Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“What a ringing endorsement,” I tease, unscrewing the cap and giving it a sniff before pouring it in my mug.
He hands me a spoon, and I stir in the cream then take another sip. “Mmm, perfect.”
“You all right?” he asks, concern darkening his handsome face.
“Feeling a little gross climbing into my dirty clothes.” I pluck at my shirt, pulling it away from my chest.
His lips twist into a devilish grin. “I should’ve spent some time soaping you up in the shower.”
“I would’ve liked that.” I step closer, heat from his body washing over me. The band twisting from wrist to elbow tingles. “For future reference, next time I prefer to be woken up with more kissing and snuggling, and less ‘claimed by the Rider’ talk.”
Pain flashes in his eyes, lingering long enough to make me wish I hadn’t joked about something he takes so seriously, but then the corner of his mouth quirks. “So, you’re saying there’ll be a next time?”
“It sounds like we’re…bound now?” I raise my eyebrows, punctuating the question.
His gaze shifts to the side and he nods.
I sip my coffee again. “You really think a video about the results of my investigation could make everything worse?”
“I don’t think,” he says with quiet authority. “I know.”
“I wouldn’t post it until I’m home. Far away from…here.” Why does the thought of leaving Crowsbridge Hollow bother me so much now?
No, not leaving the Hollow. Leaving Declan. Big difference.
I drop my gaze to the green band glowing around my wrist. Is that why I feel this deeper connection to him now? Or is it the fantastic orgasm he gave me without asking for anything in return?
Maybe a little of both.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emery
Declan’s motorcycle waits for us right where we left it last night, glistening with morning dew. The long driveway to the house disappears into pale morning fog. Nothing but trees and emptiness surround us.
“Next time, I’ll give you a tour around the property.” Declan hands me the extra helmet he took out of a closet on our way out.
He swings his leg over the bike, steady and controlled, the move even sexier in the daylight. “Remember how to get on?” he asks.
“I’m not a total moron,” I grumble, clutching his shoulder and lifting myself onto the bike.
Still holding onto his shoulder, I settle in behind him. He rests his hand over mine. “I know you’re not a moron, Emery. But I’m aware you’re not used to riding.”
Feeling sheepish, I mutter, “Thanks.”
The engine roars to life, deep and rough, echoing through the trees.
“Hold on,” he urges.
I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. Laughter rumbles through him and he pats my hand. The fog wraps around us as we ride through the twisty roads. The wet, earthy scent of leaves mixed with woodsmoke fills my nose.
The town still seems half asleep when we reach Main Street. When he finally cuts the engine in front of the Applewood Inn, the sudden quiet feels awkward. My pulse hammers from more than just the ride. I’m not ready to say goodbye to him, yet.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, pushing the helmet off and shaking out my hair. “And for…other things.” My lips curve into a half smile.
He reaches out, curling one arm around my waist and drags me close, knocking me off-balance. I fall against him laughing and press my hands to his chest.
His intense gaze searches my face like he wants to commit my features to memory. “You’re welcome for…everything.” His voice drops to a low, sensual rumble and now I really don’t want to say goodbye.
“Are you sure you have to go?” I ask, trying to keep the pout off my lips.
The heat in his eyes dials down to a mild simmer. “Stay close to people today. Don’t wander around alone.”
“Is that a general safety tip or related to the curse?”
“Both.”
“I have more research to do. I’ll probably return to the library.” I shift my gaze in the direction of Main Street. “And I definitely need to stop by the fudge shop again.”
He blows out an exasperated breath.
“Look, I know how to handle myself, Declan.” I pat his shoulder and step back, putting some distance between us. “If I run into the Rider, I’ll just interview him until he gets bored and gallops away.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Emery.” His gaze drops to my sleeve where the faint green glow from my mark peeks through. “If anyone asks about it, just say it’s a new tattoo.”
“What if they want to look at it closer?”
“Say it’s too tender.”
I nod quickly. “I can do that.”
“And, uh…maybe don’t mention to Mrs. Applewood that you stayed at my place.”
Wow. Okay. His tone’s cautious, not cold, but it still stings.
But sure, he’s a local business owner and a descendant of the founders of the town. He probably likes to keep his scandalous tourist affairs under wraps.