Page 24 of Chasing the Wild
She shifts around to grab the reins in one hand and hold the saddle with another. I’m moving behind her, and all of a sudden, it’s clear this was an insane idea. Her jeans are tight over her ass, those perfect thighs are right in front of me, and our hips are barely a breath apart as she lifts a foot into the stirrup.
I reach down and my bulk covers her back. We’re so close my lips are right at her ear and I feel the way her breath hitches when I clasp my fingers around the top of her boot.
“Go easy on me, ok?” Layla breathes.
I don’t know what comes over me, but as I help swing her up into the saddle, the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I promise, I can be gentle.”
We spendthe day going around the outermost paddocks on the ranch, checking for any needed repairs and storm damage. Layla is more than comfortable on her horse, and that at least settles me a little, knowing she’ll be fine to do more jobs unsupervised, now that I’ve seen she’s competent and can ride in these conditions.
I decide it’s safest to retreat into my shell after giving myself the biggest fucking talking to of my life.
Why I can’t seem to keep it together in her presence is ridiculous.
She’s just a hot little cunt parading around in front of me, that’s all it is.
We finish up the day separately, I leave her to the barn, and I deal with other crap on my list that needs my attention. My evening check-in with the roading crew by radio lets me know the road is cleared nearly halfway up the mountain, and the team should be done all the way to the ranch within the week.
I drag myself through the shower quickly and then throw on a clean pair of jeans and a tee. I’d usually wear a lot less than this, but seeing as I’m battling my self-control with a gorgeous young girl in my house, wearing clothes seems like a prudent decision.
Real fucking mature.
Not like my dick is half-hard the minute I walk into the kitchen, and she flashes a smile at me over her shoulder.
After we’ve both eaten—her on her phone and me keeping my eyes trained on the meal in front of me—she stretches and makes a move to clear both our empty dishes.
“Sit your ass down. I’ve got these.” I reach over to grab hers.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Layla tries to clutch the plate while perched on her stool at the kitchen island. I’ve got a dining table, it just never gets used. This has always been the place I prefer to sit and eat and Layla seems to feel the same way.
“You cooked.”
She lets out a little laugh and finally relents, allowing me to yank the plate away from her. “The things you don’t realize until you see the alternative.”
I’m not sure I know what she means, but I’m not about to ask either.
“I’ll leave you to the horses tomorrow while I head down and sort out that busted fence in the western paddock.” As I rinse the dishes and stack the dishwasher, I’m aware she’s moving around behind me but I focus my eyes firmly on the sink and the current task keeping my hands busy.
“I can handle that.” She sounds tired, and suddenly, I’m a little worried I’ve been pushing her too hard. Kayce tells me all the time I’m a miserable old bastard, which is about right.
“You sure?” I turn around and rest my back against the sink. My eyes fall on her, and oh, fuck I really wish I had stayed exactly as I was. She’s stretching up on tiptoes to reach for a cup from the cupboard, and her cropped sweater has ridden up, showing off the perfect rounded curve of her hips and ass, a strip of soft, pale skin above the waistband, jeans suctioned tight in the exact spot where her pussy is. Her back arches and her long braids hang down, and my filthy fucking brain devours the sight of her.
I’m more screwed than I thought because she turns and looks at me over one shoulder, catching me in the act of openly watching.
“Could you grab one of the tall glasses for me, please?” She twists herself and flattens her back against the counter.
I swallow heavily.
“Of course.” Why is my throat so scratchy?
Crossing to the spot where she stands, I step into her small frame. Layla doesn’t move, and I don’t want her to. I keep my eyes on hers and reach up, which leans my body so close I can smell the jasmine and pear scent of her shampoo. There’s a heat and tension thick in the air between us, and not for the first time today, I’m forgetting the reasons why I shouldn’t be looking at her like this.
My fingers close around the cool, smooth glass, and I pluck it down for her.
“Thanks.” Her voice is barely a whisper and I see her eyes flicker to my lips for just a second.
My dick jerks.
