and she lets out a broken sound that makes my cock ache.
“Is this okay?” I rasp, breath harsh.
She arches more, silent but pleading.
I let my hand drift, skimming the inside of her thigh. Not quite where she wants me—but just enough to make her shudder. “Relax, Tiny. I’ve got you.”
The gelding keeps an easy pace, but I barely feel him. My whole world’s narrowed down to the slip and slide of her hips against mine, the heat sparking off her skin. She pants, leaning back harder into me, and it’s all I can do not to groan her name.
Then her eyes snap open. “Get me off.”
“Yes, ma’am.” My pulse hammers, hand grazing higher—
“Off the horse, Colton. Now.”
Right.
I grit my teeth, tuck my hard-on under my waistband, and swing down. Hold my arms up just in time to catch her when she practically jumps into me. I set her down gentle, but she slips out of my hold, cheeks pink, eyes wild.
She fumbles with the gate, cursing under her breath, so I swing it open for her.
“Clementine, I—”
“Don’t.” She bends down to pick up her sneakers, and it takes all I’ve got not to ogle her ass in those little shorts.
She takes a few more angry strides, then plops down on a hay bale, trying and failing to pry the boot off her foot.
“Keep ’em,” I say, voice low. “They’re yours.”
“I don’t want them,” she snaps. “Stupid, stupid boots.”
“They’re just a little stiff.” I kneel at her feet, my hands circling her ankle. “Hold still.”
She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, but she stills.
I ease the boot off, my hand sliding up to cradle her calf. “You did good today, Clem. Better than you think. You should be proud.”
She scoffs, looking anywhere but me, but that blush gives her away. “We had no business doing what we were doing on the back of a damn horse.”
“Horseback ridin’ tends to happen on the back of a horse, Tiny.”
“You know damn well what I mean.”
My palm drifts higher, rough skin grazing her thigh. My voice drops, thick. “You felt good out there, movin’ with me. Just like before.”
She swallows hard, pulse fluttering at her throat.
“Don’t,” she whispers, but there’s no edge to it—a warning without teeth.
I lean in, lips ghosting her ear. “Tell me you didn’t like it, then. Tell me you didn’t feel damn good, grindin’ into me.”
Her eyes flare, glowing like embers in a fire pit, but her lips part.
“Come on, baby girl. Don’t pretend it ain’t still burnin’ between us.”
She swallows, jaw tight. “What, is this what you do? Invite girls over for riding lessons, then fuck them in the stables?”
“What do you take me for, Clem?” I murmur, leaning closer. “I haven’t fucked anyone in these stables in seven years. You’re the only one I ever wanted here.”
That breaks her.
She inhales deeply, chest rising—furious at herself, at me, at all of it—then smacks my hat clean off, fists my collar, and slams her mouth to mine.
The kiss is hot and filthy, all teeth and tongues. Her taste floods my mouth, familiar and delicious. I groan deep, gripping her thigh and hauling her into my lap, her back pressed against the hay.
She grinds against my cock, and I damn near see stars.
I pull her blouse out of her shorts and shove my hands under, seeking her hot, smooth skin.
My hand cups her breast, thumb brushing her nipple roughly beneath the thin lace of her bra.
She gasps into my mouth, nails digging into me like she wants to brand me.
I yank my shirt over my head, and her hands are everywhere—shoulders, back, waistband—dragging me closer. I grind up into her, hard enough it hurts, but neither of us cares.
“Fuck, Clementine,” I growl, lips sliding down her throat. “Seven years, and you still ruin me.”
“Colton…” Her voice trembles, half warning, half yearning. “Wait.”
I freeze, breath ragged against her skin.
Her throat works under my lips. Then she pushes back, fixing her blouse. She tucks it back into her shorts with trembling hands, her lips still flushed and swollen from our kiss. “We shouldn’t.”
It’s a knife to the ribs. “Why the hell not?”
“After last time—”
“I know,” I cut in, jaw tight. “But seven years is long enough, Clem. I ain’t waitin’ anymore.”
She shakes her head, but doesn’t speak.
I grip her thigh, grounding her. “Let me take you out. Proper. Let me do right by you.”
Her eyes soften, darting over my face, lingering on my kiss-bruised lips.
Finally, she sighs. “I don’t think so, Colt.” She pushes to her feet and walks out of the stables without so much as a backward glance.
I grit my teeth and watch her go.
One thing I know for sure, though—I already lost her once.
I’m not letting her go again.
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Ugh, we loooove a man on a mission, don't we? ???????