Change Rein (Willow Bay Stables #1)(24)

After snatching the hose back from me, she aims it into the soapy buckets at her feet, mumbling under her breath.

A chuckle rumbles from somewhere in my chest as I pull my shirt over my head in time to hear what sounds like a growl come from the woman now standing out of my line of vision.

“Do you enjoy teasing me?”

Not turning around, I toss my shirt onto the railing next to where Achilles and Street have been tied up so we can give them the horse equivalent of a bath before the weather gets too cold. “Yes, and you like it.”

My girl took a hit to her confidence where riding is concerned, and it makes me want to wage a war on Hell itself for making her feel that way. Or more so on a particular pompous *. I know she’s not able to ride, at least not for another two months—provided she sustains no further aggravation to her back. But I desperately want her to find some of her strength again. Which is why today is going to be about her and the horses. And, of course, me.

When she doesn’t answer, I begin to worry that I pushed her too far or upset her. So I turn around, but she’s smirking at me.

“You didn’t answer me.” I frown.

“Momma said if you don’t have anything nice to say, best not to say anything at all.”

I have only a split second to be confused before the cold spray from the hose hits my chest, and it’s followed by the sweetest giggle angels have ever heard.

Running a hand over my face and up into my hair, I shake some of the water off my body. “You did not just spray me with the hose,” I rumble.

Cocking her perfectly arched eyebrow at me, she fights against the smile tugging her full lips. “I thought you could use a cold shower.”

My boots, soaked and heavy, are stalking towards her before the sane part of my brain is able to keep up.

“Uh-uh,” she stammers, backing towards Achilles.

I crowd her space until the top of her shoulders are pressed against her horse’s side. “You’re playing with fire,” I bark.

“Well, actually, if we’re being technical, I was playing with water, but . . .” Her voice trails off when my arms cage her in on either side of her honey-colored hair.

Water drips from my chest onto hers as my faces inches lower. “So clever.”

“Mm-hm,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering from my lips to my eyes repeatedly.

Rocking my hips against hers, I make her feel how badly I want her. While the teasing is fun, I have no intention of misleading her. She is mine and I will claim her body entirely.

Her fingers trail over my stomach muscles, spread across the planes of my chest, and eventually lace together behind my neck, pulling me closer. By now, both of our bodies are soaked from having been pressed so tightly together. I can feel her nipples through her shirt every time her chest heaves, and the anticipation is wreaking havoc on my system.

I lower my head and cup her face with my hand. “You’re everything, London.” My voice comes out harsher than I intended, but the feel of her against me has my restraint barely contained.

My nose brushes hers as she waits in anticipation for our lips to touch. My eyes close, too. I want nothing more than to be overwhelmed by the touch and taste of her sweet kiss for the first time.

“What the hell?”

My head pulls back, recognition flooding as I swing to find a glaring cowboy twisting the knob on the hose, which has apparently began to flood the area. It was forgotten due to more pressing matters.

Speaking of which . . . I do my best to adjust myself subtly before speaking.

“We were just giving the horses a bath,” London giggles, stepping around me. Her wet shirt is clinging to her in the front like a second skin.

The cowboy, whose name I seem to have misplaced, crosses his tattooed arms over his chest. “Yes, that’s exactly what it looked like,” he smarts off. “Jesus, Bridge. Dad or anyone else working here could have seen you. Pull your head out of your ass.”

“Watch your tone,” I grumble, dragging London back against my front by her waist—both to have her close to me and hopefully hide my excitement our little water fight brought on.

He opens his mouth to likely give me a piece of his mind, but my girl beats him to the punch.

“Everything is fine, Owen. We have no reason to play hide and seek with whatever this”—she looks up at me hesitantly, and I nod for reassurance—“might be. I’m a grown adult, fully capable of making her own decisions and mistakes.”

I wince a little at the insinuation that I might be anything but good for her, but now is not the place to address it. Not when I’m soaking wet and sporting a hard-on in front of her brother.

Walking towards us, he outstretches his hand. “I don’t believe we had a chance to be formally introduced yesterday. Owen Daniels.”

Around London, I put my hand in his. “Branson Tucker.”

“I figured,” he responds, firmly shaking my hand.

“Well, not that this hasn’t been delightfully awkward, but I think we are going to get back to washing the horses now.” London laughs. There’s no nervousness in her voice despite the words she used, and it feels good to be backed by such a confident woman.

“Don’t waste the water.” He nods towards the flooded area. “It’s still summer. You should know better than that.”

She agrees before he turns his attention towards me.