Page 79 of A Photo Finish
I move up in the tack, getting off her back, and loosen my elbows, letting my hands float higher up her neck. Her ears flick back in question, so I give her a squeeze with my legs and a firm cluck. She bursts forward almost instantly. And then I smile.
Because I’ve got a racehorse on my hands.
24
Cole
Violet stirs in my arms,rubbing herself against me, and my cock instantly stands at attention. But I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, wanting to stay exactly where I am and savor it for a little but longer.
My mind wanders to the day at the track when I outed myself to her as Golddiger85. I could have said nothing. And she would never have known who I am. Who Iwas.We wouldn’t be here.Together.My rash decision in that moment has completely altered the course of my life, and for once I’m not beating myself up about it.
It’s been several weeks of sleepovers now. We don’t spend any nights apart, and I wouldn’t want to anyway. When Violet’s with me, I know she’s safe, and as much as I hate to admit it, she makes me feel safe too. Someone who knows everything I’ve been hiding for so damn long and still wants me. Someone who just looked at me like,Yeah? And? Who cares?
My leg, my PTSD, my anxiety around horses, she just lets it all be. Like it’s my shit to deal with. Shit she’s happy to put up with for some godforsaken reason. A reason I can’t explain—or maybe I don’t want to.
It’s been bouncing around in my head lately. That four-letter word. I often wondered if I was in love with this beautiful, sweet, funny woman who kept talking to me for an entire year. Like I had something to offer her—like she enjoyed my company. But now, spending almost every night with her, inside of her, it’s a thought I can’t shake.
I’m definitely in love with Violet Eaton.
The problem is, admitting I’m in love with Violet means my carefully plotted-out existence is about to topple. I’ve spent so many years feeling undeserving of love, hiding myself from the mere possibility of it, that it feels bizarre to think that I might have found it now. With Violet, no less.
My hips push toward her ass of their own volition. I can’t get enough. I feel like I’m in my twenties again with her around. Insatiable.
“Good morning.” Her voice is warm and dopey as she pushes herself back at me, always equally eager.Because sheisin her twenties.I always feel weird about our age difference, a feeling that Violet doesn’t share at all. Mostly she looks at me like I hung the moon. A look that makes my heart constrict, even if it makes me feel uncomfortable. I’ve spent so long hiding from view. Having someone admire me as openly as Violet does is a little unnerving.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I murmur as I drag my teeth up the side of her neck suggestively, watching a slow smile spread across the top side of her face. She’s practically glowing in the golden morning light. She looks like an angel—my angel.
“I’ll play, if you go start the coffee.”
Yes. Now I stock coffee. I don’t know what it is with these women’s reliance on the stuff, but it seems to make Violet happy. And I’m all for that.
I sit up and slide my stump into my new prosthetic, happy to have that custom fit back. And so damn fortunate that I can afford the state-of-the-art one I have. I like that Violet doesn’t jump out of bed to make her own coffee because of my leg. She doesn’t baby me because she knows I’m perfectly capable. I smile over my shoulder at her, watching her stretch out like a cat in a sunbeam, all fucking pleased with herself.
I hum to myself as I jog down the stairs to the kitchen, feeling lighter than I have in years. I press the button on the coffee machine and then slide some sandals on at the front door, heading out to feed Pippy. The other girl in my life.
A chuckle rumbles in my chest when I open the door. She’s waiting at the closest corner of her fence, too long ears pricked in my direction and nostrils vibrating with the shrill hello-whinny she’s known for.
I never would have guessed it, but this little filly makes me smile every day. Another thing that hasn’t happened to me in years. I pull a few flakes of hay off the bale and toss them over the fence for her, something she completely ignores until I’ve given her a few good scratches behind the ear.
“More concerned with lovin’ than eating, huh?”
Her head twists toward me, and I admire how she’s grown into herself. At two, her haunches are still a little higher than her wither, but she’s filled out with muscle and a glowing bronze coat. Between her feeding regimen and Violet’s elbow grease, she doesn’t look like the same ratty filly who showed up at my house a few months ago.
“Guess we’ve both undergone a bit of transformation, haven’t we, pretty girl?”
She snorts and bats her long lashes at me, her eyes like deep, black pools. I swear she gives me a knowing look. Like,Yeah, you fucking idiot. We both needed a fresh start.
I shake my head and stroll back inside, leaving her to eat, but mostly eager to get back to Violet. And when I make it up the stairs to the master bedroom, I go to announce my arrival, “I’m back—” but I stop short when I see Violet kneeling at the end of the bed, golden hair streaming down over her pert breasts, just like that day on the video chat. Except today, she’s giving me that heart-rending, shy but willing look she pulls off so effortlessly.
“Let’s try this again, Butterface.” Her fingers pulse, squeezing at the bedspread beneath her. “But this time, we don’t quit on each other.”
My mouth goes dry instantly. “Violet. We don’t need to do this.”
“No.” She wets her lips. “I need you to do this. Rewrite the memory for me. Don’t leave me this time.”
“I don’t think I could leave you even if I wanted to. I’m so fucking sor—”
“Don’t. Just tell me what to do.”
