Page 14 of Wild Horses

“What makes you think I’m controlling?”

“People and horses aren’t all that different.” Her head slants as she continues to scrutinize me. “You learn to read them. The way they carry themselves, the subtle movements and—” She smiles. “Let’s say… quirks that give them away.”

“And what did I give away?” I’m genuinely curious. She’s not wrong. Everything in my life has been so carefully orchestrated since I was born that I cling to the control I do have. Things like my apartment, my car, my clothing. In bed. I’m also controlling at work, double and triple-checking every document that comes across my desk. Holding tight to the company’s social media.

Or at least I did. I guess that’s all gone now.

Laramie’s sweet drawl calls me back. “There’s the way you frown at Dr. Panter when she corrects your form during an exercise. The way your eye is still ticking over my suggestion we go out today.” She grasps my wrist, looking at the watch face. “The way you fiddle with that ridiculously expensive watch as if knowing the time, date, and what’s probably the planet’s current orbital location can give you control.”

Damn, she’s got a read on me. I can’t decide if I like that or find it unnerving. Laramie’s thumb caresses my cheek. “Hey, Pretty Boy, there’s nothing wrong with needing or wanting control.” She leans in so her lips graze mine. “But there’s also nothing wrong with letting go.”

I step closer, touching as much of her as I can without outright groping her in the aquatic therapy room. My mouth chases hers as she takes a half-step.

“So what’s it going to be? In or out?” Her teasing tone and the smirk on her full lips have me in her thrall.

Swallowing, I answer. “In.”All in, Trouble. All in.

I tug at the fitted jeans Laramie coaxed me into at some discount big-box store before climbing into her truck. This is so far out of my comfort zone I may as well be on another planet. She asked me out. She’s driving. She picked my clothes. She paid for them.

Pursing my lips, I mutter, “I look dumb.”

“Stop grumbling! You look sexy.” Her appreciative gaze rakes over me. “I bet I could bounce a dime off your ass. And don’t get me started on your thighs.” She waggles her eyebrows. This woman. She is definitely like no one else I’ve met.

Running my sweaty palms over the denim, I ask, “Where are you taking me that this…” I gesture to the pearl-snap shirt and jeans. “...is an appropriate outfit?”

“Stir-ups.”

My brow crinkles in a silent question.

“A fantastic little dive bar that serves the best steak fingers you’ve ever eaten.”

I snort. “The only steak fingers I’ve ever eaten.”

Laramie glances at me as she pulls off the highway and onto a narrow, two-lane road. “Oh, War, you poor, deprived thing. You’ve really never had a steak finger?”

“Well, we had a cook growing up, and steak fingers weren’t exactly on the menu.”

“That’s a damn shame. I’m happy to help you pop your steak finger cherry.”

“The mouth on you.”

“You don’t know the half of what my mouth can do.” Shewinks before returning her eyes to the road. “Am I too much for you? Because this is who I am. Like it or lump it.”

I itch to lace my fingers in her hair and kiss her until she’s flushed and writhing. The image of Laramie splayed out before me, that sassy mouth commanding me to please her, has me gritting my teeth in a futile attempt at keeping some of my blood above my belt. My voice is rough when I finally answer. “I like it.”

I don’t miss the way she bites her lower lip or squirms in her seat. My chest swells at her reaction to my words. To me. Laramie is a breath of the freshest air I’ve ever inhaled.

“So tell me more about you, War. Besides being a former swimmer who injured himself in the water, what do you do?”

I weigh my words. “I worked for my dad at Phillips Construction, which you already know, but recently, I decided to branch out on my own.” Not a lie… today is recent, and being disowned means I have no choice but to branch out.

“Really? I figure a family business like that, you’d take the reins from your father in a few years.”

“My father and I have different visions, and it was time for me to find where else my strengths lie.”

Her eyes cut to me. “My dad owns a stud farm, sir; I know horseshit.”

A laugh bubbles up from my chest. “Damn, you don’t pull any punches, do you?”

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