Taming Clint Westmoreland - Brenda Jackson [48]
“You okay back there?” he asked her. She hadn’t said much since they had left the ranch.
Instead of answering right away, she tightened her arms around him and snuggled even closer. He could feel the hardened tips of her breasts against his back. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra and it felt good. And the way her thighs were squeezing him as she tried to grip the horse’s sides turned him on.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she finally said. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
As if satisfied with his response, she continued to hold on and together they rode against the wind.
It didn’t take them long to get to the south-ridge pasture and he brought Royal to a stop near a thicket of oak trees. Dismounting, he took the horse’s reins and securely tied them to a tree. He then glanced up at Alyssa, who was sitting demurely on the animal’s back, and thought she looked totally incredible. Thick desire flowed through his bloodstream as he looked at her.
He walked back over to the horse and lifted his arms to help her dismount. The moment their bodies touched, fire blazed his loins and more than anything, he wanted to kiss her right there, under the beautiful blue sky.
And so he did.
He took her mouth with a hunger that always astounded him, and when she offered him her tongue, he greedily devoured her. The sounds of her moans ignited his cells. She continued to kiss him back and every stroke of her tongue was sure, refined and totally into what she was doing.
He pulled back. It was either that or else be tempted to take the kiss all the way. He hadn’t brought her here for that. He had wanted to show her something, share something with her. “Come here,” he said, grabbing hold of her hand and leading her toward the edge that looked down into a valley.
She followed his gaze and he knew she saw what he was seeing. Down in the valley there were thousands of wild horses running free. “Clint, this is truly magnificent,” she said.
He glanced over at her, continued to hold her hand. “That night while you slept and I was on the computer, I looked up several other foundations that are similar to the one we started for Uncle Sid. Others have made it their business to save the horses, too.”
A sound below caught their attention and they glanced down to see two horses that seemed to be at war with each other. “Stallions constantly struggle for dominance of their herd,” Clint explained as they watched what was happening below. Two stallions were fighting it out, rearing up, biting and kicking each other. “Stallions go about gathering breeding mares into a band that they consider theirs,” Clint said.
He chuckled. “Sort of like a harem, so to speak. And then they have the job of defending their band from other stallions who try to steal their mares. That’s when there’s fighting. The stallions are merely trying to hold on to what they consider theirs.”
“So a herd only consists of a stallion and their mares?” Alyssa asked, seemingly fascinated by the information he was sharing.
“Eventually,” Clint responded. “Once the mares give birth then the young foals stay with the band. However, once those young foals grow up and become young stallions they are chased away from the herd by the leader of the pack.”
“What happens to them? The young stallions?”
“Usually young stallions gather together in their own herd—a bachelor band,” he said and smiled. “They are fine until horniness sets in and then they go out looking for an available mare—which usually is in a band belonging to another stallion, and that’s when more fighting takes place,” he said.
“I understand horniness can be just plain awful,” Alyssa said, smiling up at Clint.
“Yes,” he agreed, returning her smile, knowing she was trying to tempt him. It was working. He pulled her to him, wanting her to feel just how much he desired her. “How about another game of Playing with Fire in my office later tonight?” he asked throatily.
She smiled up at him. “I wouldn