Seriously, how much was a man supposed to take? Sure, he could have fired Little Miss Trina long ago. Yeah, she was good around the horses—even better with the books—but she was nothing but a walking, talking hard-on, and he’d been sporting blue balls for about two years too long. She may wear those jeans on the tight side, showcasing that lush round ass to perfection, but nothing about her suggested she would be up for the kind of loving he was itching to lay down. Unfortunately, because he was reluctant to make any kind of moves on her, he had allowed himself to get to know Trina far better than he had ever allowed himself to know any woman. Damned if he didn’t like what he’d come to know. Trina was all feisty Southern, African-American woman, with a sweet streak a mile wide. She was meticulous in her work, playful in her demeanor, and too fucking sexy for Micaiah’s peace of mind. She’d managed to not only engage his interest on a sexual level, but everything about her dared him to take her and keep her, if he were man enough.
