Cold water from the high-pressure hose slammed against the concrete floor of the wash bay, casting a fine mist through the stifling afternoon air.
Alesya focused every bit of her attention on the water streaming over Phantom’s back.
Washing away the dust and sand.
Washing away the sweat left from hours of training.
And trying, desperately, to wash away the ghost of Victoria Ashworth’s red lipstick—still burning bright on Revan’s cheek only hours before.
Damn it.
Alesya flicked the hose harder, aiming the spray straight at Phantom’s hind legs.
She had no right to feel this unsettled.
She was just a hired veterinarian, here on a three-month contract.
Revan Caldwell was an engaged man, living in a world so far above her own it didn’t even exist in her wildest dreams.
And yet… every time she remembered the way he’d looked at her back in the barn hallway—that dark, hungry gaze beneath his billionaire mask—her blood burned in all the wrong ways.
Phantom huffed softly, luxuriating in the warm water massaging his powerful haunches.
“You’re lucky all you worry about is grass and jumps, boy,” Alesya murmured, her voice barely audible over the rushing water.
“Humans are far more complicated.
And far more repulsive.”
“Repulsive is a rather harsh word for such a quiet afternoon, Dr.
Vargas.”
The voice cut clean through the roar of the water.
Alesya jumped.
Her hand jerked, sending the spray bouncing off the cinder-block wall and splashing all over her.
Revan stood in the narrow doorway of the wash bay.
He was no longer wearing his pristine white dress shirt.
Instead, he’d changed into a dark gray sleeveless shirt damp with sweat, and tight black riding breeches that clung to every line of his powerful thighs.
The red lipstick stain was gone—scrubbed away roughly, leaving a faint, angry red mark along his sharp, defined jawline.
Alesya refused to let her shock show.
She twisted the faucet halfway down, softening the spray.
“I would’ve thought you’d be getting ready for dinner at The Club with your fiancée.”
The words slipped off her tongue as sharp and precise as a scalpel.
Revan stepped into the small, concrete room—barely four meters square.
The space seemed to shrink instantly, shrinking further as his tall frame moved inside.
The scent of cedar, damp leather, and raw, masculine heat instantly filled the humid air between them.
“Dinner’s at eight,” Revan replied evenly, stepping toward Phantom’s head.
“It’s barely five.
My horse needs a cool-down.”
“I’m handling it.
You don’t need to be here.”
“I want to be here.”
Three simple words.
Spoken with such absolute command that every hair on the back of Alesya’s neck stood straight up.
Revan reached for the lead rope hanging from an iron ring on the wall, steadying the horse with one hand so she could move freely around him.
The problem was… the room was too small.
To reach Phantom’s left side, Alesya had to squeeze through the tight space between the horse’s body and Revan’s chest.
They were less than ten centimeters apart.
Water sprayed from Phantom’s coat and soaked right through Alesya’s thin shirt.
The white cotton beneath her unbuttoned flannel turned translucent, clinging to the curve of her chest, outlining the dark sports bra beneath, and glistening against her skin.
Revan’s gray eyes dropped.
His gaze burned over every inch of damp, exposed skin.
His pupils dilated, his breathing turning heavy and thick in the stifling air.
Alesya felt that heat pooling low in her stomach, spreading fast.
Her body reacted to that look before she could stop it—her nipples hardened beneath the wet fabric, and her throat went bone-dry.
“Excuse me, Caldwell,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady as she brushed past him.
For a fraction of a second, the swell of her breast grazed his hard, damp chest.
An accident.
Nothing more.
But it felt like a bolt of static electricity exploding in that cramped, humid room.
Revan drew a sharp breath through his teeth.
His hand on the lead rope tightened until his knuckles turned white.
Alesya dropped to her knees beside Phantom’s left front leg, grabbing a large sponge and a bucket of herbal antiseptic solution.
She kept her back to him, fighting desperately to calm the wild, hammering rhythm of her heart.
“His superficial digital flexor tendon feels slightly warm,” she said, keeping her tone deliberately clinical, cutting through the heavy, charged silence.
“Tension from what happened this morning.”
“He spooked,” Revan’s voice came rough from above her.
“Not because of Victoria.”
Alesya squeezed the sponge over Phantom’s knee, letting the soapy, herbal solution run down the horse’s leg.
“He spooked because he felt your left hand trembling when you tried to pull him back.”
Silence fell again.
Only the sound of water dripping from Phantom’s mane onto the concrete.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Suddenly, Phantom shifted his five-hundred-kilogram weight to the left.
A simple, reflexive movement.
Instinctively, Revan lifted his left hand to steady the rope and keep the horse balanced.
Snap.
A faint, sharp pop echoed through the room.
Revan bit back a hiss, bending forward half an inch, his face draining of all color beneath the wash bay’s harsh neon lights.
His left arm hung useless at his side, his fingers trembling violently as he fought to contain the searing pain that shot straight through to his shoulder blade.
Alesya stood at once.
Professionalism swept every other emotion aside.
She tossed the sponge into the bucket, took two long strides forward, and stood directly in front of him.
“Let go of the rope,” she commanded, sharp and clear.
Revan’s jaw clenched so hard the muscle in his temple jumped.
“I’m fine.”
“You stubborn, infuriating fool,” Alesya bit back, sharp and unflinching.
Without waiting for permission, she reached out and caught his cold, trembling left wrist.
She pried his hand from the rope, secured Phantom’s lead to the iron ring on the wall with one quick, fluid motion.
Now there was no horse between them.
Only Revan, leaning weakly against the concrete wall, and Alesya standing close, boxing him in.
Alesya lifted both hands.
Her cool, damp palms settled firmly over his bare left shoulder.
Revan flinched as her cold skin touched the inflamed, burning muscle beneath.
“Alesya, don’t—”
“Be quiet, Revan.
Be still and let me work.”
Her fingers moved with the practiced precision of a surgeon.
Her thumb pressed gently into the rotator cuff beneath his collarbone, tracing the stiff, inflamed line of old scar tissue.
His deltoid muscle felt hard as stone beneath her hand.
“You have a mild subluxation of the glenohumeral joint,” she whispered, her face only inches from his neck.
The scent of male sweat, water, and suppressed pain rose thick and warm from his skin.
“Every time you force internal rotation, this tendon gets pinched beneath the acromion.
That’s why your hand goes numb.”
Alesya shifted closer still.
Her hip pressed firm against his thigh to get the leverage she needed.
She slid her right hand behind him, finding the steady line of his shoulder blade, while her left guided the joint from the front.
Revan’s body heat burned straight through her soaked shirt.
His heavy, warm breath fanned over her temple, sending shivers racing down her spine.
“Breathe in,” Alesya murmured, soft and steady right beside his ear.
“And breathe out slowly when I press.”
Revan stared down at her face.
So close.
He could see every drop of water clinging to her cheekbone, the way she worried her lower lip between her teeth in concentration, and smell that faint, sweet scent of wet lavender that was driving him slowly out of his mind.
Revan exhaled.
Click.
With one smooth, firm movement, Alesya guided the joint back into its proper place.
The sharp, biting pain vanished instantly, replaced by sweeping relief and a rush of warmth spreading all the way down his arm.
Revan let out a long, shuddering breath, his head tipping back to rest against the cold concrete wall.
But Alesya didn’t pull away.
Her hand stayed resting over the thin, pale line of his surgical scar, tracing it with a gentleness that was anything but clinical.
It was an intimate touch.
Heavy with everything neither of them dared say.
Alesya’s honey-brown eyes lifted slowly, locking straight into his—gray, dark, and burning with a dangerous, turbulent light.
“Eight months ago in Aachen,” she whispered, so soft it was almost lost beneath the dripping water.
“The footage showed Phantom refusing the double oxer—one point six meters—at the very last second.”
Revan froze beneath her hands.
Every muscle in his body coiled tight once more, but this time it had nothing to do with pain.
“Every news outlet wrote that Phantom lost his footing on wet ground,” Alesya continued, her voice steady and cutting, stripping away the lie he’d guarded for nearly a year.
“But I’ve watched that slow-motion reel hundreds of times since I arrived.”
She shifted an inch closer.
Her index finger traced the length of that scar—from the base of his neck, curving over his shoulder.
A touch that felt like fire searing straight through his nerves.
“Your approach was wrong before you even reached the jump,” Alesya said, her gaze piercing straight through every defense he had.
“Your left arm locked up before Phantom even lifted his front legs.
You hesitated in the saddle.”
Revan swallowed hard.
His throat felt thick with sand and bitter, unspoken truth.
“Tell me the truth, Revan,” Alesya’s voice trembled, thick with emotion that clenched tight around his chest.
“A horse like Phantom doesn’t refuse a jump without a reason.”
She rested her hand flat over his heart, feeling it hammer wild and fast beneath her palm.
“He went down with you…”
Alesya paused, her gaze searching his, watching his gray eyes widen in raw shock.
“…or did he fall because of you?”
Silence detonated inside the wash bay.
The air suddenly felt thin, starved of oxygen.
Revan’s face drained of color before shuttering completely, every trace of warmth swallowed by darkness.
His jaw set so hard the corded muscle in his neck stood out like steel cable.
His gray eyes blazed—not with desire now, but with rage, buried grief, and a terrible secret she had just ripped raw and bleeding into the light.
Revan’s right hand moved faster than thought.
Not to strike.
Instead, he caught her firmly by the waist, yanking her hard against him until their bodies crashed together, locking her between him and the wall.
“You have no right to ask me that, Alesya,” Revan rasped, his voice a low, wounded growl vibrating through her.
His warm breath fanned over her parted
lips.
And there, surrounded by cold water and heat and everything they shouldn’t feel… neither of them knew whether the next moment would end in a kiss that could destroy them both… or in total, irrevocable ruin.