Pudding takes off like she’s in the Derby, and all I can do is thank God that she’d already released the reins and was free from the horse.
“Now you’ve done it,” I snap, huffing. My arms are burning, but my left peck is on fire. “You better hold on.”
It takes a second, but I maneuver her so she's fully side-saddle in front of me. Once she’s steady, I grip her left leg and she whimpers, nails digging into my forearm.
“Oh my God, what are you doing? You’re going to get me killed!”
“I’m trying to keep you very much alive,” I grunt out. “You wanna help me out with that?”
She inhales sharply and nods, wild-eyed. “Yes. Very much, yes.”
Chuckling, I squeeze her thigh and tap it twice. “Swing your leg over.”
“I—I can’t,” she stammers, shaking against me. “I’ll just stay right here.”
“Come on, now.” I soften, but my grip tightens, worried she’ll let herself fall. “You can, baby. Just breathe. Relax for me.”
She shivers—hard—but lets out a slow exhale, her body starting to ease in my hands like she really trusts me. Like the idea too damn much.
“Good girl, darlin’.”
“Don’t say that to me,” she chokes out.
Brows pinched, I murmur, “Darlin’?”
“No—I mean, yeah, that too, but…” She sucks in a breath and whispers, her voice all distant and entranced, “Good girl.”
“Why can’t I call you a good girl when you’re bein’ good for me?” I ask, guiding her leg over as I scoot back, settling her right up behind the pommel. She gasps, going rigid again, and I tap her thigh. “Tell me, baby.”
“Don’t call me that either!” she snaps, but helps me settle her safely where I want her. “And it’s like catnip. I’ll go all feral and start licking you like you’re my own personal cowboy-toy.”
“Think I might like that,” I whisper across her neck, wrapping her hands around the horn. “Hold on tight, yeah?”
“Yes,” she huffs, adjusting her seat. Her ass brushes my cock and I swallow a groan. “I’m not an idiot.”
I glance to the ominous, dark sky like it might spare me. “Never said you were.”
“It was your tone!”
“Christ, woman,” I mutter, adjusting us both so I’m not worried she’s gonna yeet us into a ditch. “Can’t you just say thank you and be quiet for once?”
“Thank you?!” she screeches, whipping around to glare at me. Dusty jolts, snorting, and hops into an irritated side-trot. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing! This is your fault!”
“Easy, boy,” I murmur, tightening the reins as I narrow my eyes at her. “Lower your voice. You’re pissing Dusty off—and that’s damn hard to do.”
The brim of my hat collides with my chest, and I quickly reach up, snatching it from her head and shoving it onto mine.
“Hey,” she murmurs, nose twitching, “I liked wearing that.”
I give her a cocky, lazy grin and waggle my brows. “You know the rule now. Care to earn it back?”
Her eyes slice to my lips and for a second, I think she might say fuck it and kiss me, but a crackle of thunder far off in the distance has her whipping around.
I tighten my hand around the reins in case Dusty spooks, but he doesn't seem to notice, content to munch on grass while slowly moving forward.
“Another storm?”
“We’ve got time,” I say softly, eyeing the sky. We’re about a half a mile out, but the storm is farther. “Probably an hourbefore it’s over us. That’s how it is here. We get storms often in Spring. Big ones, small showers, flash storms that’ll pop up out of nowhere and flood us in the blink of an eye.”
