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I never want it to end.
9
DUKE
I didn’t plan for us to fall asleep in the back of my truck. But after a while of holding Ariana close and listening to the sound of her soft breathing, I must have drifted off. When I wake up, bright sunlight is blaring down on us, and I blink at it, rubbing sleep from my eyes. The sky is forget-me-not blue, and the clearing that was so dark last night is now bright green.
Ariana is still curled up asleep, using my shirt as a blanket and her dress from last night as a pillow. Her lips are parted slightly, chocolate-brown hair fanned out, and my heart swells as I remember how she looked beneath me, those amber eyes filled with lust.
It was fucking perfect.
I watch her for a while longer, memorizing every line and curve of her pretty face, before finally clambering out of the truck bed as quietly as possible. I pull on my boxers and jeans from yesterday and head toward the sound of a nearby creek rushing through the trees. Kneeling down, I cup the cool mountain water in my hands and splash it in my face, waking myself up.
By the time I get back, Ariana is starting to stir, squinting into the sunlight.
“Wh-what?” she mumbles sleepily. “Turn the light off.”
I bite back a laugh and bend over the side of the truck bed to kiss her.
“Sorry, princess. I can’t turn off the sun.”
She blinks at me, finally taking in our surroundings. “Oh.” Her eyes widen as she looks down at my flannel shirt, the only thing covering her naked body. “Whoops. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Neither did I.”
She stretches and starts to pull on her clothes before handing me back my shirt with a coy smile. “I think this is yours.”
I grin at her, buttoning up my shirt before reaching down and scooping Ariana into my arms, making her gasp. But her surprise quickly melts into a radiant smile as she looks up into my eyes, cupping my cheek.
“Thanks for last night,” she says. “I had the best time.”
“So did I, beautiful.”
I press a firm kiss on her lips, my stomach flipping over when Ariana kisses me back, sighing contentedly.
“What do you say we go get some breakfast?” I suggest once we break apart. “Then head back to my cabin?”
“I like the sound of that.”
I close the tailgate and carry Ariana to the passenger seat, helping her up before I get in and start the engine.
“What do you want to eat?” I ask once we’re on the road to town.
“Hm.” She looks thoughtful. “I’m craving cherry pie.”
Cherry pie isn’t considered a breakfast food in most places, but in Cherry Hollow, we eat it for any meal.
“Sounds good. We’ll stop at Buttercup Bakery.”
It’s a warm morning, and the streets are bustling with tourists, including families with kids enjoying the last of their summer vacation. This town is quiet as hell until July and August, when it feels like half the state descends on our doorstep.
I feel a familiar tightness in my gut as we park on Main Street, anticipating the stares. I try to avoid the town when it’s this busy, but I hide my trepidation, not wanting Ariana to notice.
We get out and head for the bakery, hand in hand. There’s a line at the counter, and several people turn when they hear us enter. Then come the double takes. People look, then with a jump of surprise, look again, as if their eyes might have played a trick on them the first time around. I probably look even more intimidating than usual with my hair still wild from sleep, eyes bloodshot. But it’s not just me people look at. I see them shooting discreet looks at Ariana, too. She’s holding my hand, her eyes fixed on the pastries at the counter, unaware of the attention we’re getting. It’s almost as if they’re trying to figure out what kind of girl would be with a monster like me.
It pisses me off.
I’ve dealt with people staring at me my whole life, heard the whispers of passersby as they turn to their friends and say, “Did you SEE that guy?”. But I hate the thought of people staring at Ariana just for being with me.
