He Bet on My Heart, But My Stepbrother Fell First

Chapter 4: The Predator at the Table

Chapter 4: The Shared Saddle

POV: Ivy

I had been living in the Hayes Estate for three days, and I was doing everything in my power to remain invisible.

The sprawling, sunlit suite they had given me was beautiful, but it felt like a gilded cage. I spent most of my time hiding in my room, desperately trying to avoid any chance encounters with the man living on the other side of my balcony.

By Saturday morning, I was finally unpacking the last of my suitcases. I sat on the plush rug of my massive walk-in closet, sorting through a pile of my delicates. I picked up a set of black lace lingerie, my fingers brushing over the delicate fabric. A sudden, intrusive memory flashed in my mind—the sound of my silk blouse tearing, the searing heat of calloused hands unhooking my b*a in the dark, and the intoxicating scent of cold cedar.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my face burning with immediate, humiliating heat.

Stop it, I mentally scolded myself, roughly tossing the lace into a velvet-lined drawer. It was just a chemical reaction. It meant absolutely nothing.

"Need some help with that?"

I gasped, violently spinning around.

Kyle was leaning casually against the doorframe of the closet, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He had traded his intimidating corporate suits for casual weekend wear—a fitted grey henley that hugged his muscles and dark denim. His slate-grey eyes were fixed directly on the open drawer of lingerie, a slow, wicked smirk curving the corner of his lips.

"Don't you know how to knock?!" I snapped, frantically grabbing a folded sweater and throwing it over the lace. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might c***k my sternum.

"Your bedroom door was wide open," Kyle replied smoothly, completely unbothered by my panic. He pushed off the doorframe and took a slow step into the closet. The sheer size of him instantly made the spacious room feel suffocatingly small.

He glanced at the sweater hiding my underwear, his smirk deepening into something dark and highly suggestive. "You don't need to hide them on my account, Ivy. Though, I have to admit, black lace is definitely your color. It’s a shame your last set got ruined."

My jaw dropped. The sheer audacity of him casually referencing our one-night stand sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight through my veins.

"Get out," I hissed, scrambling to my feet. "You have no right to come in here and talk to me like that. We are step-siblings now."

"We are two adults who happen to share a zip code," Kyle corrected, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. He didn't step back. Instead, he reached out, his long fingers lightly tapping the top of the dresser, inches from my hand. "Relax. I didn't come up here to terrorize you. Richard wants everyone down at the stables. We’re doing a family horseback ride and a picnic by the lake."

"I don't ride," I said defensively, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my racing heart.

"Then you’ll learn," he said, turning toward the door. He paused, glancing over his shoulder with a look that stripped me bare. "Get dressed. And Ivy? Don't overthink the underwear. We’re just riding horses."

He walked out, leaving me standing in the closet, my face burning and my pulse completely out of control.

Twenty minutes later, I walked down to the pristine white stables. The sun was shining brightly, and Richard and my mother were already happily mounted on two gentle-looking chestnut mares.

"Ah, there she is!" Richard beamed from his saddle. "Ivy, the stable master got Buttercup ready for you. She's the sweetest horse on the estate."

A stable hand led a white mare toward me. The horse tossed its head, letting out a sharp snort. It wasn't doing anything aggressive, but up close, the animal was massive. I had grown up in cramped city apartments; the closest I had ever gotten to a horse was watching a movie.

I took a hesitant step backward as the mare shifted its weight, stamping a heavy hoof into the dirt.

My breath hitched. "I... I don't think I can do this. She’s really big. Maybe I should just meet you guys at the picnic spot in the golf cart."

"Don't force her, Richard," Kyle’s deep, calm voice interjected.

He walked out from the shadows of the stable, leading a massive, midnight-black stallion. He handed his reins to a stable boy and stepped directly between me and the white mare, acting as a physical shield.

"Buttercup is sweet, but she’s easily spooked by nervous riders," Kyle explained to his father, his tone entirely reasonable and protective. Then, he turned to look down at me. The mocking tease from my closet was completely gone, replaced by a patient, gentle demeanor that threw me completely off balance.

"You've never ridden before, have you?" he asked softly.

I shook my head, embarrassed. "No."

Kyle glanced back at his massive black stallion, then looked at me. "Ride with me. Apollo is trained to carry two. I'll handle the reins. You just have to sit there."

"Ride... with you?" I repeated, my stomach twisting into a complicated knot.

"It’s the safest option," he reasoned smoothly. "Unless you really want to walk three miles through the woods alone."

"That’s a wonderful idea, Kyle!" Richard agreed happily. "Take good care of your sister."

I had no way out.

Before I could protest, Kyle stepped closer. "May I?" he asked, his hands hovering respectfully near my waist.

I gave a stiff, reluctant nod. His large hands gripped my waist, and with effortless strength, he lifted me off the ground and set me securely into the front of the large leather saddle.

A second later, the saddle dipped under a heavy weight.

Kyle swung himself up, settling directly behind me. The immediate, crushing physical proximity was electric. I was sitting securely between his thighs. His broad, solid chest was mere inches from my back.

He reached around me to grab the thick leather reins. In doing so, his forearms caged me in completely. I was instantly surrounded by the intoxicating, familiar scent of cold cedar, clean soap, and fresh mountain air.

"Relax, Ivy," Kyle murmured, his deep voice vibrating right against my ear. "I've got you. I won't let you fall."

"I'm fine," I lied, gripping the saddle horn so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Kyle clicked his tongue, and Apollo began a smooth, steady walk toward the tree line, following Richard and my mother.

The first ten minutes were sheer t*****e. Every time the horse took a step, my back brushed against Kyle’s solid chest. It wasn't a deliberate, sleazy move on his part; it was just the natural physics of sharing a saddle. Yet, my treacherous body remembered him. It remembered the heat, the dark penthouse, the desperate way his hands had felt on my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, silently cursing my own biology. It’s just adrenaline. Any woman would react to a man built like this pressing against her.

"You're too tense," Kyle noted softly.

He didn't grab me or cross the line. Instead, he simply adjusted his grip on the reins, his forearms lightly brushing against mine to guide my posture.

"Lean back slightly," he instructed, his breath fanning across the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a violent shiver down my spine. "Let the horse do the work. If you fight the movement, you'll be sore tomorrow. Just trust me."

I slowly forced my shoulders to drop. I leaned back, just a fraction of an inch, and my spine made full contact with his chest. He felt like a warm, solid wall.

For the next hour, as we rode through the breathtaking, sun-dappled forest trails, Kyle played the role of the perfect gentleman flawlessly. He pointed out the different types of oak trees, his voice a soothing rumble. He adjusted my grip when my hands got tired, his calloused fingers brushing over mine with a gentle, lingering warmth.

By the time we reached the clearing by the lake for the picnic, the paralyzing fear of the horse was gone, replaced by a dangerous, fluttering tension in my chest.

Kyle dismounted first. He reached up, his large hands gripping my waist again to help me down. As my feet hit the soft grass, my legs, completely unused to riding, instantly turned to jelly. I stumbled forward.

He caught me immediately, pulling me flush against his chest to steady me.

For one breathless second, time stopped. I looked up into his slate-grey eyes. The polite brother was gone. The look in his eyes was dark, heavy, and intensely focused on my mouth. The s****l tension between us crackled in the quiet air, thick and undeniable.

"Careful," he whispered, his voice an octave lower than before.

"I'm fine," I breathed, quickly pushing against his chest and stepping back, my face burning as Richard and my mom unpacked the picnic baskets.

After we ate, my mother and Richard decided to take a romantic walk around the edge of the large lake, leaving Kyle and me alone on the tartan picnic blanket under the shade of a massive oak tree.

The silence between us was heavy with a strange, magnetic pull.

Kyle was leaning back on his elbows, looking out at the water. I secretly watched his profile. He looked so powerful, yet sitting here in the quiet woods, there was a strange, isolating sadness around him.

"Have you lived here your whole life?" I asked softly, needing to break the suffocating silence.

Kyle’s jaw tightened slightly. "Most of it. My father bought this estate right before my mother left."

I blinked, surprised by his sudden vulnerability. "I'm sorry," I said gently.

Kyle gave a cynical, hollow half-smile, his gaze fixed on the distant water. "Don't be. She didn't die. She just found a man with a bigger yacht. She packed her bags while I was at school and never looked back. That’s the reality of my world, Ivy. Everyone leaves when a better offer comes along."

I frowned, my chest tightening slightly. Beneath the arrogant exterior was a man who genuinely believed he wasn't worth sticking around for.

Without thinking, I reached out, gently placing my fingers over his forearm. "Not everyone is like that, Kyle. Not everything is a transaction."

Kyle slowly turned his head to look at me. A complex, unreadable emotion flickered in his dark eyes. The wind picked up, blowing a stray lock of my hair across my eyes.

He slowly lifted his hand. His knuckles were warm as they brushed against my cheek, gently tucking the hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my jawline, his thumb softly stroking my skin.

The touch was a dangerous spark, igniting a fire I had been trying to drown all morning.

My breath hitched, and a loud alarm bell finally rang in my head.

No.

I sharply pulled my face away from his hand and scrambled to my feet, brushing the grass off my jeans with shaking hands.

"I should go help my mom with the baskets," I said quickly, not daring to look him in the eye.

I didn't wait for his response. I practically ran toward the lake, my heart pounding with absolute terror. Kyle Hayes was gorgeous, broken, and incredibly dangerous. I didn't know what game he was playing, but I knew one thing for certain: if I let my guard down around him for even a second, he would destroy me.