Taking the Reins(101)

“Even if it costs you business?”

“It won’t,” she said firmly. “I’ve got a failsafe plan.”

“What’s that?”

“You.” She kissed him quick and hard.

He lengthened the kiss, deepened what she tried to keep shallow. “So I’m being used for my skills.”

“Well, I can’t deny you know how to . . . ride.” She emphasized her words with a pulse of her hips up until she brushed against his erection.

He rolled until she was on top of him, straddling him. “I’m a better coach. How about you take a turn in the saddle.”

She reached for the buttons on his jeans, then stopped. One hand pushed her hair back from her face, the other tracing the ridge of her jeans by her knee. “I love you.”

The words, unexpected, sweet and pure, struck him right through the heart. “Thank God.” Flipping them again, he leaned over her on his elbows. “Thank God,” he muttered against her neck, nuzzling until she shifted restlessly. “Thank you, God.” He pressed kisses down her collarbone, pushing aside the collar of her shirt.

“Is that all you can say?”

“What was I supposed to say? Okay!” he shouted on a laugh as she tugged on his hair. “Okay. Uncle.” When she soothed the sting with her nails, scratching at his scalp, he leaned into the touch. “I love you, too. I fought it, and I avoided you like the plague because I knew we’d end up here. Somehow, I knew it’d come to this, and my heart wouldn’t hold out against you.”

“I thought you were just an arrogant, elitist jerk.”

“I might still be.” When her brows dropped, he kissed her nose. “But I’m your arrogant, elitist jerk. Isn’t that so much better?”

She sighed and laughed. “Shockingly, I think it might be.” One finger traced behind his ear, down his neck and toyed with the hollow of his throat. “Got any plans for the rest of the night?”

With one last roll, he positioned her on top once more. “Take the reins, Peyton. We’ve got until morning.”