Seven

                                    

                                          
I feel Liam's sculpted abs beneath his shirt as we bounce up and down in rhythm, following the horse's move. My breath stills when I lean towards his sturdy, wide back, searching for my balance. His muscles tense, responding to my touch. 
                          
Oh boy! I draw back stoutly, blushing.
                          
"If you continue like that, you're surely going to fall down." Liam's words almost come true when the horse speeds up.
                          
Shit! I tighten my grip, bumping up, then down, in turns . . . a rough, exciting pace. 
                          
"Like this?" I ask, stifling a laugh.
                          
"Whatever fits you, Ms. Jones. I'm only concerned about your safety; don't find it such a burden," he says gently.
                          
What an assurance! I sigh softly.
                          
"I hope you can breathe." I suddenly feel I'm buckling him a bit too hard.
                          
"Why?" He huffs a small laugh.
                          
Oh, the sound of his laughter!
                          
"I mean, I hope I'm not holding too tight. I wouldn't want suffocation from a clumsy stranger to be the cause of your death in such a tender age." I regret soon after blurting out such an excuse for a joke.
                          
What's wrong with my word-filter today?
                          
Liam laughs for real this time, sounding at ease somehow. "It's the right amount, but no more," he replies.
                          
"Okay, Sir. No more," I breathe with a content smile, my mood strangely in a loft. Liam's abdominal muscles contract, and I believe he's laughing, and it elicits a weird sense of joy in me. "Anything funny?" I query.
                          
"A lot, actually," he answers after a short pause. "I think you are, indeed, clumsy . . . Ms. Jones."
                          
"Am I?" I gape, searching for his face with a peek over his shoulder. He gazes back at me, his boisterous blue eyes currently as cool as the soothing beach clouds. His lips curl into a mocking smile, and I stay rattled under his scrutiny.
                          
His intense gaze on my lips.
                          
I breathe erratically, my hormones reacting inappropriately. It's as though he's seeing me for the first time, and I feel the same way—hypnotized by his eyes.
                          
He gently shifts his face ahead, leading Charlie toward a clearing of long stubborn leaves, and I clear my suddenly-dry throat, pulling back. Why do I feel hot in the cheeks? I puff some air, reclaiming my composure.
                          
"Maybe you should stop being tense and relax your body," Liam says, snapping me from my trance. "You may scare the horse."
                          
"Really?" I ask but he doesn't respond. "Such manners you have," I mutter underneath my breath and decide to shut up.
                          
"I do have manners. But I wonder if you have any." He pitches a quick glance at me over his shoulder.
                          
"What?" I chuckle, and he laughs gently. "I mean, why?"
                          
"You seem to be speaking too much of your mind," Liam explains, "even the things you don't want to disclose."
                          
Damn, he's right!
                          
"I'm not sure what you're talking about," I argue nevertheless. "I can filter my speech perfectly well, Mr. Darcy. I trust my ability to be poised."
                          
"Oh?" he utters, mocking me. "I see that stubbornness is not the only problem you have, Ms. Jones. You also have a war in accepting the truth, don't you?"
                          
"Okay, enough!" I snap.
                          
"As you wish," Liam breathes and we go silent momentarily, letting myself calm down. He's getting into my head more than I desire. "Are you angry at me?" he asks out of the blue.