Leaping Hearts(20)

And ran smack into Devlin.

He was coming out of the room just as she was rounding the corner, and the two collided, bouncing off each other. Tack exploded everywhere. Sputtering in surprise, A.J. grabbed on to the first thing she could to keep from hitting the ground with the bridles and girths. It was Devlin. As soon as she reached for him, she felt the iron strength of his arms come around her and she was pulled against his body.

A.J. gasped and looked straight into his eyes. They were hooded, full of heat. His chest was a solid wall against hers and one of his thighs was between her legs, their hips fusing. She felt a sensual pull toward him that was undeniable. In that instant, all she could think of was kissing him. She didn’t care that there were so many good reasons for her not to do so. She didn’t care that they were in broad daylight. She didn’t care that he was supposed to be her trainer. She didn’t care about anything except the way he made her blood pound and her head spin and her body melt.

Devlin’s mouth hovered deliriously over hers, just inches away. She willed it to get closer and slid her hands across his shoulders to the back of his neck. Digging her hands into his hair, she felt its silky texture and then the solid bone of his skull.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and thrilling.

All she could do was nod, even though it was a lie. She felt a lot of things but okay wasn’t one of them.

As he continued to support her weight, she felt his hand move up across her back to support her neck. Goose bumps prickled across her skin. He paused, as if he might pull away, and she held on to him harder. And then very slowly, as if in a dream, his lips closed the gap between them and pressed against her mouth firmly.

It was like getting struck by lightning.

When she didn’t stop him, his lips began to move over hers, caressing, cajoling until she had to open her mouth because she couldn’t breathe anymore. When she did, his tongue stole inside, sliding into her deeply. She pulled against his neck, urging him closer, and pressed her hips into his.

One of Devlin’s hands splayed across her hips and he rubbed his lower body into her. The heat at her core soared and her body began to weep for him. Their kiss took on a heated urgency that bordered on desperation and, just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more, his mouth moved down to her neck, nibbling at the delicate skin, nipping at her earlobe. She cried out. Working on nothing but reflex, her fingernails bit through the flannel of his shirt and she thought seriously about giving herself to him right there, on the ground, in front of the tack room….

Sabbath’s indignant whinny interrupted them. At the sound, Devlin looked up from A.J.’s neck and shot a glare at the stallion, whose head was out of the top of his stall. When the horse let out another howl, they reluctantly straightened, panting.

“Doesn’t like competition for your attentions, apparently.” Devlin’s voice was deep with a very masculine tension. He still had his arm around her waist and didn’t seem in a hurry to break the contact. Which was just fine with her.

A.J. let out a shaky laugh. “I feel like we’ve been caught by a parent.”

Devlin stepped away. As he put his hands in his pockets, he cleared his throat. “I feel like I should say something apologetic. But I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

A.J. wasn’t sorry, either, and she was about to tell him when he continued. “I’ll do my best not to do it again. You can’t very well have your trainer be your lo—be anything other than your trainer.”

Even though A.J. knew he was right, it was hard not to feel rebuffed. And as if she were going to pass out from sexual frustration.

“Right. Er—I guess I should get my gear….”

“I’ll help.”

There was an awkward silence as they went about picking up the mess their impact had created. Tack was fumbled in hands that were usually steady; awkward half sentences were started and left dangling.

The kiss had changed the center of gravity between them, tilting them off-balance. What had been a hypothetical attraction was now very real thanks to the taste of pleasure, and both retreated into their own thoughts as they grappled with the implications.

When they came back out of the tack room, Devlin said, “Tell you what—I’ll unload the car. You get the hall monitor ready.”

They looked back at the stallion, who was still staring at them with grave censure. A.J. had to laugh.

It was a sound Devlin liked and his eyes lingered on her as she walked toward the horse. Watching her hips sway made him harden again and he shifted his jeans, feeling like a teenager. That thought made him smile grimly and, trying to forget how she smelled like lavender, he gathered up some gear and supplies. As he carried the load into the tack room, and apportioned the equipment onto various empty pegs and saddle posts, he resolved to think about something other than how good she’d felt against him.

Anything else, dammit.

To distract himself, Devlin walked past the rows of dust-covered saddles and bridles to the lone window at the far end of the room. He could see the ring beyond and the mid-level jumps he’d struggled to put together while she’d been gone. The physical labor of moving the long wooden poles and adjusting the cups to change the jump heights hadn’t been taxing. The problem was his leg. His limp had meant it took twice the time it should have to set up for their first training session.

It made him think. He was going to need help.