Page 28 of Keep Me

Chapter 14

Just a Taste

Reggie

I haven’t talked about Sofia in so long. Doing so lifts a heavy weight from my chest, but the process of removing it leaves me raw. 1 Seeing Daniel certainly hasn’t helped, his position a direct result and reminder of what happened. Their parents had died in a boating accident three years before Sofia. She was all he had, his provider, his parent-figure. So my father brought him on as his driver and security as he got older.

Every time I see him in that role, I’m reminded of the reason he has it and it hurts in the way her funeral hurt. Does he wake up every morning and have to face that same reminder? Is that why his eyes felt colorless and hollow?

On our way back through the forest from the dock, Roan takes us a different way and we end up on the edge of a field with rows of low-sprawling greenery. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He waves me on, and we trail down one of the rows.

“Strawberries!” I squeal, spotting plump, red berries poking out from under the green leaves. “I thought you said it wasn’t an operating farm anymore?”

“It’s not,” he says, and I wrinkle my nose and jut my chin as if we aren’t in the middle of a goddamn strawberry field. His lip quirks. “Not really. Finn just grows them for…” He tilts his head, and his eyebrows draw together as if he’s searching for a word. “...fun, I guess.”

I bark out a laugh, in part because of the answer and also because Roan struggled to wrap his mind around the idea of doing something for fun. It feels good after the weight of our previous conversation. “Crafty and a berry farmer? You Foxes are a bundle of surprises.”

“And a damn good one apparently.” He kneels down and begins searching the plant. I take the moment to appreciate the strong, corded muscles of his back visible under his shirt. He’s got several inches on all of his brothers and is much broader too. He tilts his head to the side, and the sun highlights every little detail of the tattoo covering his neck. A big magnolia flower in the center turns into geometric designs that crawl just past his jawline. It’s surprisingly pretty for such a hard man, toeing the line between art and violence.

“This one,” he says, more to himself than me, as he stands up with a perfectly ripe berry pinched between his fingers. He faces me with a crooked grin. “I guarantee this will be the most delicious strawberry you’ve ever had.”

He holds it out to me, his eyes dropping to my lips. Without thinking, I lean forward and wrap my mouth around the berry. His mouth opens in surprise, and his eyes get glossy, pupils blown wide. His fingertips brush against the corner of my mouth as I sink my teeth into the juicy fruit, the sweetness bursting like sunshine across my tongue.

His other hand roughly glides down his thigh, fingers flexing, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob on a heavy swallow. It feels like time hangs suspended as sunlight bathes the field, and soft bird songs echo that remind me of the twinkling of a jewelry box ballerina.

I pull away, and his hand hesitates in front of me for a second before he brings it to his mouth and eats the remaining half. His tongue flicks out to wipe the juices from his lips. The minute movement makes my stomach flutter. He glances down at his hand, where ruby-colored juice is dripping down his index finger and thumb. He drags his tongue across his teeth and holds his fingers out to me again.

I’m under a captivating spell that compels me to step closer to Roan and suck his strawberry-covered fingers between my lips slowly, like a hesitant first kiss. Heat spikes in my core at the sound he makes. It’s soft, rumbly, pained. And when I swirl my tongue between his finger and thumb, he slowly exhales, chin lifting. The beautifully inked tendons in his neck pop with what looks like restraint.

“Fuck, you’re a menace.” He shudders, his free fist balled at his side and his eyes glued to his fingers in my mouth. A sharp ringtone breaks the spellbinding tension, and we both take quick steps back as if shocked with electricity. He pulls out his phone to check the notification. “Finn’s done.” His voice, still thick, sparks down my back.

While walking back to the farmhouse, we pass a horse barn and I stop in my tracks when I see the small plane sitting inside the wide breezeway. “Is that Finn’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Can he take me skydiving? I’ve always wanted to!” It’s been on my bucket list forever. The freefall, the adrenaline, the bird’s eye view of the world. It sounds almost magical.

Roan just grunts. “No.”

“Why not?” I prop a hand on my hip.

“One, because I’m in charge of your safety and jumping out of a plane sounds like a great way to get yourself killed. And two, Finn doesn’t know how to fly. He’s just restoring it.”

He continues walking, and I hurry to catch up with him. “Why buy a plane if you don’t fly?”

“Damn it, Cortez,” he says harshly, and I rear back at his sharp tone. “Do you always have to have a thousand questions? Stop coming up with stupid ideas that will get you killed.”

My feet stutter to a stop. I’m stunned and quickly flooded with anger.

“Shit, I didn’t mean that.” He holds his hands up in apology, but annoyance still pricks my skin and sweat beading the bridge of my nose.

I’m tempted to ask him what he did mean, but instead I just shake my head and storm off. “Fuck you, Fox.”

I knew something like this would happen. It’s why despite all the times, including minutes ago with the strawberry, when I’ve thought about throwing my stupid rule out, I’m glad I didn’t. Roan and I would be explosive. I’ve already survived two explosions. I don’t want to push my luck with a third.

I clench and unclench my fist in agitation. My whole body feels twitchy, one rogue spark away from erupting.

“I guess he got bored with cars.”

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