“Just like I was doing.” She steps back and briefly lowers her gaze. My dick is hard, and I’m about to brush a fucking beast that could stomp me to death. What the fuck am I doing? “You’re doing great,” she murmurs, and I want to hear her praise again.
She walks around the horse and stands on the other side, watching me while absently running her hand over the horse.
“What made you decide to get a horse?” she inquires.
Shit, small talk again. I thought about how I was going to do this last night before I called her. I’m supposed to let her get to know me, go slow, but I’ve never been one to stick to plans. “You.”
“Huh?” She tilts her head to the side like I’m speaking Greek.
“You did. When you posted the flyer. I could tell if I just asked you out, you would have said no.” I keep brushing the horse. It’s not so bad. It’s kinda soft, and it takes my mind off pinning her to the floor and using my palm to cover her shouts as I bury myself deep inside her.
She quiets, and I look up at her, ready to give chase if she tries to run away. My heart starts beating a little faster at the thought, which is a marvel. Not much can get me overly excited anymore, yet it seems to happen a lot around her. The pink tinge is back in her cheeks, but it’s not as bright.
“So does the effort earn me a date? I’m willing to go all the way,” I offer, and when her cheeks burn red, I know her first thought isn’t about me finishing my riding lesson with the horse, but going all the way with her. My slip of the tongue wasn’t even intentional. Winger would probably tell me how it was some Freudian bullshit, but I like knowing she’s thinking about me. Fuck that—I love knowing she’s thinking about us. It makes me wonder if her pussy is all slippery for me.
She blinks several times, then the corner of her mouth falls into a slight frown. “So you’re not thinking about boarding a horse here?”
“If it means you’ll say yes, I’ll board two, whatever the hell that is.” I know women think I’m charming—rather, they convince themselves I’m being charming when they want to pretend my bluntness isn’t just me being a brash asshole.
“You’re not going to board a horse here just so I’ll go on a date with you,” she scoffs disbelievingly.
“You want three? Five?” I keep going until her little smile is back.
“No, stop.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t let you do that.” My brows lift at the ‘let me’ part, but I don’t voice my thoughts about her statement. My goal is not to scare her—well, I don’t think it is anyway. I do really like it when her eyes get all wide and frightened though.
“You’re the only person who’s called,” she admits and takes the brush from my fingers to resume stroking the horse’s side. The exchange is effortless. She touched my hand as if I’m not a stranger, which is out of character for her. Well, at least it was unusual for her at the strip club. She shied away from everyone, even Winger. Thank fuck, I wouldn’t want to have to kill my only friend. I did think about it once when I found out he was eating the shit she baked, but he hands it all over to me now, or used to anyway. I actually miss not getting bread and cookies once or twice a week. I didn’t realize how much I looked forward to it.
“Maybe I should advertise at the school,” she muses under her breath as if she’s thinking out loud. She still hasn’t told me if she’ll willingly go out with me. She finally turns to look at me as if she just remembered I’m still here.
Rafe is watchingme as if he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking, or maybe he’s just looking at me like I’m a little off my rocker because I’ve been talking to myself for the past two minutes.
I take a step back and set the brush down. With the false pretenses gone, there’s no need to keep going through the motions. He already told me why he’s really here. Mom will get a kick out of being right. I’m not quite sure how to handle him now though. Do I accept his offer? He’s certainly good-looking, if not a little old for me.
“I just turned eighteen,” I tell him, and he gives me a half-smile. I realize now it sounds like I was advertising myself as legal, when I was really warning him I’m a lot younger than he is. Maybe even by ten years. I don’t know how to backtrack and explain why I blurted that out without sounding foolish, so I don’t say anything. The truth is a lot of guys my own age probably wouldn’t want much to do with me. I have a lot of commitments. Going out and partying on the weekends probably would have never been my thing, and it certainly isn’t now.
“I wasn’t worried about your age.” The way he watches me makes me feel like he’s seeing much more than I’m aware of.
“What if I was only seventeen?” I narrow my eyes a bit.
He only shrugs. “You’re not.”
“How old are you?” I sound suspicious, even to my own ears. I’m expecting him to avoid the question or outright lie.
“Twenty-nine.” He places his palms behind him against one of the hitching posts in the arena and leans back a little. It makes me take notice of his body, not that I hadn’t already, but this is almost like he’s putting himself on display. “Does that bother you?” His tone sounds like he doesn’t care either way, yet the fact that he’s asking makes me think he does. He’s such a contradiction.
“Should it?” I counter instead of answering.
“Definitely not.” This comes out smokier, and even his eyelids lower a little, making him look sexy, like he’s giving me the smolder. I didn’t even realize that was a real thing until he just hit me with it.
“So, is this stalking thing your usual pickup technique?” I tease, trying to be a little flirty, but his expression shifts, and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to defend himself. “I’m joking,” I add quickly.
The half grin returns, and it makes him look so much more approachable. “No, I can promise the stalking is reserved only for you.”
I smile at him, feeling flattered than this man seems to want my attention enough to fake wanting riding lessons to get it. “If you’re planning on taking me back to The After Party, I have to tell you that’s not really my scene.”
Rafe pushes off the post and moves a little closer to me. “I haven’t really thought about what to do with you yet, but the club isn’t it.” He’s looking down at me, searching my face. “I didn’t think it would be this easy.”
I take a step back, not liking the way his words make me feel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
