Page 51 of Reckless Desires

We see and hear two men on horseback charging at us. And something is shouted out about being dead. The three of us bolt.

“We need to split up,” JoJo says.

“I don’t know where I’m going!” I shout.

“We will find each other once we lose these guys.” JoJo is trying to breathe as we run. “You both go.” He pulls out a gun. “I got it from here.”

Izzy steers to the left and I go right. I’m not scared about being chased, but I am scared I’ll get lost and never see my family again. I run as fast as I can, but the horses behind me seem to get louder. I hear the water in the distance and go in its direction. When I reach the river, I try to find a hiding spot, but when I hear someone approaching, I jump into the river without thinking.

“Liliana!” I hear my name called out.

A man comes into view as I try to stay afloat with only half my head out of the water. When he comes into view, I see it’s Killian. He flashes a light and sees me. I swim back toward the edge. I’m barely out of the water before Killian is knee-deep, dragging me out.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lily

“Are you fucking crazy!?” he snaps.

I’m shivering as the wet hoodie weighs me down. I say nothing. He pulls out the metal chain leash that sparkles in the moonlight and attaches it to the collar around my neck.

“Looks like I’ll need to keep you on this.” He tugs on it. “What if you drowned in there?” he goes on. “Instead of taking a flight back home, your family would have to come collect your body.”

Did he say a flight back home? “I’m going home?”

“Not yet!” he sneers. “Alessio still needs to hold his end of the bargain. Until then, you’re stuck with me. Now get on the horse.”

Killian mounts the horse, but my legs are sore from running, and my cramping is making it difficult to move, so I can’t get myself up. He reaches down and lifts me onto the horse, setting me in front of him and kicks the horse to move.

Then I’m reminded of the other night and our last horse ride together. Despite my shivers, my body is getting hot.

“Stop moving,” Killian commands.

“My legs are sore. It’s uncomfortable,” I spit back.

The leather of the saddle creaks beneath me as Killian's arm wraps around my waist, his grip firm like he thinks I might bolt. His body presses against my back, radiating heat through my thin hoodie. The rhythmic sway of the horse beneath us already has my mind drifting to places it shouldn't, but now that we're heading home, I don't bother fighting it.

I peel his arm from my waist, but his hand doesn't leave me. Instead, it settles on my thigh, fingers splayed against the stretchy fabric of my leggings. Each step the horse takes rocks us together, creating a friction that sends little sparks through my core. The motion is hypnotic, dangerous.

Taking a breath, I place my hand over his and guide it higher, toward the junction of my thighs. Killian doesn't resist. His fingers tighten for a moment before relaxing, then begin a slow, deliberate massage of my inner thigh. The pressure sends waves of heat straight to my pussy, and I feel his cock stirring against my lower back, growing harder with each passing second.

The horse's pace creates a maddening rhythm, every upward thrust grinding his erection against me. The ache between my legs builds from a dull throb to something insistent, demanding. I lean my head back against his shoulder, surrendering to the sensation. His fingers tease, tracing patterns on my inner thigh but never quite reaching where I need them most.

"Please," I whisper, the word barely audible over the horse's hooves. "Our little secret."

Killian's breath catches. His hand finally moves, those thick fingers pressing against my clit through the soaked fabric of my leggings. The friction is delicious but insufficient—a tease that leaves me wanting more. With practiced movements, he loops the reins around the saddle horn twice, freeing his other hand to slide beneath my hoodie.

His fingers bypass the sports bra, cupping my breast. The rough pad of his thumb circles my nipple, sending jolts straight to my clit. I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper. Taking his other hand, I guide it under the waistband of my leggings, not stopping until his finger makes contact with my swollen, bare clit.

"No underwear," he breathes against my ear, his voice rough. "Naughty girl."

His hands work me in circles—one thumb torturing my nipple, the other rubbing circles around my clit. The dual stimulation makes me dizzy, my hips rocking in time with the horse's movement. I'm so close already, embarrassingly close.

"Please," I whimper, the sound desperate.

"Please what?" His fingers tease my slick folds, deliberately avoiding direct pressure. "Use your words."

"Please touch me."