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He peers down at me from under the peak of his cap, his eyes swimming in something I can’t name. I’m unexpectedly lost for words and I lick my dry lips. The air is humming with an electrical charge which zaps me, and shoots a shiver down my spine.
Am I running a fever? As I draw my palm to my brow, Saxon smirks, a slow, confident swagger.
My palms get sweaty, my mouth gets dry, and I feel hot all over. I tingle. What is happening?
“Are you all right?” Saxon asks, sliding both hands to the small of my back.
No, I’m not all right. I’m quite certain I’m a second away from combusting, and I don’t know why. But when the tip of Saxon’s pink tongue darts out to wet his top lip, I know why. It’s him. I’m breathless, on the verge of hyperventilating, and fairly certain my cheeks are seconds away from bursting into flames because Saxon’s hands are on me. His touch is stoking a fire within me. And…I like it.
Horrified, I jerk out of his hold, ignoring the stabbing in my heart when we separate. This situation is completely unacceptable and I need to leave now. So why do I stand firmly rooted to the ground, unable to tear my gaze from Saxon?
Remembering him in the shower, I recall how commanding and consuming his naked form was. He radiated strength, protection, and control, and I realize I want to be wrapped in that sanctuary because it’s the only place I feel safe.
I feel like I’m drowning. I need to leave. Now.
Just as I turn on my heel, a car’s tires crunch over the pebbles in our drive. Cursing, I storm towards the door as I know whose car it is. Kellie waves to Samuel, who is moving some boulders that have fallen into the shallow stream which runs through our property.
Saxon is at my back, sighing when he sees his parents park their Audi Q7 near his bike. This isn’t really the distraction I wanted, but I’ll take anything I can get.
“Well, today just turned to shit,” he says. “I think I’ll hide in here until they leave.”
I still haven’t said a word, as I’m afraid of what I’ll say if I do. I need a moment to catch my breath.
We both watch as Kellie bounces out of the car, waving Samuel over. Greg appears to be checking out Saxon’s motorcycle, nodding in approval as he looks at the black, shiny beast. Samuel wipes his hands on his jeans before Kellie throws her arms around him, holding on tight.
Has she always been this clingy?
She never made it a secret that she loved Sam, but I’m now curious to see just how she greets Saxon. Will he get the same warm reception? Something tells me no.
“I don’t think they’re going anywhere.” I observe Greg pulling out grocery bags from the trunk. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner they leave.” I’m surprised that I actually mean it.
Saxon turns his baseball cap around and nods.
Kellie’s curious eyes swing our way as she zeroes in on us walking up the hill towards her. I suddenly feel guilty. I feel like she knows that moments ago, I was freaking out over Saxon touching me, which is ridiculous on all accounts.
“Thank you,” I whisper, afraid Kellie might hear.
“For what?” Saxon questions.
Turning to look at him, I smile, thankful when he returns the gesture. “For saving me,” I reply, meaning that in every sense of the word.
He appears taken aback, but composes himself a second later. “Always.” Why do I feel like that word bears the weight of so many different meanings?
And just like that, those overwhelming feelings return.
“Lucy, you look well,” Kellie says, indicating she wants a hug. Her warm welcome has me snapping back to reality and I embrace her loosely.
“Thanks, Kellie.”
When we pull apart, Kellie doesn’t hide her distaste at seeing Saxon all sweaty and dirty. And he doesn’t conceal the fact that he enjoys seeing her squirm.
“Kellie,” he gushes, opening his arms wide. “What a surprise.” Before she has time to protest, he throws his arms around her, rubbing his sticky, filthy body all up against her white pantsuit. His smug face is priceless and I stifle a laugh behind my hand.
She subtly breaks out of his hold, but the damage is done. Her outfit is now smeared with flecks of dirt and grime. She appears as if she wants to yell but stops when Greg walks over, beaming. He’s no doubt happy Saxon initiated contact, even though that contact was premeditated to make a mess.
“You look right at home, son.” Greg is blatantly obvious, implying he wishes this was a full time gig, and on his farm, working alongside him and Sam atStone andSons.
Saxon’s broad shoulders raise, but drop when I inhale a deep, panicky breath through my nose. I can’t take any hostility. My head isn’t in a good place. I want to play happy families for just one night.
