Page 4 of Horned to be Wild
“Are you okay?” he growled, and she smiled at him. She had dimples. Why did she have to have dimples?
“I’m fine. Are you okay?”
He managed to nod and climb to his feet. He was overwhelmingly conscious of his erection but when he tried to adjust himself so that it wasn’t so noticeable, he only succeeded in drawing her attention to his unfortunate state. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink, but she looked more intrigued than appalled and his cock jerked against his zipper.
“I’m sorry about my goat. I don’t know what got into her,” he added, then winced when the goat in question trotted up andstood at his feet, looking up at them with a distinctly innocent expression.
“Is she yours?” she asked, her gaze going from Mabel to the ruts in the grass where he’d slipped.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, checking his little human for damage. To his relief, she didn’t seem to be hurt, but she was still sprawled on the porch. He reached down to help her up and the minute their hands touched, he felt the same electric shock he’d experienced the previous day when their eyes met. The unexpected jolt shocked him enough that he pulled harder than he intended and she ended up pressed against him once more.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her cheeks even pinker as she pulled free.
“My fault,” he muttered and shoved his hand in his pocket, still hoping to hide his erection.
She gave him another shy smile and he realized that Mabel was nibbling on the hem of her shorts.
“Stop that, brat,” he growled, but his little human only laughed.
“She’s really quite adorable.”
She was, but she was also an unholy terror who was now staring up at him with a look of complete innocence. He grabbed her collar and lifted her into his arms before she could cause any more trouble.
“I’m Torin,” he added reluctantly. “I’m afraid Mabel has taken advantage of the garden since Eleanor moved away.”
“I’m Lila. I’m Eleanor’s great niece.”
“Yes, she talked about you,” he admitted.
“She mentioned you several times as well. In her journal,” she added.
“I doubt it was complimentary,” he said dryly, remembering some of their conversations.
Her lips twitched and dimples appeared in her cheeks again. “Oh, no. She only said nice things. I believe ‘big brute’ and ‘stubborn ox’ were among them.”
He couldn’t quite suppress a smile.
“Mabel, huh?” she continued, her tone as light as if chatting with enormous horned strangers—with equally enormous erections—was an everyday occurrence. There was a note of amusement in her voice that completely disarmed him.
“She can be… difficult,” he managed, the words stiff and awkward.
“I can see that.” She reached out and gently scratched between Mabel’s small horns. The traitorous goat immediately leaned into her touch, eyes half-closing in pleasure. He suspected he would have done the same. “She’s gorgeous.”
Mabel bleated softly, as if agreeing with the compliment.
He hadn’t intended this to happen. He’d intended to keep his distance. Instead, he was standing in her garden with her sweet scent filling his head while his damn erection showed no signs of disappearing, and she was smiling at him as if he were any ordinary neighbor.
“She won’t bother you again,” he muttered, suddenly desperate to retreat. The reluctant goat squirmed in his arms as he moved away, trying to twist around to look at Lila.
“She’s welcome any time,” she called after him. “As is her owner.”
He froze mid-step. Was she really… inviting him back? He didn’t turn, couldn’t bear to see if she was mocking him.
All he could manage was a non-committal grunt but as he reached the edge of the woods, he couldn’t help glancing back. He expected her to be scowling at his rudeness but she was still smiling at him, no sign of offense on her face. The sun caught the copper strands in her dark hair, setting it ablaze with color. She raised a hand in a small wave, and that simple gesture sent a bolt of need through his aching shaft.
Without returning her salute, he stepped into the shadows and disappeared amongst the trees, but he couldn’t escape the memory of her smiling face or her soft curves beneath him. He returned Mabel to her pen, then absentmindedly stroked her head as she munched contentedly on fresh hay, apparently satisfied with her morning’s adventure.
“Troublemaker,” he muttered, but there was no heat in the accusation.
