worships perfection.”
“Then she must love having you for a daughter,” he said, the compliment the most genuine he’d ever given.
Her harsh laugh contradicted him. “That would be a no. I was … am … everything she doesn’t want in a child, especially a girl.”
“What the hell?” What she said couldn’t have startled him more.
She let out a long sigh, and he wondered if she’d talk or clam up. On the one hand, he wanted to know everything about her, which made him almost hope she’d deflect. Insight into what made her tick was dangerous. He was relaxed, mellow, his walls down, and he was enjoying the evening. It had become way too much like a date without the degree of control he needed to keep his distance.
Yet instead of pulling away, he slid his hand beneath her thick hair and cupped her neck. She moaned and leaned into him. His cock hardened at the sound coming from deep in her throat.
She responded to his subtle command, and without warning, she spoke. “She thinks I’m too big, too curvy, not delicate or ladylike enough. She says I should eat less and exercise more.”
“Bullshit.”
She flinched at his harsh expletive.
Too damned bad. He’d like to snap her mother’s probably scrawny neck for putting such ridiculous thoughts in her daughter’s head. And her body image issues and the need for dim lighting made sense from that warped perspective. And it was warped.
Her curves were the first thing Decklan had noticed. Gorgeous face second. Brain third and sweet personality, which he was just coming to know, fourth, but it was quickly becoming his favorite part of her.
Damn. None of this was good. But he couldn’t allow her to let those words remain in her psyche.
“I call bullshit,” he told her more clearly, intending to explain just what he thought when he looked at her.
“That’s nice of you, but I’m not finished. She also believes that I should marry a man of her choosing and stay home and raise his babies, not work.”
Jesus. “That’s a helluva lot of expectation heaped on one person.”
“I’m used to it.”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Because we don’t speak often.” She blew out a long breath and shook her head. “And I have no idea why I dumped all that on you now. That’s not what we’re about.”
“It’s not, huh?”
Her lips turned upward. “No, we’re about sex. And fun. And right now, this ride is fun.”
He didn’t argue.
Silence fell around them, the night sky cloaking them in darkness and the familiar sound of the horse’s hooves clicked against the pavement. Time passed in easy silence. Yes, he was aware of her in a base sexual sense, but something else hit him too. A feeling of rightness, making him uncomfortable. He preferred raw desire to this softness, this warmth. He didn’t know what to do with the unexpected emotions she brought out in him without even trying.
“I’d love to ride a horse one day,” she mused out loud.
A different, more wicked idea took hold. “How about you ride me instead?”
Her eyes opened wide, need reflected in the chocolate orbs. She ran her tongue over her lips, and a jolt of desire licked at him, heightening his need.
“I want that too, but not here.”
He agreed. Exhibitionism had its place. This wasn’t one of them. He’d only meant it as a tease. And it had worked. Her voice dropped, a slight tremor shook her frame, and her nipples puckered through the silk top.
“But I have to admit, sex in a horse-drawn carriage would be scandalous.” She grinned, her smile infectious.
“There are other things we can do though.” She slid her hand over the bulge in his pants, and his cock, already thick and ready, sprung to further life.
He hissed out a long breath. “Fuck.”
“We already decided that wasn’t possible in this carriage, but other things are. The way I see it, the driver’s up there … and there’s a blanket right here.” She pulled it over his lap.