“Don’t.” Eliam’s voice was calm but firm. “Move with him, not against him.”
“I don’t know what that means!”
“Feel the rhythm.” He kept walking, leading Phaeon in a slow circle around the courtyard. “Let your hips follow the movement.”
She tried, but everything felt wrong. She was bouncing slightly with each step, her thighs already starting to ache from gripping the saddle too tightly.
“You’re fighting it,” Eliam observed. He stopped Phaeon and moved to her side, his hand finding her thigh again. “Relax here.” His touch was warm through the wool. “You’re going to exhaust yourself.”
“This is relaxed,” she lied.
His eyebrow arched. “Is it?” His hand moved to her calf, which was indeed rigid with tension. “And this?”
“Fine, I’m terrified. Happy?”
He squeezed her calf gently before returning his hand to her thigh. “Think of it like when I’m inside you.”
She nearly choked. "What?"
"You heard me." His voice dropped to that particular tone that made her breath catch. "You know how to move your hips in rhythm. How to anticipate motion and match it. How to let someone else guide the pace while you follow."
Her face burned. "That's not—"
“The same principle applies.” His hand pressed against her thigh, demonstrating the rhythm. “You don’t think about it when you’re in bed with me. This is no different.”
“It’s completely different. One involves a massive animal that could kill me.”
“And the other involves me,” he said with dark amusement. “I fail to see the distinction.”
Despite her terror, she found herself laughing. “You’re terrible.”
“But effective.” He adjusted her foot in the stirrup. “Weight in your heels, not your toes. Like when you’re bracing against the bed whenI—”
“I get it!” she cut him off, face flaming.
“Do you?” His lips curved slightly. “Then show me. Move with him the way you move with me.”
He started walking, Phaeon following placidly. This time, Briar tried to focus on the motion instead of her fear. The horse’s gait was steady, predictable. She found herself starting to anticipate the movement, her hips beginning to follow the motion naturally.
“Better,” Eliam said, and there was approval in his voice that made her stomach flutter. “Now, you’re going to steer.”
“What? No, you’re steering. I’m just sitting here.”
“I’m leading. You’re going to steer.” He stepped away from Phaeon’s head, though he stayed close to her leg. “Use the reins. Gentle pressure in the direction you want to go.”
She pulled lightly on the left rein. Phaeon’s head turned, but he kept walking straight.
“With your legs too,” Eliam instructed. “Press with your right leg to go left.”
She tried again, adding leg pressure this time. Phaeon turned left in a wide arc. The success sent a little thrill through her.
“I did it!”
“You turned left. Congratulations.” But she could hear the amusement in his voice. “Now right.”
She tried the opposite, pulling the right rein while pressing with her left leg, and Phaeon obligingly turned right.
“Can you make him stop?” Eliam asked, stepping back further.
