Page 97 of Pulled Away

But that’s not all. On top of all the amazing donations, the event secured me some sponsorships. I know that as the rescue grows, so will the running costs, but it’s a start, and it means everything to me.

I still haven’t used Ryan’s money. It’s safely tucked away in an account until we can agree on what to do with it.

As for me and Ryan, well, he wasn’t lying when he said we’d be taking it slow. A snail could beat him in a one-on-one race at the pace he’s setting.

The first few weeks were one date a week. Then we moved to two dates a week, which eventually became three a week. He’d be the perfect gentleman, walking me to my door and waiting till I locked the door behind me before leaving. Then the physical touches started. His hand against the small of my back when we entered a restaurant, holding my hand when walking me to my door. After that came the kiss on my cheek when saying goodnight.

It’s weird, to say the least. I mean, we’ve lived together. I’ve had him in me, over me, behind me—almost every position you can imagine. His hands and mouth have explored every inch of my body.

I understand now why people got married so quickly back in the day when premarital sex was frowned upon. The sexual tension is a constant simmer that’s slowly driving me insane. The upside, though, is that I’m not the only one that’s suffering. I get perverse satisfaction watching his jaw flex or his hands clench when I accidentally graze his groin with my ass, or his chest or arm with a boob.

It’s as frustrating as hell, but what it’s done though, is give us time to talk. And we have. I thought I knew everything there was to know about Ryan, and I did mostly, but now there’s nothing he holds back from me. Shame, embarrassment, hopes, dreams—he lays everything bare. And I do the same.

I wish I could say every date with him is perfect, but it’s not. Sometimes, we’d be out somewhere, and I’d remember something, or catch a glimpse of a woman with red hair, and all the feelings of anger and betrayal would come barreling back. It’s like a switch would flip in my brain and I’d be right back there, experiencing all those emotions, and I’d be filled with uncertainty over my decision to move forward with Ryan.

He’s so attuned to me, though, that he immediately notices when that happens. He lets me experience those emotions without trying to influence me, waiting for me to show him what I need from him.

I watch the darkened countryside as we drive. “You didn’t say where we’re going.”

He grins. “I didn’t.” He darts a glance at me, not bothering to hide the boyish excitement in his eyes. “It’s a surprise.”

“You know how I feel about surprises.”

“Tough. This is something I have wanted to do since the raffle. Had to wait for it to snow, though.”

Frowning, I look back out the passenger window of his car. If he doesn’t want to tell me, no amount of begging or coaxing on my part will convince him otherwise.

It’s been snowing on and off for the last two weeks, leaving the ground covered in a thick blanket. It’s beautiful and serene, and it won’t be long before the work on the rescue has to stop.

He turns down a dirt road, and I crane my neck, but all I can make out are snow-covered trees.

Finally, he turns into a driveway, pulling to a stop at what looks like a barn. I look around in confusion. It’s nighttime and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Rounding the car, he opens my door.

“Come, you’re going to love this.”

I’m still looking around when the barn door opens, and a woman, who looks to be in her sixties, steps out and greets us. She’s quickly followed by a man, leading a gorgeous black Percheron, pulling an open sleigh.

“You didn’t.” I grin, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

He nods, smiling at me, his eyes shining with emotion that wraps around my heart. “It was a prize in the raffle. I couldn’t enter because I was an organizer, but I’ve been biding my time.”

He knows I’ve always loved horses, but I’ve never had the opportunity to learn to ride. It’s always been a want, not a need, so it was low down on my list of priorities. A, one day, kind of thing.

And okay, I won’t be riding one tonight, but just being out here, being around one, is enough for me.

Ryan has to drag me away from Joe—seriously, who names their horse Joe?—and in no time, we’re bundled under a stack of blankets, clomping down a snow-cleared path winding through the trees.

Small trail lights dot the path, their soft glow not quite reaching the trees, casting the surrounding forest in mystery, while strategically placed lanterns hanging off trees cast intermittent tiny pools of light in the otherwise darkness surrounding us.

It’s so freaking magical, it feels as if I’ve been transported into a fairytale world.

We’re silent as we soak in the tranquility, Ryan’s arm around my shoulders, our bodies pressed together for warmth. It’s the closest we’ve been in months, and the heat of him, the scent of him, catapults me straight back to the time when we were happy.

My hand isn’t tentative as I put it on his leg, sliding it up so that my fingers rest against his groin.

Because tonight is the night he stops courting me and starts fucking me. Enough is enough.

I feel his body tense, and then his breath leaves him on a shaky exhale when I start stroking him over his jeans. I keep my eyes on the surrounding forest as I stroke. Cup. Squeeze. His hand covers mine, guiding me, adding pressure to where he needs it. Biting my lip to hide my smile, my fingers reach up to toy with his zipper, before retreating down to the song of his disappointed grunt.

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