I stare at that pretty face, so open and curious.The slender softness of her body.I’m about ready to back her up against the wall and devour her.
“It’s helpful to understand what my boss is passionate about,” she adds, licking her lips and looking away.
Right.Her boss.That would be me.
“This way to the main attraction.”I’m already grinning like a fool because I can’t believe how lucky I am to have this filly in my barn.“Here she is.”
Emma steps back as I open the stall door and step inside.“Do you want to come in?”
She shakes her head.“I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“I’ll show you.It’s okay.”
I take Emma’s hand and lead her in.“Here.Stand here.”
I bring Emma in front of me and tuck her in.She lets her back settle in against the front of my body.
We stand together in front and to the left of the filly.I know the horse has a sweet temperament, but she and I don’t yet have a relationship, and I have no idea what might spook her.I am careful to move slowly to ensure her comfort.I loop my fingers into the halter, right at the throat latch.
“The spot we’re standing in is called the safe zone.Most horses feel comfortable when people stand where they can see them but aren’t square in front of them, crowding them.”
“I can understand that,” Emma says.
“Here.Just like this.”The feel of Emma’s silky hand in mine is intoxicating.She’s hesitant as I raise her palm to the side of the filly’s neck, but she’s brave.She follows my lead to gently stroke the young horse’s brown-black coat.
I suspect Emma’s had to be brave a lot in her life.
She’s stroking the filly gently and steadily now, but I keep my hand over hers.I don’t want to let go.
“What’s her name?”
“Officially it’s Majesty’s Velvet Mirage.I call her Mira.”
“Mira.Perfect.”
“Absolutely perfect.”
“I didn’t know they could be so beautiful, Finn.”
“The most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”When I say that, I’m talking about Emma, not my horse.
I’m amazed when the filly decides to lower her nose toward Emma.She then makes direct eye contact with Emma, blinks slowly, and nuzzles her face.I’m just as amazed that Emma doesn’t jerk or jump back—she nuzzles her right back.
My heart clenches.
I’ve just realized that Emma’s shiny dark hair is the exact shade of my filly’s coat.It’s like they’re cut from the same cloth—gorgeous and sweet but on balance, an unknown quantity.
I lower my lips to whisper in Emma’s ear.“She’s royalty.”
“She’s a queen,” Emma says.“A goddess.”
“You got that right.”
Emma drops her hand.She’s aware of me behind her.She knows what I’m saying to her, and she knows what I want.I feel her body humming with need.
I drop the halter and slip my other hand away from Emma’s.I reach behind me to unlatch the stall door, then place both my hands on Emma’s slim waist and guide her backward into the aisle.
The filly watches us, alert and interested.I step around Emma to latch the stall again.When I turn, Emma is staring up at me, eyes wide.
