Page 221 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“I can’t ride in a skirt.” She turns around and gives me a little wave over her shoulder. “Suck it, loser.”

She doesn’t make it very far. When I grab her around the waist and spin her around, she lets out a squeal that does Neanderthal things to my body. I shove her away, but not hard enough for her to fall, and regret that I held back when she spins to face me wearing a scowl. “What the hell?”

“Don’t you know you can’t postpone a date with the devil?” I say, showing her my teeth.

I don’t like the way my heart’s knocking against my ribs or how I got a semi back there for the brief moment our bodies connected. This girl is trouble. I should just let her go already so I can get my head back in the game. Fuck it, I think the only reason I ended up drinking so much last night was because of her. To get her out of my fucking head. Didn’t do me any good—the only thing I seemed capable of expending mental energy on was figuring out ways to harass Indi.

“I’ll get a fucking rash if I—” she begins, but cuts off when I swarm past her.

Lavish thought of everything, of course, girls in skirts included. I open one of the lockers inside the stable and pull out a pair of leggings.

Indigo snatches it when I toss it at her and glares at me.

She looks around, her glare slowly fading. “Where’s the?—?”

“Changing room?” I cut in with a smirk. “There isn’t one. But I promise, I won’t look.” I turn around, crossing my arms over my chest, and wait.

Indi makes an angry sound, but sure as shit, there’s the sound of rustling fabric a moment later.

When I look over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of one ass cheek before she sees me looking.

“Briar!”

I chuckle and straighten again. “Hurry up, virgin. There’s a fuck load of shit to see.”

She grumbles something under her breath, and walks down the stalls, touching the noses of the horses who are looking over their doors. She takes her time, and I couldn’t be gladder.

For some reason, my cock decided that glimpse of her ass was good enough to rouse it from sleep. I shift my weight, willing my dick to stop being so full of itself.

The only way I get that right is by forcing the thought of Indi’s smooth skin out of my mind.

Christ. Soon, one of us is going to break. I was convinced it would be her…but I’m starting to think I overestimated my self-control.

Indi

I fidget on my saddle, trying to hook my underwear out of my ass crack.

Leggingssuck. Not only does this pair cling like nobody’s fucking business, but they’re causing serious tension between the two halves of my ass. Peace talks broke down as soon as I hoisted myself onto my gelding’s back, ignoring Briar’s suspiciously gentleman-like stirrup he made with his hands.

Now? A minute into our ride and my ass crack is the fucking Gaza strip.

“Show jumping, right?”

I pluck away my hand out from under my skirt, fully aware that Briar caught me trying to adjust my panties, and tighten my grip on the reins. “Please,” I mutter, too flustered to be snarky.

“Dressage?”

When I look across at him, I can’t help but laugh at the disgusted look on his face. I pat the side of my horse’s neck. “This,” I say. “Just this.”

“Leisure rides?”

I shrug a little and squint into the distance. “They said I was too big to be a jockey.”

This time, Briar lets out a snorting laugh, and looks half-surprised at himself when I glance at him. “You? Really?”

“Turns out they only employ midgets and dwarves,” I say.

I never applied to be a jockey, of course. I like galloping, but for me it’s more about spending time with horses. I’ve always loved them—whipping them into a frenzy just to win a fucking trophy? Hard pass.

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