17. The Ride

Theodore pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion, revealing his perfectly toned body. Water droplets slowly trail down his chest and collarbone, going lower and lower until they disappear into his trousers. I am drawn to each controlled and confident move he makes, wondering if he knows the effect he has on me. He probably does.

He's no longer the tall, restless boy I once knew. His body has evolved with time and hardened by discipline. I can't stop looking. My mouth is dry.

“Nova?”

“Hmm? Sorry, what was that?,” I sputter, realizing that I've been staring.

“I asked if you're ready to ride.”

“Yes, I am,” I say and turn away quickly but not before catching the slow curve of his lips.

Fuck.

He gets on the horse in one smooth motion, brushing bodies with me. His hands stretch under mine and I stiffen up, wondering where this is going, but I am left feeling silly when he reaches for the reins instead.

He clicks and the horse starts moving down the trail, behind Emile and Ethan's.

It feels like rhythmic bouncing, almost like I'm falling with each step. The movements are pronounced and I can feel my muscles working to maintain balance and posture.

It's wobbly at first, each step rocks me forward then back into him. I try to stay upright and maintain some space between us but every shift brings me closer.

I am acutely aware of my surroundings. I can feel the muscles of the horse, smell it, feel the wind in my ear. But all I can focus on is the heat radiating off him and onto me, his skin against my back, the sound of his breathing behind me.

“Relax,” he murmurs with a low voice. It runs down my spine like a command.

Soon, I'm fully leaning into him, allowing myself to sway with the movements of the horse underneath me. Everytime I sway back, I feel him there. Solid and unyielding.

Theodore leans into the side of my neck and whispers “Good girl,” as he pats the horse but the warmth of his words on my neck makes my breath catch.

I tell myself he's talking to the horse, but when he repeats it, this time closer to my ear, I know he's doing it on purpose.

My neck is my weak spot, a fact I'm hyper aware of right now that I'm helplessly leaning into him and he has access to the back of my neck.

A fact he knows all too well from our past.

His hands relax off the reins and drop lower, firmly holding on to my thighs and steadying me when the horse jolts. Then he starts to draw circles on my inner thing with his fingers, almost caressing.

I bite my lips in an effort to control myself but my body betrays me. My pulse quickens and I can't stop the breathy sounds that escape me.

I can't meet his eyes, I can't even find my voice. The world reduces to just this moment. The horse beneath us, his body against mine, and my trembling hand on the saddle.

He leans dangerously close. “You remember this, don't you?”

The baritone voice from my dream whispering into my sensitive ears is too much to ignore and a moan escapes from my lips. I can't hold back anymore.

All thoughts of a plan and the past vanish completely from their place at the back of my mind. At this point, I can't think of one reason good enough to deny myself this pleasure.

Slowly, I lean fully into him, letting myself relax completely.

“Well done,” he whispers breathily in my ear. This time he doesn't even bother pretending to talk to the horse.

“You always listened better when you stopped pretending you don't want to.”

Then the moment is broken.

The horse slows down and his body that was pressed against mine pulls back.

When I open my eyes I see that we are back at the stables. I missed the scenic trail entirely.

Emile and Ethan come running, their eyes bright with curiosity.

“Did you enjoy the ride, Miss Nova?”

“Of course I did. It was lovely,” I reply, forcing a smile as I catch my breath. Theodore gets off behind me and stands beside the saddles. I can feel his gaze but I refuse to meet his eyes, choosing to try my luck at dismounting myself.

I can't trust myself to make physical contact with him right now.

I swing one leg over the side to dismount but the horse shifts beneath me and I lose my footing, fallling into the arms of the very person I was about to run away from.

“Careful,” he says quietly as he holds me in a strong grip. We share a look that is packed with meaning. But I choose to ignore the implications.

I quickly slide out of his arms and stride to the stables, trying to hide the extent of my embarrassment.

“What the fuck was that?!” I mutter to myself in the safety of a changing stall.

I am here to find damaging information on his company. That's the plan. That's the reason.

But even as I walk out of the stables, my soaked panties tell a different story. Whatever control I thought I had is slipping.