Skye
Tuesday morning, I rolled over, groaning as I held my head. Marek’s headache had infected me. My whole body ached from our romp Sunday night, and either I’d had too much to drink or the after had something to do with the pain throbbing in my head.
When I’d gotten home yesterday morning, I made sure Grace had known I was safe and that I was turning off my phone. I’d practically collapsed in bed and slept until almost ten at night. I’d gotten up to eat quick and texted Mr. Dexter and Grace to remind them that I wouldn’t be into work in the morning as I wanted to proof my paper. Then I’d gone back to bed and slept without a single dream.
Marek had called and texted several times, but I ignored those. No way could he be over his wife issues already.
My phone rang, and I looked at the display. Grace.
I groaned and picked up. “I’m fine. You don’t need to call.”
“You sure? Because I would have expected glowing, happy texts about your sleepover with Mr. Darcy, and instead, I get radio silence. That’s not fine.”
“But I’m not like you.” I dug around on my nightstand for something for the headache. I opened the bottle, popped three, and followed with a swig of water. “I don’t feel the need to share my sex life.”
“You don’t have a sex life.” She paused a beat. “Well, until Sunday you didn’t.”
I groaned again and rolled over on the bed. “Mr. Darcy has skeletons.”
“Who doesn’t?” Grace asked, the bookstore cash register closing in the background. “So…the sex.”
“Phenomenal.” I hated to admit it. Memories of Sunday had left me with a sweet ache that wanted more of that wild ride. “But before this leads into a lecture about how a good orgasm or twenty overcomes most evil in the world, he has past wife issues. I’m not willing to go there.”
“Oh.” She blew out a defeated sigh. “Sure, head off a good lecture.”
“I saw it coming a mile away.” I smiled and grimaced from the pain. Grace meant well, but I couldn’t get into the details with her. Not when I barely understood what was going on. I should be looking for therapy. “So I’m not pursuing that until he’s ready to move on.” There. That sounded good.
“Well, did you tell him that? Because he’s called twice for you, and he’s been in already, looking broody like he was a mix of hungover and worried.” The stool scraped on the plank floor. “And he’s haunting the sidewalk outside the bakery again.”
I sat up, my heart pounding as my hand fluttered to my throat. “He’s not.”
“He is. Oh, wait.” The stool screeched again. “Nope, I take that back. He’s gone.”
I blew out a nervous breath and flopped back down. “Good.”
“You want to explain what that’s about or—”
A knock sounded at my door, and I froze, instantly numb from head to toe. Marek.
Gulping, I whispered, “I think he’s here.”
“Shit, what are you gonna do?” Grace whispered, too.
“I don’t know.”
Marek rapped harder. “Skye, I know you’re home.” His voice rang through the door, sounding a little desperate. “Please? I just need to talk.”
“I have to go,” I whispered to Grace.
“Should I call the cops?”
“No, he’s harmless.” I was the ticket to his next great adventure. I doubted he’d strangle me. And if his energy now swirled in a lustful frenzy like mine did, his thoughts were aimed a lot lower than my neck. “But call me in five so I don’t fuck him by accident.”
“You know I’m not going to call if that’s a possibility.”
“If you were a true friend, you’d save me from myself.” I hung up and went to the door, yanking at my sleep shirt to make sure all the good bits were covered as he knocked again. “I’m coming.”
I hesitated a long moment, my forehead against the door. I didn’t want to open it… But a small voice said he’d treated his wife damned good. Wasn’t it enough to let him think what he wanted and reap the benefits?
Nope. I’d be strong, remember I had a paper to edit, and send him on his merry way.
I unlocked the door and opened it. And forgot how tall he was as I stared at his Adam’s apple, his neck encased a different plaid flannel, this one a dark blue that would match his eyes. I raised my gaze, and yep, the color matched his stormy blue eyes as his lips spread in a relieved smile.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was worried,” he said quietly.
Why did he have to look—what had Grace called it?—all broody with a mix of hungover and worried? His hair was more mussed than usual, and dark shadows were smudged under his gorgeous eyes. Why the hell did that have to be sexy?
I frowned. “Why are you worried? Wouldn’t you know if I died or something?”
Shrugging, he leaned against my doorjamb with a casual grace that made my mouth go dry. “I can’t feel your energy, so I don’t know. But if you die, I die.”
“Super. We’re both alive.” I sighed and rubbed my temples. I didn’t have the energy to fight with him to leave, so I opened the door wider. “You might as well come in, but it won’t be for more than a minute. I’ve got stuff to do.”
He walked in slowly, his hands deep in his pockets as he looked around the kitchen and living room area. “I’m going to worry, Skye. It’s my nature.”
“There’s nothing for you to worry about. I have survived for twenty-six years without you.”
“Twenty-four,” he corrected.
I dismissed that fact with a wave of my hand. “I thought we’d agreed you’d leave me alone until you came to grips with who I am…or am not.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’ve done that.”
“That quickly? My, my.” I would have shaken my head, but it ached. All of me ached for different reasons that warred with everything. I wanted him to go, I needed him to take me to bed, and the pounding in my head had to stop. “Marek, I can’t do this right now. My head is pounding, and I have a paper due at midnight tonight. None of this is productive.”
“I can help.”
“Yes, by leaving.” I gestured to the door.
“No, by giving you an after.”
My core clenched with immediate need, soaking yet another pair of panties. Damn it. “That’s ballsy, buddy. Other guys have tried to use the whole ‘I can give you what you need’ approach, but this is probably the most original. Congrats.”
“No, listen.” He shoved his sleeve up, revealing the time traveling watch with the wide, brown leather cuff. “I’m still low on energy. See?”
I did see. The dial still dipped below the red though it was higher than yesterday. “Well, we’re bonded. Don’t you get energy from that?”
“Yes, but it’s not fast enough. The after gives me a huge hit of energy all at once. I recall the last time I was in this predicament that I’d had a headache until I cleared out of the dangerous red zone. So did she.”
Well, that pissed me off. “I can’t afford a headache for God knows how long until the energy finishes saving your sorry ass. How long will that take?”
“You’ll feel better in a few hours if you would be so kind as to humor me. I think one more after effect will get me where we need to be.” He said it like he was asking for a cup of sugar instead of an orgasm and a hit of following energy. He even shot me that lopsided smile laced with a hint of innocence.
“Great.” I closed my eyes for a hot second and mentally beat down the energy that begged for an after. Eyes open with greater resolve, I lifted my chin. “I don’t want to have sex with you. I’m angry, I’m hurt, and I don’t like you right now.”
He winced. “You got over feeling numb, huh.”
“Yes.”
He took a step closer. “What if…you got an orgasm, and I didn’t? Would that make the after more acceptable?”
I took a step back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. “Can’t I just go in the bedroom and take care of that myself?”
“I don’t know if that will work. We want a sure thing, don’t we?”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I squinted as I stared at him, skipping over the whole sure thing aspect. I crossed my legs to keep from squirming. “Didn’t she ever…you know…fly solo?”
Frowning, he cocked his head as he tried to get my meaning. As realization dawned, his lips quirked in a devilish way that I hated. “Uh, no.”
“Never?”
“No.” His smile widened as his gaze dipped to my lips. “You know I’m that good.”
Yes, yes I did. My mouth went dry.
Nope, you can’t go there. I dismissed him with a wave of a hand. “I don’t have time to sleep off the exhaustion that followed last time. I’ll have to take my chances with the headache.”
He bit his lip as he contemplated that, and I wanted those teeth on me. I didn’t have as much to do on the paper. I’d be okay—
No!
He released his lower lip and leaned in closer, propping one arm against the wall by my head. If I inhaled, I could probably smell that brand of manly soap I liked.
“You probably wouldn’t need that much of a nap,” he said. “Twenty minutes, tops.”
I could kiss him if I leaned forward just the tiniest bit. “I don’t have time even for an orgasm, Marek. I’m busy.”
“I can make you come in under five minutes. Then, you take a twenty-five-minute nap, and you’re ready to work in a half hour total. No headache, and you’ll be very productive.” His gaze dropped to my breasts, and my nipples throbbed at the quick glance. “I’ll even proof what you’ve written so far.”
I wasn’t considering this. “You’re from five hundred years in the future. How accurate will you be at proofing my paper, which is chock full of APA citations?”
“I just wrote a book, remember? And my teacher in English grammar was a stickler for proper punctuation for all eras.” The back of his knuckles on his free hand brushed mine, sending a warm shock over my skin. “Plus, I know the history aspect of your paper better than your professor.”
Damn it. I shouldn’t have let him in.
“Fine. Five minutes, but that’s it.” Oh, I couldn’t breathe, not when he looked at me like that, encouraging me to make stupid choices. “Because I’m not making this mistake again. I’m not her.”
“Just five minutes. Unless you want it to last longer…” He took that one last step forward, his hips and chest brushing mine. But he didn’t take his hand down from the wall. “Do I have your consent? The after needs your consent.”
I gulped. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he whispered, his head lowering to my neck.
I shivered, his breath fanning hot on that sweet spot under my ear. “I consent to you doing whatever, and I’ll give you the after effect.”
“You have to unshield,” he reminded as his lips claimed my skin, sucking on my neck as his arms wrapped around me.
I closed my eyes and let the veil between us drop, the room spinning a little as his emotions overwhelmed me—gratitude, joy, lust. So much lust. And I already knew his location as he was here, against me, with one hand cupping my breast while the other skimmed lower.
But suddenly, I felt trapped between here and somewhere else, living this exact same scene through someone else’s eyes and body. I’d had this dream before—a quickie in the dark closet with a cacophony of noise in the hall outside, him kissing me, his hand slipping between my thighs. Only I had on panties, and she had on some…crotchless, split thing under a heavy dress that allowed him instant access. But Marek cupped my mound though the cotton cloth and rearranged his hand to slip under the waistband. And then…wow.
Fascinated, I reveled in both her sensations and mine. He kissed possessively, deep, his tongue stroking in rhythm with the hand rolling and squeezing my nipples, his other working my clit with precise pressure that had me on the verge of an orgasm.
He lifted his head. To me, he said, “Release.”
But to her, he’d said, “Don’t scream.”
His mouth returned, silencing any protest. The reality side and the dream side exploded in a huge orgasm, releasing the energy at the same time to gift Marek with what he needed so badly. The waves continued as the noises in that fictitious hallway faded until just Marek and I stood in my hallway between the kitchen and the living room with him kissing my neck, his hand wringing the last tremor from my aching body.
I blinked, confused and overwhelmed as I panted. I’d had a few odd moments like the first day I’d seen Marek outside the bookstore or when, in the library, his white knuckles had gone white on the chair. But what the hell was that? Was I really someone he knew in another time…or was I going crazy?
He dropped a quick kiss to my lips and hefted me into his arms. “Bedroom or sofa?”
I couldn’t think, never mind protest. I sleepily stared up at his hard jaw and smiling lips from my cozy position in his arms, cradled against his chest. “Sofa. I don’t want you to ravage me in my bedroom.”
“That would be horrible,” he agreed with a broader smile.
He settled me on the couch in my living room, then went into my kitchen to wash his hands and I had no clue what else until he came back with a glass of water for me. Despite being exhausted, the headache had lessened to something tolerable. Damn him for being right.
“Drink,” he ordered.
I drank, surprisingly thirsty. When I finished, I handed him the glass, trying to come up with a way to explain the weird dream incident. “So…have you done that before?”
“What? Get you a drink of water?” he asked from the kitchen as he refilled my glass.
“No.” I couldn’t help but smile at his sense of humor. “That in the hallway.”
“Uh, yeah,” he said as he returned from the kitchen. “Before we—I got married. We were young and stupid. I’d convince her to give me a hit of after in a closet in between lessons. I always did better on the gifted tests after.”
“Sounds a little opportunistic.” Oh, God, what I’d experienced couldn’t be one of those mythical memories he’d talked about. I didn’t want to be her.
“She benefited, too.” He set the glass on the coffee table and shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably. And for once, I understood what I could gain from not shielding the bond as I felt his shame, sadness, and regret. I didn’t have to guess what his expressionless face meant.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” He sighed. “We were seventeen. She had too much energy, and we’d heard about this mystical after effect that other elite gifted whispered about. We’d tried having sex, and that had ended dismally, because I didn’t know what I was doing. So…I asked an older elite traveler what I should do.”
“And he suggested fingerfucking in a closet?” I winced. That was bitchy and rude of me.
“No, he suggested I take the time to understand her body and her needs. The more time I took, the better chance she would be able to achieve an after and not ache with misery. I had wanted her to be misery-free. So, that’s what I did, and…it became a game.” He shrugged. “The hall closet was sexy and naughty, and she always came quickly at the thought of getting caught even though the door was locked. She got off on it.”
And I had benefited, too. Despite not liking him today, his motivations for her—and for me—had been noble. “I feel like a bitch.”
“Don’t. I’m not always a good guy.” He stared down at me for a long moment, his emotions settling as he gave me an apologetic smile. “I owe you one proofread of a paper.”
I pointed to the coffee table where I had stacked my paper along with some colored pens for making notes. “There it is.”
“You going to nap?” Plopping down next to me on the couch, he gently lifted my head and settled me in his lap. Oddly, it was comfortable. Too comfortable.
“No. I want to watch you read my paper.” But I yawned as the exhaustion took over.
Brows arching in disbelief, he said, “I bet you’ll last five minutes.”
“I want to see you use the purple pen.”
Smoothing back my hair, he smiled down at me. “I’m not opposed to purple.”
Unable to keep my eyes open, they fluttered closed as I murmured, “Good.”
Marek
I wasn’t a good man, not as I sat with Skye’s head inches from the bulge in my jeans, my mind flitting to the things she could do to ease that if she were awake. I didn’t deserve that, though. I still counted this as part of my penance for past deeds.
Yet as much as I throbbed, this was what I craved, her head on my lap, trusting me to protect her as she slept off the heady and exhausting effect of an after. I wanted all of Skye, her energy open to me, washing me in that sea of stormy blue.
I’d had time to think since yesterday to consider her stance…and I could see why she’d balk. I didn’t know how a time traveling fraction worked, how they existed, because there were so few to survive. I had no clue if they were just a sliver of someone’s essence, or if they counted as their own entity. I’d always been good at skirting the rules. To me, she was still my Skye, and we were still bound. That held a higher ethical value than the wedding ring in my treasure box. I was her partner by bond first. I’d been her husband second.
Plus, she’d remembered everything once, which had been unsettling, hearing her memories and observations come from the voice of a child. But she’d been whole and intact. I don’t know what had happened to destroy that part of her, but I’d get her back. Somehow.
During our fight at the manor, she’d brought up some good points. If we went back in time, what would happen to her? I couldn’t give her real answers because I didn’t know. She had ties to this time period, a life that she didn’t want to lose. I could understand that. But if she remembered, I hoped she’d feel the call of home and want to return with me eventually.
But as I’d lifted her nightshirt and ravaged her in the hallway, I learned something new. Something had confused her. I didn’t know what or why, but that confusion still laced in and around her satisfaction as she slept.
I read through the pages of her paper with the purple pen in hand, making comments in the margins. She was just so damned smart, and pride warmed my chest with each sentence. She’d been our researcher, finding the treasures, learning the history, and tracking each piece to the spot in time that would be perfect for us to procure. My job was to put the procurement plan in place, adding layers of fail safes to keep us out of trouble and from making too much of a mark in history. She’d usually tell me I was too reckless or dangerous and make me change my plans, so we’d be safe. We were the perfect team.
But what if she didn’t want to live that dangerous life again, even to just go back in time to where our life had fallen apart?
No, I couldn’t think that way. She had to go back with me. If she didn’t…I’d be forced to go alone.
I would lie, steal, cheat, and kill for her. Any version of her. But I had to take the necklace back so she could be safe and happy. I strongly believed that was the key to survival, to put the damned thing back and seal it away forever.
But if she were steadfast on remaining in this time, could I walk away? I didn’t have enough energy to jump that far and return without her. Could I go alone, even if all I wanted to do was stay?
Because once I had the energy to jump again, I’d have to make a choice.
Skye
Before I came fully awake, I knew Marek was somewhere in my house, his energy sunny-yellow and happy as he returned to where I was—the living room? He plopped down next to me, the couch springs squeaking under his weight.
I lifted my head from where I was curled up as something tender and sweet floated along the bond between us like he’d dragged his fingertip along my heart.
He smiled down at me. “Hey, sweetness.”
“Hey, yourself.” A shiver ran through me at his pet name, and I shoved that away as I put up my shield against him. I didn’t need to be feeling all that, not when I’d almost fucked him accidentally. He had issues. I had to be strong.
I yawned as I sat up, the headache gone, and zeroed in on my paper, now a lopsided stack on the coffee table. “You finished?”
“Yes.”
“How long was I asleep?”
“An hour.”
I slugged him in the arm. “You’d said twenty-five minutes.”
“Ow.” He fended me off with his big hands, pretending to cower. “You were tired. I’m not going to wake you if you’re tired. Besides, the paper is good. There isn’t a lot for you to do except check your citations.”
“You said you could do those.” I leaned across his lap to grab the pages, ignoring the warmth of his strong thighs under my breasts.
“I told you I was good at punctuation and the history aspect,” he reminded.
“I can’t even with you.” I curled up on the opposite end of the couch and started reading his comments. He’d caught a few mistakes, his handwriting familiar and yet foreign in purple ink in the margins. My throat caught on a breath, and I closed my eyes for a long moment, unsure what was even wrong with me.
“Hey, sweetness.” Sliding over, he gathered me against his chest and kissed my forehead. “You’re fine. The energy fiddles with the emotions at times.”
“Yeah?” I wiped a stray tear from the back of my hand. “Because I don’t even know what my problem is.”
“Did you have breakfast?”
“No.”
“Well, let’s remedy that.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s lunchtime, so we’ll have to have lunch. How much is there do to with the paper?”
“Like you said, not much. Maybe a half hour to fix things, and I want to do one last read through before I submit.”
Rising from the couch, he dug his car key out of his pocket and swung it on his index finger. “Okay, you do that. I’ll get you something to eat, and what do you say you take me out to that graveyard with the weird stone after? Maybe we can go out to the point.”
How did I go from not wanting to see him, to giving him an after and spending an afternoon with him? But I needed a break, and some exercise would do me some good. I loved walking along the point in the fall, and the weather had cleared and warmed. If we were in public, I had less of a chance of screwing his brains out like a common whore. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His brows flew up surprise as he headed to the door. “You’re not going to fight with me?”
“I’ll save that for later.”
Skye
An hour later, Marek and I piled into his car and drove out to the other cemetery closer to the point. I loved this car, a fast roadster from the 1950s that took the backroad corners like a dream. He drove a little too fast but handled the car with skill that turned me on. I didn’t want that. I wanted to join him on this trip for a little relaxation and exercise—just not the carnal kind.
Nosy, I asked, “Do you have cars?” At his confused look, I clarified, “In the future.”
“Oh. No. They depleted the gas, and there’s no way to drill or refine more. We have trains run by wood or sometimes coal. There are horses and oxen. Bicycles. Ships. Exciting stuff.” He smiled as he shifted gears, and the car revved. “But this is so much more fun.”
“Then how did you learn to drive?”
“We laid over a lot in the 1950s and 60s on our way to the 1800s and taught ourselves then.”
I blinked at the casual way he’d said that, like he’d taken a trip to Venice. “You’re allowed to do that?”
“No, but what are they going to do? Come back and tell us no?” He smiled over at me, carefree and just as happy as his yellow energy would be if I unshielded to revel in it. “We have to avoid leaving a footprint that will change the course of history in some way. These cars are at the house in the future. They’re in really bad shape, but they survived.”
“And what about the manor house? How is that not a footprint?”
“Well, that’s a gray area. The house still exists in my future, too, and it’s always been in my family. So when I went back and they were threatening to demolish it after a fire, I bought it and refurbished it. It didn’t change the course of the ownership of the home.”
That made some sort of sense, except I was a footprint in this time, and now, so was he. How much trouble would he get in if his superiors knew? “So how does your family end up with it?”
He shrugged. “I have no clue, but I preserved it to exist, so I haven’t broken any true law. If I went and bought something big like a house we don’t own in the future, that could be an issue.”
I thought about that for a moment. “And your book that’s coming out next month? Doesn’t that break the rules?”
“Well, that’s a blatant footprint for a purpose. That’s how we communicate with the future, through books that we know will survive to our time.”
Downshifting, he paused at a stop sign and glanced at me as if to gauge my reaction. “I wrote it as a warning. At that point, I knew I was dying, and I wanted to warn them. There will be special notes in a version put in the vault downstairs. Someone will find that, read about the issues, and know what happened.”
Ah, so he had contemplated the consequences of the future knowing, and the footprint was the lesser of two evils. But I didn’t like being referred to as an issue. “And what if the issues are resolved?”
“Well, they’re not going to be, but if so…I’ll take the book out of the vault and let nature take its course.”
I glanced back out the window at the ancient colonials as rolling farmland passed by. He’d taken the long way instead of just cutting over the little stone bridge and heading straight to the point. I hadn’t been this way in ages, not since I’d gotten my tattoo six months ago from a guy Grace recommended who lived by the marsh.
The tattoos…
I sat taller and turned to him. “What do the tattoos mean?”
“Excuse me?” Squinting, he glanced at me.
“Your tattoo, on your shoulder.”
His dark brows arched warily. “You have one as well. In fact, it looks fairly similar to mine.”
I waved a hand to dismiss that fact. “We’re not going to dwell on that.”
“Then what made you think of it?”
“Just thinking of how I’ll never get to see you without your shirt off again, so I should ask.”
He winced with his casual, good-natured humor. “Damn, you’re brutal.”
“You have wife issues.”
“And bringing this up will make that all better somehow?”
He had a point, but I wasn’t backing down. I shrugged and glanced out the window again so I wouldn’t stare at his hands gripping the wheel, his thighs rippling under his faded denim as his feet worked the clutch and brake.
“So when did you get yours,” he asked.
“Six months ago, give or take. No, seven. In March.”
“You remember the date?”
“I don’t know. March fifteenth? Does it matter?”
From the way he sucked in a ragged breath, I guessed it did, but I wasn’t going to ask. It was probably her “loss of virginity” day or something creepy that they celebrated in the future.
I could feel him staring at me as much as he could while driving. “And what made you want that one?”
“I saw a picture or something in a steampunk magazine.” If I unshielded, would he know I was lying? Just in case, I kept looking out the window. “What do they mean?”
“Tattoos are special in our time. Most people have one or many, but the elite can only have one as a symbol of their bond ceremony. Most are on their shoulder or somewhere else where they can hide it. Not all times are accepting of tattoos.”
“So how old were you when you got yours?”
“Seventeen. We were bonded at sixteen, but she had wanted our mark to be perfect. The sun on mine is because she’d always said my energy was yellow like the sun.”
I didn’t want to think about her designing that for him, even if it fit him to a tee. A sun peeked out of his watch gears while a storm cloud brewed in mine, complete with lightning bolt. My energy was just as dark as a storm cloud.
“That I have a similar tattoo doesn’t mean I’m your wife,” I reminded as he pulled into the cemetery’s dirt driveway and parked in front of a broken, wrought iron gate.
“I’m well aware.” He sighed. “Can we let the Twenty Questions go for a bit? Because I want to just…be friends. Can we be friends? Because before we ended up in bed…we had a good thing going. And I’m lonely, and sad, and I want a friend.”
“I have a lot of questions,” I defended with a tilt of my chin. “That’s not my fault.”
“No, it’s not. And you’re right. But even without the energy, I can sense your defenses up and hear the anger in your tone. I don’t want that.” He bit his lower lip for a moment as he contemplated me, his gaze darkening with desire. I swear, if I unblocked him, he’d be smoldering. “So from now on, if you get prickly, I’m going to kiss you.”
My heart sprang to a gallop as my breath caught in my throat. “Don’t you have to ask my consent for that stuff?” He had asked every time we’d had sex or gotten an after.
“Nope. I’m telling you now, so you know.”
“Then what’s with the consent?”
“If you didn’t have your shield up, I’d know what you wanted through our bond. But you’ve already informed me you don’t want sex or an after. So, I’m telling you now. If you get defensive, snide, bitchy, prickly…whatever. I’m kissing you. Probably with tongue. There could be groping. These are my rules.”
I gaped at him. “Your rules suck. First, I’m not prickly or bitchy. Second—”
His lips swooped to claim mine, his hand cupping my head. His tongue took advantage of my mouth being open, tangling with mine. All sane thoughts fled, and I fought the urge to climb into his lap and christen this little car.
He broke the kiss, dropping one last lingering one on my nose. “Feeling less prickly?”
“No.”
“Well, you’ll pay.” He shot me a dirty grin as he grabbed the keys and got out of the car.
Dazed, I followed, trying not to drool over his ass as he climbed the little hill to the gate.