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My chest constricted at the thought of what Shiloh had faced, but I forced my hands to keep stroking the gelding. “I don’t want to cause him pain,” she said softly. “You’re not. You’re teaching him that not all hands hurt.”
“You’re touching me.” There was wonder in her tone that had my brows pulling together. “Would you rather I didn’t?” Shiloh’s gaze flew to mine. “Don’t let go.” “I promise. I won’t let go.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered. “What doesn’t?” “You touching me.” I fought the urge to rear back—only decades with horses kept me from doing so. The training that kept me from reacting strongly when I got knocked sideways. “You thought it would?” “It always does. Whenever someone touches me. It…it’s like it grates against my skin.” I bit back a million different curses. “Tell me if it’s too much.” She shook her head back and forth. “It’s not.”
“I like having you here. I think I needed it just as much as you did.” The truth of those words hit somewhere deep in my chest, burning. But it was a beautiful kind of pain. One I welcomed. One that belonged only to Shiloh.
“You’re amazing, you know that? Pure fire.” I looked up into those onyx eyes. “Only for the people who matter.” And I burned the brightest for one person. Him.
He barked out a laugh. “Shiloh, the last thing I feel for you is pity.” He bent forward, touching his forehead to mine. “What do you feel for me?” Ramsey’s fingers twined with mine. “I don’t think there’s a word for it in the English language. But it burns through me. And I don’t want to ever let it go.”
