But her thinking I was? Shit, that made me giddy.

“You ready to go?” I asked, checking my watch after we’d talked some more, catching up.

She grinned. “You’re really going to go on my run with me?”

I flexed a bicep. “Sweetheart, I’m one lean, mean, running machine. I can outrun a gazelle. I can outrun a Bengal tiger. I can run circles around—hey where are you going?”

She tossed a sassy look back at me as she trotted off down the drive. “I’m doing eight miles today. Try not to poke—or puke.”

Eight? “You training for a marathon?”

“Just keeping the cheese puffs and tequila at bay. You scared?”

I puffed up and ran with exaggerated motions, high-stepping by bringing my knees up to my elbows. Just to make her smile.

She gasped out a laugh. “Alright, stop before you hurt yourself—or someone sees you.”

We ran together that morning, side-by-side, neither of us speaking—just together.

Were we friends? Were we more?

In the end, I decided it was just running.

“Loving means losing.”

—from the journal of Violet St. Lyons

A WEEK AFTER Sebastian and I made up, I got excited when Mila suggested we get out of town on an overnight camping and horseback riding trip with the boys. Sebastian and I had spent almost every day together since our run, but it was either at his house or mine. Reporters were constantly driving by now—wanting to catch a glimpse of Blair or the Mystery Girl. So far no one knew it was me, and I wanted to stay under the radar.

We all piled in the Hummer and drove up to the canyon and rented horses. Ten minutes into the ride, Mila and Spider, who seemed to have a knack for disappearing together, took off ahead of us on their horses.

Sebastian pulled up next to the slow mare I’d ended up with. “Living on the edge there, V. You better slow your roll or you’ll break that pretty neck.” He tugged on my ponytail.

I sent an envious look at his stallion. “Coming from the guy who’s riding Black Beauty. Why did you have to pick out the pokey one for me? Turtle here is ready for the glue factory.”

“Just want you to be safe,” he said, and sent me a lingering look, his eyes pausing longer than necessary on the neck of my blouse. Slightly sheer and low-cut, I’d pulled it out of my closet this morning and shouted with glee. Behold, I did have some sexy clothes. True, it wasn’t practical for a camping trip, but I didn’t seem to care.

He adjusted himself in his saddle and I let my own eyes linger. With his low-slung designer jeans and form-fitting shirt that showed off his toned muscles and tan, he epitomized virility. And sex. My mouth actually watered. We’d been keeping each other at arm’s length and so far it was working. Although last night when we’d snuggled on the couch and watched TV, he’d been especially tense. I wasn’t stupid. He wanted me, but he didn’t want to hurt me either.

He cleared his throat. “If your horse is that slow, you’re welcome to ride with me. You can sit up front, and we’ll go as fast as you can handle it.”

Perfectly innocent words, but my mind went fuzzy with heat.

“Sit in front of you on a horse? In a rocking motion?” I shook my head. “Like that’s a good idea.”

“You’d like it,” he said huskily. “I promise to keep my hands to myself unless you want me to hold you—so you don’t slide off.”

And so. I pictured me riding in the same saddle with him. Heat pooled in my core and my body twitched. To fight it off, I pulled out a handful of Oreos from my jacket pocket and crammed one in my mouth.

Stress eating? Sexual frustration? Yes. I dreamed about him constantly. I wanted him so badly my lady parts were crying. Yet it wasn’t always just about sex. Most times, it was just an image of us together. Holding each other face-to-face.

“What’s making your face so red, V?”

An Oreo piece got stuck, and I coughed.

“You okay?” he said with concern and pulled on my reins, making my horse stop.

I swallowed down the piece and rasped out, “Yeah.”

He immediately handed me over some water and I chugged it down, but then I realized how manly he smelled with his natural scent and sweat mixed together. A knot formed in my belly. Maybe this trip had been too soon. He was entirely too beautiful.

“What are you thinking?” he said softly.

“The scenery? Uh, it’s quite pretty here.” I stared into his eyes.

“You’re not even looking at the scenery.”

I came to and glanced around at the trees and rocks and stuff. “Better?”

He laughed and wiped a crumb off my lip, and when his breath quickened, I realized he was just as gone as I was.

I shivered and stared at his lips. God, they were luscious. I wanted to bite them. I wanted him to bite me back. Maybe get on that horse with him and let him tear my shirt off with his teeth. I imagined me sitting in front of him while his fingers skimmed my body. My clit. I bit back a moan.

“V? You with me?”

I jerked. “You really want to know what I’m thinking?”

He nodded.

“I’m trying to figure out in my head if it’s possible to have sex on a horse.”

He went utterly still. “And what did you decide?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “That—that we’d better talk about something else.”

He nodded.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” he said a few minutes later.