Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
And I’m not the only one who notices.
Huck is mooning at her from the entrance to the barn, breathing far too quickly for my liking. A few members of the security team are in the same predicament as me, trying mightily to focus on their job, but finding it impossible when there’s a young beauty for the ages mimicking a vigorous fuck not twenty yards away, her hips pumping and pumping, her hair coming loose of its braid, strands being carried in the wind around her flushed, exerted face, her enjoyment clear.
It's everything I can do not to press my stiff cock up against the wooden post in front of me and allow it some friction.
Goddamn. She’s magnificent.
And now she’s riding faster, hips bucking, ass slapping up and down on the saddle.
Someone groans nearby, however, and my anger, my possessiveness breaks my trance. Mark my words, this is the final time she rides with other men present.
“Picnic time,” I shout.
seven
. . .
Greta
That was a quick ride.
To be honest, I’m grateful Conrad cut it short, because while it felt great to be out in the open like that, I started to feel less and less secure without him standing by my side.
Don’t get used to him. He’s leaving today.
Trying not to let the disappointment show on my face, I watch Conrad accept the picnic basket from the chauffer and we set off walking, his heat close to my back…and once again, like magic, the panic of being in the outside world dissolves.
He’s the trick. He’s the remedy.
Or maybe there’s something about the way he’s tough with me that makes me think I am tough and I can handle difficult things, like fear. Or bad dreams. I’m not sure what magic he wields, but it’s effective and I’m not confident in my ability to recreate the confidence he gives me once he’s left the employ of the palace.
We continue on over a gentle hill that slopes back down into a smattering of trees, bringing us out of sight from those remaining behind at the ranch. I glance over at Conrad and try not to laugh, but the commander could not look less suited for carrying a frilly picnic basket if he tried.
“What?” he grunts.
“Nothing. You just look like you stole someone’s lunch.”
“Two days ago, that would have been more likely than me going on a picnic.” He continues his wary scan of our surroundings. “Where do you want to do this?”
Why have I been battling a smile around this man all day? He’s still so mean, but he seems strangely inclined to please me now. I don’t understand it at all. Why would he care about our rapport when I’ll be bidding him goodbye in a matter of hours? “There’s a small pond just this way,” I respond, starting to skip ahead, though I slow down and remain within his reaching distance as soon as I hear his growl.
When did that growl become so comforting?
“I don’t like Huck,” he announces out of nowhere.
“Why not?” I exclaim. “He’s never been anything but sweet to me.”
“I’ll bet he has.” I glance back over my shoulder to find the commander glowering at me. “You want a sweet man?”
I swallow hard, facing forward again. “It doesn’t really matter what I want, does it? It’s more important for me to make a good match than have what I want.”
“If given the choice, though, you would marry for love.”
“I’ve never allowed myself to consider a love match. There isn’t much point in getting my hopes up over something that is so unlikely.” I stop at the spot I’d envisioned for the picnic and take the blanket from beneath Conrad’s arm, unfolding and spreading it on the soft, green earth. “What are the odds my soul mate is a prince? Staggeringly low.” I shrug. “Although I guess you never know. Maybe it’ll be love at first sight.”
Why does the commander look like he wants to throw the picnic basket like a shotput into the surrounding trees? “It won’t be,” he bites off.
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“Ohhh,” I draw out, taking a seat on the blanket. “Okay, then.”
He continues to frown at me for almost a full five seconds, before jerking his chin at the spot beside me. “What am I supposed to do here? Sit crisscross applesauce like I’m in kindergarten?”
“Yes. Or you can lie on your side. Like this.” I demonstrate, lying down and turning onto my right side, tucking my stacked hands beneath my cheek.
Conrad makes a muffled sound and sets down the basket, lowering himself to the ground, his gaze traveling over the swell of my hip and down the length of my thigh. With his eyes returning to settle on my face, he stretches out onto his left side, facing me with his head propped on a fist. “How’s this?”