Page 194 of Things Left Unsaid

I release a soft moan, unable to believe this is happening and how good it feels.

How right.

Then,fuck, both our phones issue an alert about my blood sugar.

Talk about the worst timing ever.

I shouldn’t let him take responsibility, but I watch as he jumps into action—his phone’s out, the reading comes next, and he clucks his tongue at Jasmine to bring her nearer.

The next thing I know, I’m shifting in the saddle and removing my feet from the stirrups as I turn to face him better while he hand-feeds me gummy bears from Jas’s saddle bag.

I didn’t want that to interrupt us, but being cared for by him keeps my arousal buzzing in the background. Enough that I don’t argue when he hands me a granola bar and a bottle of water a short while later.

When he’s happy with my blood sugar, he repacks the saddle bag and I pounce.

The moment our mouths collide, he hums—he’s not turned off by the alert. “You taste like honey,” he teases, his tongue exploring me like he’s trying to get his own sugar high.

I’m more than willing to be his sweet treat.

I relax more, letting him control the pace because, God help me, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

His soft, teasing nips have me parting my lips and his tongue slides home.

As we connect, both of us groan. I cup his face too, holding him in place now, not letting him go. Not allowing him to leave me.

I don’t think I could bear it if he did.

Everything in me feels both tight and hot as if this coiled spring has been charging for as long as I’ve known him.

He’s right—he could never have seen me the way that I did him because I was a child and he wasn’t a monster.

But I’m not a child anymore.

And the ten years’ distance, the ten years of separation, if nothing else, has given him a glimpse of that—I’m a woman.

Someone he missed.

Someone he wants.

Someone he loves.

I grab his belt buckle and drag him toward me as he thrusts his tongue against mine, sending sensation charging through my veins. Then, I shriek when his hands somehow find my hips and he hoists me from Jas’s saddle and onto Fen’s back.

It’s such a seamless move that I’m almost jealous at how easy that was for him, assuming there was practice?—

“I used to bring Callan onto the saddle with me when he was younger and got scared,” he rumbles. The words make the sensitive skin of my lips feel like they’re vibrating. “Retract your claws, little cat.”

That’s when I realize I was digging my nails into his nape.

Rather than argue with him about being jealous, I slot my legs around his waist, moaning when I feel the pressure of his dick at the crotch of my jeans.

As he holds me close, his hands slide down to my ass, and that’s when he gently nudges Fen with his knees.

A keening whine escapes me as the horse’s gait has his hardness thrusting over my sensitive core.

It feels too good.

So raw and real and natural.

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