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To Destiny, to her otter hunt, to fixing this shit with someone else intimately involved.
I’ve always been a man who handles his own problems, just like I did with Uncle Aidan and his crew when I decided I couldn’t live a life of violence and pure villainy.
One wrong move half a lifetime ago, and I could’ve wound up with a nice, clean, anonymous bullet in the back of my head.
That should be far scarier than struggling for self-control around a new pretty face.
Then why is Destiny Lancaster so damned good at leaving me petrified?
10
A Little Wonder (Destiny)
This is so not how I wanted to see the sunrise.
When Shepherd mentioned camping, I had big plans to get a few shots of the morning and evening light highlighting this beautiful place. I thought it would be great for my followers—and for me.
How often do you ever get to do something like this?
Just drop everything to go into the wilderness and live a few days synched to nature’s rhythm?
Almost never.
Not when you’re a busy adult strapped with a career, a brand, a life.
Nothing that should involve making out madly with my boss in the sand and then tossing and turning all night because of it, so wet and heart-stung I still hurt in the morning.
At least I wasn’t suffering alone.
Every time I turned over, I heard him rustling in his sleeping bag like a trapped insect.
I knew Shepherd was awake every excruciating minute, just like me.
Stuck in reliving the last twenty-four hours, plus a hundred lost chances.
Is he kicking himself for missing them like I am?
Or is he just too busy brooding like the surly, walled-off creature he is, wishing to all the gods of common sense that he never went on this otterly catastrophic trip?
It’s shaping up to be worth every bad pun.
Even now, I remember too much.
His firm, comforting weight pressing down on me.
How swiftly he moved, seizing my mouth, growling with need as his tongue pushed against mine.
And what a tongue.
The man knows when to give, when to chase, when to tease.
If he just knew how to sort his own shit, we might be in a happier place. Not here, rising with the sun and trying like mad to rub the exhaustion from my eyes.
My panties are still wrecked from dreaming about cold blue eyes that can only ever offer conflicted kisses.
And that wild, wanting look in his eyes...
God.
