‘My proportions are better suited to riding pillion than yours are,’ said Laurent. ‘Mount. I will mount behind.’ So Damen swung into the saddle. A moment later he felt Laurent’s hand on his thigh. Laurent’s toe nudged into the stirrup. Laurent pushed up behind him, shifting until he was snug in position. His hips fitted unselfconsciously to Damen’s. Once he had settled, he clasped his arms around Damen’s midsection. Damen knew this about riding pillion: closer, it was easier on the horse. He heard Laurent’s voice from behind him, a little more oddly strapped-down than usual, ‘You have me over
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