Page 12 of Wild Horses

Her voice is soft and sympathetic. “I’m not suggesting you don’t explore your options, but those pursuits are better left outside my office.”

“I hear you, Doc. No more eye-banging the other patients.” I hope the bravado and humor I inject into my words can conceal the disappointment curling through me. Disappointment with myself, and even sharper, disappointment at the idea of not seeing War again.

Dr. Panter studies me. “You’re a smart woman. Sharp. Driven. You’ll figure out what you want. If you decide a different time might fit better, stop by the desk before you leave. I’ll make sure it happens.”

“Thank you.” I mean it as I say it. She’s right, after all. I need to re-prioritize. I can’t let a pretty face derail my dreams.

Five minutes into my soak in the hot tub, the door opens. Lifting my head from the ledge, I see the person I most andleast want to. My conversation with Dr. Panter rings in my ears, warning me why I have to get this man out of my head. And along with it, my friendly devils pointing out that now I can move ahead with a roll in the hay. Release my desire and distraction by getting under—or on top of—him. After, I can start fresh in a new time slot and pour my energy into meeting and surpassing my goals.

War cuts an impressive figure, his bright blue swim trunks setting off his golden skin. The water rises as he sinks into the hot tub, his arm casually settling behind me. Like a magpie, my eyes are drawn to the expensive watch still on his wrist.Must be water resistant.I wonder if he ever takes it off… The image of War’s fingers inside me, the glint of the rose gold cage of his watch glittering between my legs, sends a charge straight to my pussy.

“We have to stop meeting like this. At least you weren’t underwater this time.”

Shifting and covering my brain-haze with a scoff, I say, “I find it interesting how it’s always you who follows me in here. A lady might think you have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh, no, I’m here for the soothing water, not at all for the beautiful woman.” The fine wrinkles around his eyes deepen as he smiles.

“Do you flirt with all the PT patients?” I keep my tone even, but internally I resemble teen me at my first One Direction concert.

“Nope, just you.” Everything about him softens as he speaks. “I have a confession.” His sexy voice curls around my ears and drips down my spine like honey. I hide a shiver and raise my eyebrows, a silent invitation for him to go on. “I wasn’tjustflirting when I told you I wanted to learn more about you. You’re a puzzle I’m desperate to piece together.”

Warmth floods my cheeks and down my neck and chest. Why isthat so hot? My tongue tangles, and no words come out.

“I-uh-what?” I finally manage.Smooth, Laramie.

War skims a long finger down the exposed portion of my shoulder. “There’s something about you, Trouble.” My skin tingles where he touches me, and I ache to sink my fingers into his hair.

Swallowing, I lick my lips. “Why were you late today?”

As soon as I ask the question, the spell between us breaks. War straightens, and his hand falls away. Clearing his throat, he says, “I had some family business to take care of. My father and I… we’re currently at odds, and since we work together—or did work together…” He trails off before sighing. “It’s complicated.”

Holy shit. I’m a dumbass.“You’re War Phillips, as in Phillips Construction.” The wince he makes has me wishing I could suck those words out of existence. He tenses but doesn’t say anything else. “Your family bought a horse from my dad. Prairie Sky Equine?”

A flicker of recognition sparks in his eyes. “Crown Dominion.”

I nudge him gently, remembering—this time—we both have shoulder injuries. “We just called him Biscuit, but Crown Dominion fits. He’s a gorgeous horse.”

Some of the tension bleeds from his body, and he shifts enough for our knees to touch. I take the initiative and close the small gap between us, twisting so our bodies press together. Without worrying about the consequences or what may happen, I lean forward and brush my lips against his. “Who knew we had a past?”

Warm air spills from his lips, ghosting over mine. “Another layer of the mystery that is Laramie Larson.”

“Not that mysterious. In fact, I’d argue I’m being pretty clear.”

War tangles his fingers in my hair, tilting my head where he wants it. The gap between our mouths shrinks. One more millimeter and I’ll be able to taste him. We move in slow motion; my stomach clenches and quivers, and my heart pounds like a drum. Can he hear it? Our lips meet, a mere buss. I part my lips, ready for more, as the door to the aquatic therapy room swings open, and we both jerk back, putting a berth of space between us.

The clueless PT patient stares at us for an awkward beat before diving into the hydrotherapy pool on the far side of the room. Our eyes meet, and we break into loud laughter.

Once we gather our wits, silence falls over us. I sink into the water, letting my legs drift toward the surface. Nibbling my lips, I say, “Do you—” as War says, “How did?—”

Smiling at him, I wave him on.

“Are you sure?” At my earnest nod, he says, “You grew up around horses; how did you end up riding broncos? Are you an adrenaline junkie?”

“Barrel racing.” At the confusion on his face, I shrug. “The bronco was a one-time thing. I’m a barrel racer. And to your other question, that’s a piece of it, probably. But I’m not a pain slut, and I don’t have a death wish?—”

“Hold on. A pain slut?”

This time, my cheeks burn from embarrassment, and I crane my head, thankful when the other patient continues swimming laps, paying us no attention. I can’t believe I blurted outpain slut. Ducking my head and wiggling my arms in the warm water, I say, “Yeah, you know, the ones who get off on getting hurt. It fills something in them. Let’s them feel something. I’ve seen cowboys cream their jeans when they land face-first in the dirt or take a hoof to the back.”

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