Page 43 of A War of Three Kings

“You want to ride double on my horse until you get your confidence up?” I ask, a flush running over my skin. Maybe he doesn’t realize how intimate such a thing can feel.

“Would you mind?” The words rush out of him.

“I guess it’s one way to teach you how to ride.”

I pull my stockings and boots back on, then walk away, not missing the way the tension falls from his shoulders. Aldrin follows close behind, but stops short as I tie the reins of my mare to the stallion’s saddle so he can lead her.

He hovers back. “We are getting on that war beast again? Yours looks…more approachable.”

“Mine can’t take both our weight.”

I use the stirrup to pull myself up into the saddle and glance back at Aldrin. He is still surveying the horse. He has a hand behind his head, his bulging bicep exposed by the short sleeve of his tunic.

“Do you need help mounting?” I ask.

“I know how to do it…in theory,” he mutters.

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, you need to come a little closer.”

Aldrin lets out a long breath, then takes slow steps toward us. The stallion huffs out a whicker in his direction and Aldrin immediately holds up his hands at it in surrender. Something melts within me. I leap down and take his hand, almost dragging him back to the horse.

“You get up first and I’ll…hold the horse,” I say, as though it will make any difference.

Aldrin approaches with bolder steps, pulling himself up in a way that is somehow both inexperienced and graceful. I climb into the saddle in front of him, his large hands shooting out around my hips and helping me in. I send him a dark look, and he pulls his hands away and into the air with mock innocence.

I’m not ready to fall back into that comfortable intimacy we had. Not without talking through our issues first.

My father shouts a command for our band to get moving. I spur our stallion into motion, and the horse jolts forward. Aldrin’s arms wrap swiftly around my waist. His hold on me is so tight, his body so tense against mine, that I don’t doubt his fear. I join the line of horses as far back as possible, because I don’t want to deal with my father’s fury if he sees Aldrin this close to me.

Silvan is just ahead of us, his jaw tight and all the color gone from his face. His mount plods steadily on, but his stiff bodyhardly moves with it. He’ll have aches running up his back and legs by nightfall.

Our band of horses and warriors falls into a rhythm as we cross rolling meadows, the others naturally leaving space around the fae.

Aldrin’s hands rest loosely around my waist, clearly more relaxed now. I know I should tell him to take them off me, should hold myself separate from him, but the feel of his thick, muscular thighs pressed up against mine and his arms around me—almost caging me, in such a warm and protective way—is intoxicating. I can’t help leaning back into his hard chest and savoring the masculine scent that envelops me.

I have hungered to touch him for so long, but taking him to my bed without healing the festering wounds between us would be a betrayal to myself and my worth. But allowing him to put his hands on me here, like this? At least I can deny to myself and to him that it is anything more.

Aldrin’s hands roam over my stomach ever so slowly, as though his thoughts match my own and he hopes I won’t notice. I am hyper-aware of the placement of each of his fingers.

One hand ends up on my hip, dangerously close to my backside, and the other on my ribcage, spread until his thumb almost reaches the swell of my breast. They move in drawn-out, maddening circles, as though he knows he shouldn’t, but can’t help himself.

l melt into his hard chest, allowing myself to fall even closer to him.

Thoughts fly unbidden into my mind. Fantasies of those long fingers sliding further down my belly and slipping beneath the belt of my wide-cut pants, then dipping beneath my undergarment. Of the calluses on their tips snagging across my bare skin until they find their way to my core, already hot and needy for him.

I crave the groan that would escape his lips when he finds just how wet I am for him. How desperately I want him to plunge those long, thick fingers into me. To curl them deep inside me. A shiver runs through me as my breath hitches.

I shift in the saddle as I try to dispel those thoughts, but I cannot get comfortable. All I end up doing is rubbing my ass against Aldrin’s thighs. The gods help me, I want to do it again, to tease him. The people nearby are the only thing that stops me.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs into my ear, his breath curling on my neck.

I turn to glance up at him and find his eyes hooded. He is definitely comfortable on this horse right now.

“Nothing,” I respond quickly.

“Mmmm,” he rumbles.

A few moments pass, and then his body tenses around me again.

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