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“Going to see Blondie?” Hawk calls out.
“Fuck you,” I grunt.
They bust up laughing, and though they’re annoying, they’re not wrong. Sonya is certainly notable.
I make my way down the hall to the spare rooms, my steps slowing the closer I get to Sonya’s. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I’m picking her up for a date or anything.Then why are my hands so sweaty? And why is my heart stuttering and stopping the longer I stand in front of her closed door?
Shoving those thoughts aside, I take a deep breath and knock on the door. I realized yesterday I invaded her space by walking right in, but I truly wasn’t expecting the door to be unlocked.
A second later, it swings open, revealing the object of my obsession in a yellow dress. It has lacy sleeves and hits just below her knees. She’s radiant, as always. The sun shining through the window behind her lights her up like an angel.
“Hey,” she says with a smile.
I try greeting her, but all that comes out is a half cough, half grunt. She doesn’t mind. In fact, I’m rewarded with an even bigger smile. Why does she do that? I’ve been told my gruff demeanor can be off-putting, and truthfully, that always suited me fine. Sonya seems to find my grunts entertaining.
“So, where are we going? Am I dressed appropriately?”
The little siren spins, and the hem of her dress lifts enough for me to get a peek at her thick thighs and smooth, creamy skin. I tear my eyes from her legs, focusing instead on her hair. I’m mesmerized by the sun sparking in the waves of her golden hair and the strands brushing across her cheeks and lips as she spins.
“You’re perfect,” I say without thinking.
Sonya stops spinning. Her hair falls around her shoulders, framing her round cheeks and wide blue eyes. “You’re not too bad yourself,” comes her cheeky response. “Now, are you going to tell me where we’re going or what?” she asks, her hands on her hips. She narrows her eyes at me, but she’s about as intimidating as a fluffy kitten.
“It’s a surprise,” I tell her, stepping aside so she can join me in the hallway.
I wait until Sonya takes a step, consciously trying to match her pace. After a few steps, she shocks the hell out of me by looping her arm through mine. I stop and look down at our connection, causing Sonya to jerk backward. I quickly recover and resume walking, but I swear I feel her touch every-fucking-where in my body.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
Once we’re settled on my bike, I peel out of the parking lot, loving how Sonya cheers and clings to me as we race down the road. We wind around back roads that take us to the edge of town and further into the desert country. I pull over and park the bike close to my favorite lookout spot, hidden amongst the brush and cacti.
“Uh, is this the part where you bury my body in the desert where no one will find me?” Sonya asks with a nervous laugh as she dismounts.
I follow, coming around to stand in front of her. “No,” I answer, holding out my hand. Sonya hits me with those damn blue eyes of hers, an intoxicating mix of vulnerability and strength shining up at me. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she says softly, much like when I asked her yesterday.
I can’t explain the rush it gives me to know this precious woman trusts me. She places her delicate hand in my much rougher one, and I wrap my fingers around it and lead her to the edge of the lookout point.
“Wow,” Sonya breathes. “It’s like the sea, only… sand.”
I nod, guiding her to stand in front of me. I hold Sonya by the hips, keeping her steady as I lean down and brush my lips against the shell of her ear. “There’s no one here to judge you,” I whisper. “No one will punish you for not making your bed or speaking out of turn. You’re completely free here. Can you feel it?”
Sonya inhales sharply, holding her breath for a beat before exhaling everything. She nods and looks at me over her shoulder. “Yeah,” she murmurs.
“Free to do whatever the fuck you want. Free to say whatever you’ve been keeping locked up inside.”
“How do you…?”
She doesn’t have to finish the question for me to know what she wanted to ask. “How do I know you have something burning you up from the inside?”
Sonya nods.
“Everyone gets angry. From what little you’ve shared of your life, I think your anger is justified. Someone told you to behave under threat of punishment. They made you feel like you had to be perfect to be accepted. Am I close to the truth?”
“Too close,” Sonya whispers. “It wasn’t all my parents’ fault. They were doing what the church commanded. What the pastor commanded.”
“Then get angry at them, too.”
