Taking the Reins(72)
He stared at the strip, holding it up so they all fell out of their folded position. “You know I can only wear one of these at a time, right?”
“Shut up. They wouldn’t come apart, so you get to try.”
He used his teeth to open one packet without even removing it from the rest of the strip and rolled it on. Then he dragged her back into position under him and entered her with one smooth glide.
They both sighed with relief, though Peyton’s heart was doing a jittery dance of its own thanks to her world-record-setting sprint around the house.
“Let’s try this a little differently.” Before she could ask what that meant, he rolled so she was on top. “Private riding lesson.”
She cocked a brow at him, though he likely couldn’t see it. “Private lesson, huh?”
“Yup. We’ll concentrate on your . . . form.” He slid rein-roughened hands up from her ass to her breasts, molding over the flesh and back down again.
She rocked back and forth, loving the instant feedback from his body. The breath that hissed between his teeth, the way his abs tightened under her hands, his own hips surging up as if he couldn’t help it.
“My form. Hmm. I’ve always been told I have such good form. You know, from previous . . . instructors.” Was that really her? Flirting like that? Making those not-so-veiled innuendos?
Bea would be so proud.
“Previous instructors, hmm?” His tone thickened. “Gotta tell you, I might have a few tricks up my sleeve you haven’t seen yet.”
“Maybe so.” She was more than willing to let him show her.
And so he did.
With it being Emma’s weekend off, and Trace gone as well, and Bea coming home God knew when, Peyton didn’t feel all that bad about drifting off after Red returned to the bed from cleaning up. Plenty of time to get him out the door before people were up and around in the morning. And it wasn’t as if he had a truck outside that would just scream “booty call, master bedroom.”
“That little bit about instructors,” Red started, hand running from the top of her bottom to her shoulders and back again. “That was a joke, right?”
“Joke. Sure.” She snuggled closer to his heat. He’d stripped her sweatshirt off after the deed was done, saying he wanted skin contact. And now she needed the extra warmth.
“I mean, I know you had some, um, lessons before. And I’ve had my own share of, uh, students . . .”
“Lovers, Red.” Time to put the poor guy out of his misery. She patted his stomach affectionately. “We’ve both had lovers.” Though her last one was, well, a while ago. No need to mention that though.
He sighed with relief. “Yes. Thank you. But I just wanted you to know . . . there’s nobody now. Nobody but you.”
Oh damn. Shit. Damn. Son of a . . . “Red . . .”
He tugged playfully on her hair. “This is the part where you say, ‘There’s nobody else for me either, Red.’ ”
Tread carefully, and watch for road apples. “Red, I’m not . . . I’m not seeing anyone else right now.” He deserved that much, and it was the truth. She wasn’t about to lie on that one. Plus, too easy to verify. “But that doesn’t really matter much, since—”
“It’s enough.”
“Well, it’s not, actually, because this is the last night we’re doing that.”
He smirked. “You said that the last time. You’ve got a strange habit of repeating yourself, Peyton.”
“This time doesn’t count,” she said defensively, sitting up and pulling the sweatshirt down over her knees. “It was an emergency.”
“The baby screaming bit, I’ll buy that. But after?” He shook his head. “Don’t do this.”
“This what?”
“Don’t cheapen this. It happened, we liked it, and I’d like to do it again. I’m guessing you would, too. And we get along.”
“We bicker constantly.”
“Well, yeah, that’s what I mean. You’re not afraid to tell me to go fuck myself, and I’m not afraid to push you right back. It works.”
Peyton sighed and dug her face into her knees. “Your definition of the term ‘get along’ is sick.”
“Couples that never fight are doing something wrong,” he said cheerfully. “Not only are they not growing, but if you ask me, they’re missing out on the best part of fighting.”
“I’m scared to ask, but what would that be?”
Red’s smile turned from simply happy to carnal and a little evil. “The making up, of course.”
And even though they weren’t really fighting, Peyton thought a little making up wouldn’t hurt. Just a little, until she had to roll him out of bed.