Her voice came from the other side of the door. Please, God, don’t let her have heard me come!
I took a steadying breath and straightened up, still pinning the door closed.
“Coming!” I called out; I was lucid enough to see the humor in that rather apt response.
Righting my jeans, I grabbed a shirt from the peg and opened the door. I was so grateful for my release, else the sight that greeted me would have tipped me over the edge. Cladonly in tight-fitting jodhpurs, riding boots, and sports bra, she looked ready for a raunchyPlayboyphoto shoot, her toned abs glistening in the heat of the day, her hair pulled back in a single tie at the base of her neck. She was totally fuckable and couldn’t be any more out of my league, even if she was gay and more importantly, wasn’t engaged to my stepfather.
“Here,” I said, offering her the shirt.
“You okay?” She was studying me intently, concern etched in her features. “You look very flushed, perhaps you need to get out of the sun for a bit. We could always do this later.”
Flushed! I bet I did. I was bound to be sporting my post-romp glow!
“No, I’m fine,” I said quickly, wanting to change the subject, “I’m just going to grab a drink, you want something?”
“Yes, please.”
She took the shirt from my outstretched hand but her eyes held me hostage, their green depths flashing with some unknown thought that I tried to discern. And then I lost myself in that look; the air filling with a palpable tension as her interest became apparent, her gaze turning hot and hungry. She wanted me!
“You have lovely honey-toned hair,” she said softly, reaching out with her free hand to toy with a loose strand.
Every nerve ending in my body rushed to the touch. I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks once again and saw her smile in response, obviously enjoying the visible effect she was having on me. She knew what she was doing, that was quite clear.
She watched me intently as her fingers traveled the length of the strand, her hand brushing over my left breast with the move. My breathing halted as my nipple hardened against the fabric of my bra, lavishing in the fleeting contact.
“Is it highlighted?” she asked innocently, moving to repeat the caress with another strand of hair.
“Natural,” I breathed.
The ache between my legs returned tenfold, my breasts tingling in desperate anticipation of her next stroke...
“You’re much more beautiful than your father ... sorry, stepfather ... gives you credit for.”
I reacted as though slapped, her words sending ice through my veins as the reminder of who she was and the man she was marrying hit home. Stepping back to break the contact, I folded my arms across my chest and dropped my gaze.
“I’m sorry—” she began.
“I’ll just get those drinks,” I bit out, taking a wide berth around her and heading to the office fridge.
It was no surprise that Dad had spoken critically of me, that hadn’t bothered me in the slightest. No, it was fear of what that man would do if he discovered this attraction between us. Thank God, my next shrink appointment was scheduled for tomorrow; hopefully he would help me make sense of my crazy thoughts and raging hormones. I just needed to get through today first.
Chapter Two
Two hours later, we came thundering through the stables, the horses’ hooves pounding the ground at a speed to match my elevated heart rate.
She was an accomplished rider, successfully beating me back to the stables. As my horse rounded up behind her, she swung her leg over Storm, the gray Arabian horse she had taken to riding, and dismounted. She paused to give him an affectionate pat before leading him to the water trough. I followed her lead, my eyes not once leaving her captivating figure.
“Sorry to have kept you from your plans. I hadn’t realized how late it was,” she said, glancing up at me as I joined her; she looked more beautiful than ever. Her cheeks flushed from the exertion, her eyes glittering brightly. “I had such a great time.”
“Me too,” I said easily. And I had. More fun than I’d had in ages. She was a breath of fresh air in an otherwise glamorous yet downright boring existence. Added to that, the sexual awareness she evoked in me was like a drug that I couldn’t get enough of. Her carefree manner with the horses, her knowledge of the animal, her willingness to get down and dirty, all served to intensify her appeal.
“Can we ride again soon?” she asked, eagerly.
“Sure.”
Our gazes locked, the unspoken chemistry passing between us once again, her eyes scanned my face and tentatively she moved toward me. My hands itched to reach for her but then she froze, her eyes flicking away to focus behind me.
“Darling,” she called, her English accent perfectly apparent once again.
