Page 60 of Pretty Savage: Defy

The sight stirs something in me. This gentleness he only trusts to show an animal and to me. Every time I think I’ve found the center of him, another part waits to be discovered, and I fall for him all over again.

One step farther into the stable and he hears me, turning so I see his profile. The angle of his nose. The way his hair curls at the nape of his neck.

I walk toward him, stopping a few feet away from the horse.

“I hope this one’s not mine,” I say.

“Why?” Carrson asks with an amused smirk. “You scared?”

I peer up at the beast. “If I have to use a ladder to get on him, probably not a good idea.”

“Come on now,” Carrson says in his soft Southern drawl. “He’s not so bad.” He waves me over with his free hand. “Meet Maximus. He’ll behave.”

“And you?”

“I make no promises.”

Carrson takes the brush and places it in my hand. His fingers close over mine, turning my wrist until the bristles rest flat against Maximus’s side. Then he steps in behind me, one hand guiding mine while the other settles lightly at my hip. The horse’s flank is warm beneath the bristles, solid muscle shifting under short, sleek hair.

“Long strokes. Follow the direction of his coat,” Carrson says near my ear. “Not too fast. Let your hand do less.”

“That’s not usually your advice.”

A low laugh moves through his chest and straight into my spine. “Someone’s feisty this morning.”

He guides my hand down Maximus’s side. I lose track of the motion when Carrson inhales and his chest presses into my back, then eases away, leaving me suspended in the space between breaths.

The horse lowers his head and nickers, content.

“See?” Carrson says. “Maximus likes you.” His mouth finds the soft hollow below my ear. “I like you too.”

The brush stops mid-stroke as I tip my head back and lean into him. My blouse sits low on my shoulders, leaving the skin bare as he trails kisses down my neck.

“Mmm,” I whisper huskily. “The feeling’s mutual.”

I shift my hips back, pressing into the hard length of him that’s been building ever since he stepped behind me. Carrson lets out a groan that vibrates in my ear. Both his hands go to my waist, and he pulls me into him.

“Careful, mouse,” he says. “I may get distracted and forget why I brought you out here.”

“Why did you?” I ask, already breathless from his touch.

“I wanted to take you for a ride.” His teeth graze my ear, drawing a shiver from me.

“A ride?” I ask, giggling.

I yelp when his hand gives a light spank to my ass.

“Horses,” he says, but he’s laughing. “Not me.” Then his mouth is back at my ear as he whispers, “You can ride me later.”

The words send heat rushing through me, all the way to my fingertips. Like I handed him the excuse he’s been waiting for, Carrson’s hand glides down my leg. I’m wearing a skirt with sheer tights. He slips his hand under the hem and moves it between my legs, circling right where I’m already aching for him. My legs go weak, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hot mouth moving down to my shoulder, the way his fingers find a rhythm that makes it hard to stay standing.

Within minutes, my body is vibrating, coiling, begging for release.

“Carrson,” I gasp his name, breathless. “I want to come.”

“Mmm.” Carrson runs his tongue over the lobe of my ear. “I think I can make that hap—”

A voice comes from behind us. “Mr. Ashford?”