AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I laugh and work around him, turning on my laptop and going to Skype.
Aaron answers in half a minute. He’s got the same blonde hair as Sadie, worn long with a green bandana tied across his forehead. Stocky and strong looking, he looks every inch the traveling photographer as he sits in a Hanoi café, the image pixelating briefly before settling.
“Mr. Sykes,” he says. “What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a question to ask you,” I say, my heart suddenly thudding.
What if he says no?Chapter Twenty-OneSadieI feel like I’m in a bubble of warmth and optimism as I sit in the car across from Saul, my manhandling the vehicle with skill despite the ever-present snowfall. The off-roader – bulky and safe – makes a steady passage through the pine forest, the sunlight lancing through the spiky leaves.
When we hit a rut, I squeal and end up with my hand on his thigh.
Saul smirks over at me, devastatingly handsome in his steel-gray suit, his hair swept to the side, his eyes missing nothing.
“You so planned that,” I giggle, keeping my hand there, squeezing him a little when I see the lust exploding in his expression.
“Can you blame me?” he snarls. “What man wouldn’t want your perfect-for-wanking hand on his leg?”
My chest gives a flutter and my sex gives an even deeper one.
We move over the rut and keep driving, the trees starting to grow thinner now, dotted further and further apart.
“Where are you taking us?” I say, delight in my voice.
“You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, would you?”
I smile and rest my forehead against the window, watching as nature rolls by.
It’s been a day since we found out that Fiona knew all along, knew, and condoned. Heck, more than condoned.
All yesterday I was waiting for her to change her mind, to reveal that it was a joke or that tiredness messed her head up. I think she noticed that I was acting differently around her at breakfast because before I knew it a strawberry was sailing across the kitchen bar and landed with a plop in my oatmeal.
“Hey,” I laughed. “What the heck was that for?”
“I’m throwing food at you,” she said.
“Um, yes,” I giggled. “I can see that. But why?”
“And I’m going to keep throwing food at you,” she went on, ignoring me as she picked up another strawberry. “Until you get it into your head that I’m thrilled for you and Dad and you stop treating me like I’m made of glass, deal?”
I picked up a croissant and gestured with it. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Fi,” I taunted.
That was it.
It was all-out war, any awkwardness between us forgotten. Jasper was the real winner of that food fight, though. He managed to get a few bits of bacon before we cleaned it all up.
I smile now as the off-roader breaks through the forest and emerges onto the side of an iced covered lake. The sun has gotten even brighter since we entered the forest, blazing down and bouncing off the surface, making it hard to look at directly.
Maybe that’s why it’s not until we’ve inched our way right to the edge that I see the log cabin that sits right beside the lake, a small sturdy building with medieval hangings draping the walls and a red carpet laid out to the door.
“What’s this?” I ask. “What game are you playing, Saul?”
He turns off the engine and then faces me, a new intensity in his eyes that causes me to almost shiver beneath his gaze. His eyes move over me and he takes in a deep breath, rumbling, oh-so-intense.
“The rest of our lives,” he says heavily.
Could it be? I dare to think.
But then I quickly diffuse the idea, lest it take root in my mind and sprout into something that will need to be felled when I find out the truth.
He could mean anything.
“Okay, cryptic,” I say, trying for a laugh, but it comes out distorted with emotion.
“Don’t worry, my curvy, genius princess,” he snarls. “All will be revealed soon enough.”
He jumps from the car and walks around to my side, opens the door, and then grabs me in those powerful hands. I squeal and laugh as he cradles me to his chest, the snow kissing at my cheeks and then melting as the heat.
He carries me through the snow toward the cabin, down the red carpet, his hands gripping me firmly, possessively.
Like they should. Like they always will.
Oh, God, can this really be it?
He kicks open the door to reveal a gorgeously rustic interior, with wooden beams and thick rugs and a fire already sizzling and crackling. A table sits in the center of the room, the legs ornately carved, and beyond I can see the bedroom and the thick, fur-covered bed.
“What’s all this for?” I whisper as he puts me down.
