He
made her feel the animal's hot, damp flank, flattening his own
hard hand over hers. She focused on his dusty manicured nails,
his long fingers, weathered knuckles, and tanned skin. This was
the hand she had fantasized about, touching her as it was now,
and more.
"The strength of this animal, it can all be felt through his
heartbeat. So strong," he whispered. She felt his breath on her
forehead, and inhaled to try to bring it inside of her.
Mighty Boy stood steady as she experienced the bold breathing and
strong heartbeat drumming beneath her hand. "Yes," she managed,
barely, willing her hand to stop trembling beneath his.
He slowly lifted her hand from the horse and turned her so that
they were facing each other. The flower fell from her free hand.
He removed the glove from the hand he was holding, then he
reached for her other hand.
"No," she said, a little panicked. "Not that one."
He nodded to let her know that he understood, then guided the
ungloved hand beneath his shirt. He pressed her palm to his
chest, over his heart. "It is no different," he said. Then she
had the other, gloved hand in his shirt. She felt his insistent
heartbeat, so powerful in its pounding, the pulse of his life
beneath her hands. She raked her fingers over his muscles. The
wild scent of horses mingled sharply with his spiciness.
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