Page 71 of Unsuitable

I bite my lip. “I don’t know how to get down.”

Still smiling, he walks over to me. “Take your feet out of the stirrups.”

My right foot slides out fine, but my left foot is a little stuck. I give it a wiggle, but it doesn’t come free.

“Here.” Kas takes ahold of my leg and pulls the stirrup from my foot.

There’s a layer of rubber and cloth between his hand and my leg, but I still feel his touch, like it’s on my bare skin.

I start to flush hot.

“Hold on to the saddle, and slide your right leg over.”

His hand leaves my foot. I look at him, unsure.

“I’ll catch you,” he tells me softly.

Hands gripping the top of the saddle, I slightly lean forward and bring my right leg back over Butterscotch, taking care not to kick her in the rear.

I feel Kas’s hands come around my waist, guiding my feet down to the ground.

“Thank you,” I whisper. A whisper is all I can manage at the feel of his hands on me.

He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move his hands away either.

I feel him move closer. His chest brushes my back.

My heart takes off in a race against my pulse.

I can feel his soft breath blowing on my neck.

Involuntarily, I lean back into his touch, pressing my back to his chest. His grip tightens on my waist. And I shiver.

I want to kiss him.

I might not like him so much, but God, my body does right now, and my body is seemingly in charge.

I know that, if I turn around right now, I will kiss him.

Or he’ll kiss me.

I won’t be able to take back what happens.

But I’m not sure that I really care at this moment in time.

His hands on me, the feel of him against my back, just feels too good.

He feels like nothing I’ve ever had before and everything I didn’t even know I wanted.

“Daisy,” he softly says my name, sounding like a plea on his lips.

It’s a plea I can’t ignore.

I turn slowly. His hands stay on me—one moving over my back, the other grazing over my stomach, both coming to rest on my waist.

My whole body is awake.

Like I’ve been in a deep sleep, and he’s just touched me to life.