Page 59 of Burned & Bound

And I didn’t know what to do with it. With the guilt. The shame.

Why the fuck did I even feel this way? I was in over my head. My body wasn’t mine to control, and I hated it.

Kissing Jackson had been one thing but this? I didn’t want this. I wasn’t even sure I wanted that kiss—my brain was all fucked up—but I didn’t want this.

This was normal. It was supposed to be normal.

I tried to push that thought to the front of my mind—to justify that this was okay—but the dark thoughts kept taking over everything. It clawed through my head. The familiar edge of panic dug its way into my chest, and I drew in a sharp breath.

I just wanted it to go away. To not be a thing.

I just wanted to be okay.

CHAPTER 43

west

Now, listen here,” Iwhispered as I stroked Thunder Jack’s soft snout. He pushed further into my hand—something he’d started doing every time I pet him. The frequency was incredible.

I wasn’t sure what fucking possessed me to do it, but I saddled him up. It took me a good three hours to walk him through the process, but he let me do it.Did I need to take that long?Probably not. But I wanted to make him feel comfortable after everything he’d been through. After what he’d been put through. He deserved that at least.

He let me brush him head to toe without flinching or wandering away. If he had, I would’ve quit. Instead, he stayed put and relaxed. I expected him to bolt when I laid the saddle blanket over his back. I wouldn’t have fucking blamed him, all things considered. But he trusted me and remained in his spot, his head turned and tracking me.

And when I fitted him with a saddle? Not a damn thing. I was impressed.

The last big test would be if he threw me or not if I got on.When.When I got on.

“Now, look,” I said as I continued to give him some much-needed attention. “I’m going to need you to work with me here. I like my dick where it is, and I want to keep it that way, got it?”

I waited like he actually gave a fuck about what I said. Did I expect him to respond? Who knew? I just hoped to fuck he didn’t fucking throw me.

“Don’t throw me,” I reiterated one more time before rounding his left side. Grabbing the pommel and stepping into the stirrup, I pulled myself up on his back and settled in the saddle.

I tensed, every muscle in my body locking up.

Beneath me, Thunder Jack shifted. The slight movement rolled through my body, and my instincts told me to jump off while I still fucking could. I fought the urge to do just that.

I had to give him the chance.

“You’re doing good,” I praised as I rubbed a hand along the side of his neck. “You’re doing real good, boy.”

He relaxed slightly, and I felt the smallest of smiles tug at the corner of my lips.

“This ain’t so bad, is it?” I continued, practically speaking for both of us. There were no words to describe what it felt like to be back in the saddle. Seventeen years and it still felt like home. Any worry I had about tearing out a barbell seemed to vanish as I got comfortable. “Should we try to move a bit?”

He let out a quiet neigh, tossing his head and stomping in place.

Keeping my movements gentle, I nudged him forward, but he didn’t move.

“Not yet?” I asked. I offered another long rub along the side of his neck. “It’s all good. We have all day.”

And so we stayed like that: me rubbing his neck and him in full control of whatever the hell we were going to do. Throw me? Run for it? Sit there all day? It was a fucking crapshoot.Oddly, I didn’t mind.

Who knew how long it took—I wasn’t counting—but when Thunder Jack took his first step forward, my heart lurched into my throat.

“That’s it,” I whispered and gripped the reins tighter. “Good boy. You’ve got this.”

His first steps were unsteady as if he wasn’t too sure about me being on his back. I didn’t blame him after everything he’d been put through.

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