Page 61 of My Dark Horse Prince

“So is that. . .a yes?”

He rolls his eyes. “I like to run as a horse. I definitely like to have you sitting on my back.” His devilish smirk makes my knees a little weak.

“I doubt you have a saddle, seeing as there aren’t any other horses on property that I’ve seen, and Kris took the one we bought back to her place.”

“You don’t need it. I won’t let you fall,” he says. “And you’re right. I don’t spook. Unlike most horses, I’m not prey.”

He’s definitely an apex predator.

“If we’re doing it,” I say, “we’d better get going, or we’ll be late for my pick-up for the pre-op testing.”

Grigoriy hops to his feet so quickly that it makes me a little jealous. I used to be able to do that. I’m sure he takes it for granted, but as I struggle to stand and grab my crutches so I can walk, I can’t help comparing. It sucks being all broken.

By the time we get outside and circle around to the back where hopefully no one will accidentally see us, I’m starting to rethink the whole thing. It would be a terrible shame if I did significant damage somehow. What if the surgery becomes impossible because, after ten years of being smart, I do something stupid? I open my mouth to beg off, but as I lift my eyes, I notice something that squashes every single coherent thought in my head.

Grigoriy’s stripping.

He peels his sweater off first. Then his shirt. I had, in only two days, somehow forgotten how glorious his body is. No one in Latvia really tries very hard. But with those muscular shoulders, massive chest, and clearly defined abdominals, it’s clear that Grigoriy tries very hard.

My mouth goes dry.

When he reaches for the button on his pants, I almost choke. “What are you doing?”

“These clothes are new,” he says. “I don’t want to ruin them.”

I cover my eyes with one hand, balancing on my crutches with pressure from my armpits. “Kris said Aleks lied to her—that you can shift with clothing on.”

Grigoriy’s laugh is low and deep, and it’s slowly moving toward me. “It wasn’t a lie when he said it. You can only shift with clothing intact once you’ve fully mastered your magic, and right now, I’m not the one shifting my form, remember?” He’s right next to me now. I can practically feel the heat rolling off his naked body. “That’s why our people grew accustomed to it—as we learned to master our powers, we couldn’t shift with clothing. Once I regain my magic, I’ll be able to do that, but unless you know how to change me without shredding my clothing, we’re stuck doing it this way.”

Both my hands are trembling now, the one wrapped around the handle of the crutch and the one covering my eyes. I hear the sound of his pants falling to the ground, and my heart hammers even harder inside my chest.

“Did you change your mind?” His voice is soft and close against my ear, and a thrill runs up my entire body, like a shiver and a sugar rush all hitting at once.

But even better.

Is this what desire feels like?

With Danils, my initial delight quickly gave way to pressure and fear. I usually felt trapped. With every other guy I’ve dated, I’ve felt chased, and cornered, and, frankly, unsafe. Why don’t I feel that right now? My leg’s not sound, and a magical naked man’s standing at my side. I should be terrified.

Instead, my hand itches to drop so I can touch his bare chest.

And not only because I want to ride his secret horse.

That sounds. . .not right.

Because I want to ride him?

That might be worse.

“Okay, well.” I lift just my bottom two fingers and peek out, being sure to keep my eyes aimed upward. “What exactly do I do now?”

“First, you have to touch me,” he murmurs.

“Right.” When I uncover my eyes entirely, I can’t seem to help letting them roam over him one more time. He’s magical. He’s well-connected. He’s about to be rich. And he’s powerfully strong and perfectly built. It seems a little unfair, frankly.

Although, I suppose he did just spend a hundred years being tortured in some kind of bizarro time-out.

Maybe life is fair.

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