Page 88 of Unruly

I’ve missed her.

I want her to be mine. I want to wake up next to her without wondering if she’s going to pull away again. I want to be the person she comes to when shit gets hard instead of the one she needs space from.

“I know, and I’m not sorry, but I’ve got a blindfold. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

She’s quiet for a second, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. After everything she’s been through, I don’t blame her. I just hate that she has to do it with me.

Then she says, softer than I expect, “Okay.”

My chest tightens.

“Okay?”

“Put it on me, Cash.”

I step closer and gently place the blindfold over her eyes. My fingers brush her skin as I tie it, and I have to fight the urge to let my hands linger. I check the pressure twice, making sure it’s secure but not too tight. I don’t want her to feel trapped, I just want her to feel … safe … with me.

“Too tight?” I ask, voice low.

“It’s fine.” There’s a short pause. “Thank you … for asking.”

I stay close for a second longer than necessary, breathing her in. The blindfold makes her look softer somehow. More vulnerable. And all I want to do is protect that.

Protect her.

“Come on,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”

I guide her to the ATV and get her settled on the back before swinging in front of her. The second I sit down, her arms slide around my torso, hands fisting lightly in my shirt. I haven’t even started the engine yet and she’s already pressed up against me.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“Hold on.”

“Cash.”

I give it some throttle and she tightens her grip instantly, chest flush against my back, thighs bracketing mine. Her face is right there, near my neck, and I can feel every breath she takes.

She holds on the whole ride, even though I’m not going fast, and her hands stay curled in my shirt, her body molded to mine like she’s trying to disappear into me. She can’t see a damn thing, and that fact sits hot and heavy in my chest.

I take the long way on purpose.

“I missed your scent,” I say over my shoulder, mostly because I want to hear her voice instead of just feeling her breath against the back of my neck.

There’s a pause.

“Excuse me?”

“Your smell. You have this specific⁠—”

“I know what you meant.”

“Just saying. I like it.”

“Of course you do.”

“What? Am I not allowed to⁠—”

“It means I didn’t wash my hair, Cash.”