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The air is rich with the scent of juniper and honeysuckle. The sun is warm but not unbearable on my skin.
This—this is what freedom feels like.
He eventually slows, and I open my eyes to find that we've reached the outskirts of town. He pulls into a little rest stop and stops in a parking spot along the edge.
His booted feet drop to the pavement, and his left hand reaches back to rest on the middle of my thigh.
Jesus, his hands are big. His thumb slips between my leg and his hip, and his hand nearly covers the entire side of my thigh. It makes me feel safe and feminine.
The calluses on his palm scratch against me, but it's the good kind. Like scruff scraping against the delicate skin of my inner thighs.
He keeps his palm there, and my heart skips a beat. Tingles erupt from underneath his touch, sprinkling down and sinking into my veins.
The feeling is almost overwhelming, my thighs trembling. His thumb moves in small half-circles, sweeping across the sensitive skin of my outer thigh.
“You okay?”
“I'm amazing. That was . . .” I trail off, unable to find the right word for how wonderful it felt.
I flex my fingers against his abs, and I feel them contract. It was probably an involuntary movement, but I can't resist the urge to do it again. Just to see what he does.
My fingers wiggle a little bit, and his free hand covers both of mine with a low grunt, stilling them.
“That's enough exploring for one day,” he says. I swear his voice is deeper than it was two minutes ago.
I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. “Okay.”
“Tell me where you need to go,” he demands.
Oh. Right. We're not out for a joy ride just for the sake of it. He's taking me home because my car is at the shop.
I clear my throat. “Oh, uh, I live on Magnolia Lane. The big white house with the three-car garage and the little porch.”
“Aye, I know it.” He taps the back of my hand twice. “You need a break?”
I shake my head. “I'm good.”
His one hand leaves mine to grab the handlebar, but he leaves his palm around my thigh for the entire drive to my house.
WELCOME TO ROSEWOOD
It's your favorite neighbor,and I'm back with the juiciest gossip in town. Just when we thought things couldn't get any hotter, our very own president was seen cruising through town with an unnamed woman on the back of his bike. Looking exceptionally cozy.
Do you hear that, dear readers? That's the sound of hundreds of hearts screaming as their dreams of tying down the illusive St. James brother go up in flames.
Fear not though, for there are two more St. James men. And dozens of Reapers. You can take the Reaper out of danger, but you'll never take the danger out of a Reaper. And who doesn't crave a walk on the wild side?
Until next time,
—Rose
30
EVANGELINE
“Alright,honey, it'll just be a few minutes if you want to take a seat. They're in the middle of something right now, but they'll have yours up front in a few minutes,” Dixie says, grabbing a clipboard from a nail in the wall next to the desk. She plucks the papers free from the clip, adds the sales receipt I just signed, and staples it all together.
“I'm okay standing for now,” I reply quickly. And I am, but mostly, I don't want to be caught off guard if Silas walks in.
