Page 71 of Moonlit Thorns

“I’m no expert, but I can hold my own if you put me on a gentle horse.”

I twist the ends of her long hair in my hand then lean in for a kiss. “Let’s finish this and get you saddled up then.”

Mrs. Potter outdid herself. I survey the food spread over the blanket where we stopped to let the horses graze while we eat the picnic I had asked her to prepare under the shade of a tree. I saw the gleam in Mrs. Potter’s eye when I told her what I needed it for, but I ignored it.

She’s about the only person I would tolerate telling me I need to find someone special, and she thinks that Anabelle is going to be it, but that’s not what this is. I might have already crossed some lines with her—fucking her outside of the sex club nights, inviting her into my bed—but there will be no fairy tale happy ever after for us.

“Have you been riding ever since you were a little boy?” Anabelle asks before popping a grape into her mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve always been pretty solitary. I liked riding far from the manor and exploring the grounds when I was younger. Until I was shipped off to boarding school as a teen.”

“Did you spend all of high school there?”

I nod, still chewing some of the bean salad Mrs. Potter packed for us. “In Europe. I hated having to go, having to leave my brothers and my mom to fend for themselves against my father, but at the same time, a part of me was happy to be away from him. I felt guilty about that.”

She takes my hand. “You shouldn’t. You were a child, and I think that’s a normal reaction.”

I tug on the end of her ponytail. “Are you sure you’re only twenty-two? So wise beyond your years.”

She tosses a grape at me, and I duck so it hits the grass behind us. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

My forehead creases. “What does?”

“The difference in our ages.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. It’s just a number. Who cares?”

“Me apparently.” I bring the fork to my mouth and take another bite of the salad.

“What bothers you so much about it?” Her head tilts.

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” My hands pull at a blade of grass.

“Nope.” She pops the P.

“I already have control issues around sex. The fact that I find someone so much younger than I am to be such a turn-on makes me feel a little like a dirty old man. There, happy now?” I arch an eyebrow, trying to whistle the blade of grass.

“Maybe I like dirty old men.” She drops her voice and says it in a way that makes me think she just might.

“Don’t start.” I narrow my eyes.

“What, I’m just saying.” She bats her eyelashes as though she’s so fucking innocent.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, and unless you want to end up over my lap with me smacking your bare ass for all of mother nature to see, you’ll stop.”

She grins then bites a grape. “Maybe that’s exactly what I’m hoping for.”

I shake my head at her, amused. “You’re relentless.”

“Relentless is what you were when you were pounding into me earlier.”

“Jesus Christ. Let’s talk about something else.” I toss the blade of grass and set the salad aside, no longer hungry because right now, it’s taking everything in me not to pounce on her and make her scream my name by way of my cock.

“All right. There is something I want to talk to you about, but I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or that I expect something.”

I nod for her to continue. “Go on.”

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