"You know," Eve said, teasingly, "I can't bear to see you walking while I get to ride comfortably. Why don't you join me up here?"
Vincent raised a brow, momentarily surprised, but then his lips curved into a grin. "Are you sure? It's your victory seat, after all."
Her smile widened. "Consider it a reward for making me win in the first place," she quipped, laughing softly. "Come on. It'll be fun."
Without further hesitation, Vincent took hold of the saddle and swung himself up effortlessly, settling behind her on the horse.
Eve immediately felt the heat of his body radiating against her back, a warmth that made her pulse quicken. He was so close, almost too close, and she could feel every breath he took. His presence behind her was magnetic, overwhelming in the most unexpected way.
"Better?" he asked, his voice low and close to her ear, the intimacy of it sending a shiver down her spine.
"Much better," Eve replied. She tried to keep her composure, but the nearness of him—the brush of his thigh against hers, the way his hands reached past her to hold the reins—made her heart race.
And then there was his scent. He smelled of something intoxicating, a blend of sandalwood, cedar, and the faintest hint of something crisp and cool. It was enough to make her head spin.
As they began to ride together, his muscles flexed each time he tugged at the reins, and she could feel his chest brush lightly against her back with every movement of the horse.
Her own breath hitched when a stray lock of her hair caught in the wind and drifted into his face. Eve instinctively moved to brush it away, but before she could, Vincent beat her to it. Gently, his fingers tucked the strands behind her ear, lingering just long enough to send a wave of warmth through her.
"Your hair..." he murmured. "It's distracting."
Eve laughed softly. She could feel his breath against her neck. "Sorry," she said, though she wasn't sorry at all. In fact, the thought of him being distracted by her thrilled her in ways she couldn't explain.
They continued riding. It was as if the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of them and the shared intimacy of this moment. The conversation turned again, more serious now.
"My entire life," Eve began, her voice quieter now, "I've tried to live up to my father's expectations. He always had these… impossibly high standards, and I wanted nothing more than to please him. Every decision I made, every step I took, was to make sure I didn't disappoint him."
Vincent remained silent, listening closely. He could feel her pain in the way she spoke.
"I had to be perfect," Eve continued, her voice growing tighter. " In his eyes, there was no room for mistakes. And that's part of why..." She hesitated, glancing down at her hands. "That's part of why I married Nathan."
His chest tightened at the mention of Nathan's name. He felt a sharp sting of jealousy pierce through him. The thought of her with another man unsettled him.
Eve didn't elaborate on the details of her marriage, not the sorrow it had brought her nor the things Nathan had confessed that night on the terrace. She kept that part hidden, buried deep, as if saying the words out loud would make the hurt too real, too raw.
Instead, she continued. "Marrying Nathan was what my father wanted. A perfect alliance between two powerful families. And I convinced myself that it was what I wanted too. But..." She trailed off, her voice barely a whisper now. "It wasn't."
Vincent's grip on the reins tightened, his mind racing as her words sunk in. He could feel her sadness, her regret, and it only made him want to be closer to her, to somehow erase the pain she carried. But he also knew he couldn't push, couldn't ask more of her than she was willing to give.
Instead, Vincent spoke softly, his voice steady and grounding. "You don't have to be perfect, Eve."
She let out a small, bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Tell that to my father."
Vincent leaned in slightly, his words a quiet promise. "You don't have to be perfect for anyone. Not him. Not Nathan. And definitely not me."
Her breath caught in her throat, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that, how much she had been craving someone to tell her that she could just… be herself. No expectations, no facade. Just Eve.
For a moment, they rode in silence, the sound of the horse's hooves the only thing breaking the quiet. But the silence between them wasn't awkward—it was comforting.
The sun began to dip lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the hills.
"Thank you," Eve said softly.
Vincent didn't need to ask what for. He simply nodded. His hand still resting on the reins and the other lightly brushing against her back as they rode.