Page 38 of Dust Storm

I followed Christian to the stables and waited while he saddled Libby.

My body was present with him, but my mind was a thousand miles away.

“You ready?”

Suddenly I was acutely aware of the fact that he expected me to ride that thing again.

“On second thought, I’m just going to go to bed,” I said, turning for the barn entrance.

Christian caught my hand. “Come on, Princess.” He nudged me toward the massive chestnut-colored horse. “Up you go.”

“Christian, I?—”

“Left foot in the stirrup. I’ll give you a boost if you need it.”

“I really don’t?—”

Apparently, his boost was more of a lift than a hand. My boot barely touched the stirrup before my ass was on the front part of the double-seated saddle. Libby shuffled, getting used to my weight, but it scared me to death.

I shrieked, grabbing at whatever I could to keep from falling to my death.

Then Christian was stepping up, slinging his leg around, and sliding into the seat behind me. “Calm down. There’s no need to shout.”

“Easy for you to say! I almost fell off!”

“You didn’t almost fall off,” he said without a care in the world. “I won’t let you fall.” The brim of his hat bumped against the back of my head as he leaned forward. “I’m gonna touch you. Are you okay with that?”

“Only if you help me get down.”

“If you’re gonna be out here, you need to learn. At this hour, no one will be watching you.”

“I have absolutely zero reason to be on top of a horse.”

But Christian ignored my protests. His hands slid down my waist. “Square up your hips,” he said, giving my thighs a squeeze.

Carefully, I shifted, sitting firmly in the middle of the saddle as I ignored those damn butterflies.

A ridge of leather separated him from my ass. At least he had fitted Libby with a saddle meant for two. I didn’t know if I could handle his body wrapping around mine.

His gentle rumble sent shivers up my back. “Take the reins.”

I didn’t realize I had a vise grip on the front of the saddle. Libby shifted between her feet again. I squeaked, white knuckling the front of the saddle.

Christian’s hands on my hips steadied me. “That’s just her way of saying she’s ready to go.”

“Yeah—well—I’m not.”

“Have you been around horses before?”

“Do the horses in Central Park count?”

“No.” He took my hand in his and leaned forward. Christian’s abdomen was warm against my back as he pressed my palm against Libby’s shoulder. “Give her some love. She’ll love you back.”

“I thought I already had her undying love after she nearly ate my hand off when she was going for the peppermint?”

Christian chuckled. “You do.”

His palm stayed pressed against mine as I gingerly stroked her short hair.

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