Her pink glossed lips grazed his ears as she spoke these words, brushing the soft skin enough to comfort but not to further arouse. Her right hand was placed carefully, lightly but knowing, on his trembling body, that beautiful muscular body already tensed and ready for what he knew was to come. Telling rivulets of fragrant sweat ran unchecked from his brow and skin, soaking into her skin, making them, as ever, one.
“Tacking up?”
The voice surprised her. Ana turned to see her trainer of twenty years, Jack Witherston, holding Mac’s bridle. Mac’s head bucked upward, tossing her hand from his withers. He was good to go, and go hard, in this, the greatest Olympic event in the world.
“Just doing the horse whispering thing, eh?” Witherston laughed, that deep, familiar laugh she’d first heard at age twelve, when her parents recognised that not only could she event with any horse, she could make any horse an eventer.
Yes, she was just that good, but Witherston had made her better, and in Mac, a 17.2 hands high warmblood gelding, he had found her the perfect match. He had turned them into one, one trusting body out of the separate masses of her tall frame and the horse’s huge yet surprisingly agile build.
Now, here they were.
Competing for Canada in the finals of the individual jumping event, her dream since as long as she could remember. She was acutely aware of the world’s eyes soon to be focused on her red jacket and white jodhpurs, on her body moving with Mac’s, on his hooves vis a vis each tender pole.
The fact that they needed just one more clear run before unseating the reigning world champion to earn that shiny glint of gold ran electric through her body, just as she knew it ran electric through Mac’s body.
Witherston threw the saddle pad over Mac's withers and turned to Ana.
“You’re tense.” Not a question, a statement of fact.
Ana immediately flushed, her eyes dropping to the barn floor. Now, the only thing she could think of was Witherston’s hands on hers, calming her as she had calmed Mac.
Just as the thought passed through her head, she felt strong hands grasping hers.
Her eyes opened wide in surprise as this man, this man whom she had always thought of as thinking of her as just another project, reached up, undid her chin strap and tossed her riding helmet aside. Kissing her, he was kissing her, faster than she could think.
“You’re going to do fine. Clear run.” Growling, he pinched a nipple through her white blouse, each in turn.
“You need to release your tension? Release it with me.