Page 11 of Taming Mika

“If that’s what you want, it can be arranged,” I assure her softly.

“You wouldn’t,” she says calmly, her voice impressively convincing, though I detect the first flicker of fear behind her eyes.

“I’ve killed men for less. Try me and find out,” I challenge softly, leaning another inch closer.

Her eyes dart down to my lips—a swift movement so subtle Ialmost miss it. But I see the way her pulse flutters in the vein along her throat, and her tongue sweeps out to wet her lips. Deeply ingrained, primal signals, silent invitations her body’s giving me without meaning to—because she won’t say it out loud.

“Mr. Bonetti—” she murmurs, her voice hoarse with indecision. The heat in her eyes turns molten as her resistance softens into something more instinctive, driven by the desire that she doesn’t want to admit she feels.

A smug smile curls the corners of my mouth. I pause for the briefest of moments, savoring her silent surrender.

She releases a soft, sultry moan.

Then, her body tenses. Her lips freeze.

Her hand trapped between our chests flexes, her fingers splaying. And she shoves me back with impressive force as she breaks our kiss with a gasp. I allow it, taking a half step back, though every fiber of my being demands more. I want to fuck her, to possess her, toownher. I want to devour every inch. And I know now that she wants it, too.

My pulse spikes when I find her eyes bright with arousal, her cheeks flushed, her lips wet and ready. She’s a vision with her golden curls spilling chaotically from her bun, and it gives me the most tempting glimpse of what she might look like after a night of pleasure.

Mika’s breaths come in sharp gasps as she narrows her eyes at me with renewed fury. “I willnotbe anyone’s mistress,” she hisses. “Not even yours.”

Then, drawing herself up to her full height, Mika squares her shoulders and stalks past me without another word. I watch her go, my feet glued to the stall floor as I suck in a long breath. And now I know one thing for certain.

One way or another, Mika Harper will be mine.

7

MIKA

I’m halfway across the property before I slow down enough to realize I left Fate with someone who has minimal horse knowledge—if any. Hopefully, Alfie had enough common sense to close her stall door when he left, because I’m not going back to check.

I can’t risk running into him again.

I’ve never been so desperate to leave a situation in my life. And now I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.Quit?Hell, I might already be fired, and I just didn’t stick around long enough to find out.

But surprisingly, that’s not what bothers me most.

What does is that I can no longer say I don’t want Alfie Bonetti to kiss me.

Gravel crunches under my barn boots, and the mature cottonwood trees lining the road create a soothing canopy. I keep my eyes fixed on the dirt road leading to the workers’ accommodations, a small collection of ranch-style homes near the north edge of the estate—nearly a mile from the main house, with the stables in between.

I can feel my breathing and pulse calming as I follow the road to my safe space. And still, I’ve never been more confused. My chestaches with a tangle of conflicting emotions as I try to process what just happened. I’m not at all okay with any of it.

My physical reaction to Alfie’s touch was completely unexpected. I sincerely didnotwant the attention. I still don’t. Because I meant it when I said I won’t be someone’s mistress. It goes against everything I believe in.

I can’t fathom how he could behave so shamelessly about the suggestion, when he supposedly cares enough about another woman that he’s asked her to marry him. And yet, he flirts with me as if there were no one else in the world he’d rather be with.

And I couldn’t help but want it.

Something about his easy confidence and casual charm is dangerously attractive. And on top of his model-worthy looks, there’s a strange chemistry between us that creates a magnetic pull every time he steps too close. I felt it as soon as we entered my office—a tingling energy that only intensified the nearer he got.

Clearly, he has no problem entering my personal space. That’s a common theme in the horse world—men who don’t take no for an answer, who expect to get what they want without having to face consequences. It’s what happens when rich, powerful men learn they can have whatever they demand because no one ever tells them no, and stands their ground.

As a young woman, before I learned better, I found it thrilling—when important men showed interest in me, called me beautiful, asked me out to dinner, and made me feel special. More than once, men have flattered and charmed me into thinking they were good people with a genuine interest in me, who I am, and what I thought. Only to find out that they were less than honest—that they had one thing on their minds, and once they got it, they were on the next plane to the Bahamas with their wife and kids—crushed me.

No doubt Alfie is just like the rest of them. Only he doesn’t even have the humility to feel bad about it. At least the other assholes who wanted to get inside my pants—and the few who actually succeeded—had the decency to try and hide their indiscretion. At least theyrecognized that I have enough self-respect to want more than to serve as someone’s side piece.

Over the years, I’ve learned it’s best to just keep my distance. A cold demeanor sends a clear message that I’m not interested. I don’t want a casual roll in the hay, which is apparently all I’m good for in this world. I would much prefer to live alone and form meaningful relationships with my animals than to let another entitled asshole use me for his own satisfaction.

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