Page 2 of Reining Her In

I toss my head in the direction of the open door of the practice arena urging her to move away, and she pats Grand Teton on the neck before turning him firmly. She walks him to a mounting block where one of our grooms is waiting. I watch her mount up then walk outside where she will move into the que to ride her course.

Finally I’m able spin around, anxious to make sure the beauty in the ring is still there. A flash of anger courses through me for letting her out of my sight at all.

My heart sinks when I find the practice ring empty. I swivel my head around, but there’s nothing. Shutting my eyes and clenching my teeth together, I tell myself to let it go. After all it was just a look. One look.

But I know better.

There hasn’t been a woman in my life for a long time. Over ten years now. Truth is, I don’t know if there will ever be a woman in my life again. The last time I had someone in my life, it ended when I saw my then best friend pulling his dick out her. Let’s just say I haven’t been back in the game since.

The worst part of that situation was they’d started up together when I was still in the hospital after my injury. Laying there with my leg in traction, not sure I would walk out of that hospital with my leg at all.

It’s the invisible injuries that are hardest to heal, as I tell all my students now. The rebuilding of trust.

After my injury, there was no question my competition days were over. Warner, the owner of the barn where I rode, offered to make me head trainer and I produced three world champions in the next few years. That’s where I’ve stayed all these years, although now I specialize in re-training and rehabbing riders and horses. But I have a world class staff that work under me producing some of the best amateur and professional riders in the world.

After the incident with my former best friend Travis, I made sure he figured out he was no longer welcome on the team nor in the barn, and Warner backed me up. Travis made his way to another facility about fifty miles north of where I now still train. Our sport is a small world, and I’ve made peace with seeing him, but my trust was shattered that day, and I’ve never had the desire to take that risk again.

It wasn’t even that I cared all that much for the girl, it was the fact that the closest people in your life can make the choice to hurt you in your most vulnerable times.

Besides, this business is just that – business. And I don’t like things messy. Or complicated. I spend eighteen hours a day working, and this is my life. I’m comfortable with the way things are.

A low groan rumbles out of me as I spin on my good leg to start in the direction where my own student headed off. She’s on deck next, and I need to be standing in my usual spot so she can feel my support. Licking my lips and squeezing my eyes shut for a moment to block out the vision of the beauty in the ring, I flip my cane up and around and step forward.

I open my eyes just in time to hear someone cry out just as my cane smacks her in the face.

“Oh, dang it! Holy cow.” A pained voice cuts through me like a diamond blade to my heart. Her hands cover her nose, and she nearly doubles over.

It’s her. The throbbing in my cock returns with a fervor.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” There’s that pain in my chest again, but this time, it fills my entire torso and trickles down to pool in places long forgotten.

When I turned, I flipped my cane up and spun it around. It’s just one of the bad habits I seem to have picked up. Usually it’s just annoying, but this time I whacked her right in the nose with the solid, sterling silver horse’s head that tops the carved walnut stick. “Are you okay?” The words come out in a horrified burst.

There are people milling around outside, going on with their day, while inside me a conflict of epic proportions rages. She’s right here –I can reach out and touch her– but I’ve hurt her, and that thought is twisting inside me, causing my stomach to tighten and lurch.

She’s still holding her nose, and I think if I see a trickle of blood come out I may just die. Whomever she is, I’ve hurt her, and that is unforgivable. No one should hurt her. Ever.

Of all my senses, it’s her scent that brands me first. A near mind-numbing blast of some magical perfume, defying definition, runs through me like an electric current. It’s not just sweet either, more like fresh ginger and lilacs, and my skin ignites with a palpable energy.

“Are you okay?” I repeat because I need to know. The words come out in a husky grunt between the thumping of my heart into the wall of my chest.

When her eyes finally come up, I’m gone. The swirling inside my head is now a tornado inside my body. Her eyes must be spun from turquoise and sapphires, but right now they are filling with unshed tears, and I hate that I’ve caused this.

A high-pitched, unsteady moan comes out of her, and my heart beats so fast I’m about to keel over. The pained sound mixes with a stifled giggle and my eyes pin on her face.

“Travis said this would be a tough event” Her voice hits me in places I didn’t know were still alive, and the sudden urge to pull her against me is almost stronger than I can fight. “You studied at the Tonya Harding School I guess.” She drops her hands from her nose with another musical giggle.

She straightens up, and I lean in, trying to make sure her nose isn’t bleeding or swollen, and she smiles at me.

“Here.” I reach to my back pocket, producing a perfect white square of folded cotton. It’s an old gentleman’s custom, carrying a handkerchief, but one I am happy as fuck I’ve continued even as this century has forgotten some of the subtleties of being a true gentleman.

Suddenly, I process what she just said.

“You train with Travis?” The horror that I may have injured her has now multiplied a hundred fold and a river of fire runs over my skin. “You’re his student?”

“Yes.” She wiggles her nose, pinching it between two fingers before shaking her head and dropping her hand to her side. “I’m new. Sort of. This is my first international level event. I’m not off to a great start.” She brushes both her hands over her chest, and she must be brushing away some invisible dust because she is immaculate. The dark, fitted blazer is cut perfectly around what has to be the world’s most stunning set of tits.

She’s not tall, but not short either. She’s filled out in a way that feels as though her body was created just for my hands to cup and discover. Curves top above her waist like a Hollywood starlet from the golden age. Her hips balance out below with just as much soft wonderment as my mind can take right now.

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