Page 372 of Steamy Ever After

“Get used to it, luv. I’m going to be doing a whole lot more soon enough.”

I’ve lost count of the number of moans spilling from my mouth.

We aren’t in town. Or, if we are, we aren’t on Main Street. The ground beneath my feet is uneven and crunches with dirt and gravel. Maybe my thoughts about a renovated barn aren’t that far off base.

But he wouldn’t kiss me like this in a parking lot. Drake doesn’t seem to be that kind of man who would maul his blindfolded date where others can see.

So, where are we?

His fingers tighten as he guides me over the uneven ground, telegraphing his excitement. My skin shivers with the absence of the heat from his mouth.

"Almost there." He pulls up short and releases my hand. "Don't move."

The air holds an earthy scent, full of loam, dirt, pine, and wood smoke.

A fire?

The crackling of wood drifts to my ears. The aromatic smell of wood smoke brings back memories of the summers I spent in Peace Springs as a girl. I love camping out, staying up late, watching the stars overhead, and wishing time would stand still so that it would never end.

Gravel crunches under Drake's boots and another set of footsteps joins his. I lift my hands to the blindfold, curious as to who else is here, but stop. Keeping the blindfold in place seems important to Drake. I don’t want to ruin whatever surprise he has planned.

Low tones of a conversation drift to my ears. Male voices. The deep rumble of Drake’s and another, vaguely familiar, voice.

“Thanks," Drake says.

"No problem. Have fun."

Is that Bert?

Crickets chirp all around me. Cicadas fill the background with a droning noise. The gentle calls of songbirds roosting for the night complete the evening melody.

A light gusting of the wind brings other scents to my nose, deeper pungent aromas of animals and the sizzling of—steak?

The deep throaty rumble of a diesel truck sounds. Tires crunch over gravel and fade away.

Drake returns. "You doing okay?"

"You've got my attention," I say. "Was that Bert?"

He snickers. "Yeah, I asked him to get a few things set up."

The clatter of a generator sputters and hums. The only reason I have any familiarity with that sound is from my summer camping trips. My uncle always had a generator on hand, especially in the heat of the summer.

While we roughed it on the land, our tents were cooled by portable air conditioning units at night. There is roughing it and roughing it.

"Please," I beg. "Can I take the blindfold off?"

It’s killing me wondering what Drake is up to.

He has a way of filling up space, even when I can’t see him. His palpable presence tingles along my skin and hitches my breath. He’s in every inhale and each beat of my heart, enveloping me in a world of what-ifs and what may be.

He cups my cheek. "God, you're beautiful." His fingers trace a path over my skin, skimming over my lips.

Compliments make me self-conscious, and I turn away. "Drake..."

The heat of his lips brushes over my mouth. "You're amazing." His fingers slide under the silk at my temples. "Keep your eyes closed. I'm going to remove the blindfold, but don't look just yet."

"Okay." I press my hands against the hard ridge of his abdomen, drop them to my sides where I fiddle with the hem of my skirt. The overwhelming nearness of him makes my knees weak and my legs unsteady.

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