Page 27 of Thornhill Road

Curling up onto my side, I closed my eyes and tried to assess how much I’d given him just now.

It was the Harley. I couldn’t resist.

I rewound the night in my mind, taking myself back to the open road—the wind in my hair, the vibration of the bike’s engine between my legs, Mustang the anchor that kept me from flying away.

That was freedom, like I’d never known it before.

Out there on the road, I let go of everything, just because I could.

And I loved it.

That was the last thought I remembered before sleep pulled me under.

I didn’t hear it when Mustang came back.

I didn’t feel it when he crawled into bed with me.

But I slept all night wrapped in his arms.

I woke with astart and immediately panicked.

First, because I knew I’d slept soundly, and I hadn’t checked my phone inhours.

Second, because I’d slept soundly in a bed that wasn’t my own.

Third, because I’d made a huge mistake I couldn’t take back.

I felt Mustang behind me. He wasn’t wrapped around me, but I still felt cocooned by him. One of his hands was resting on my hip, and his opposite arm was stretched out over my head. I knew this because I could see the fingers of his right hand dangling off the pillow.

I wanted to stay.

No, I wanted to roll over and catch a glimpse of him while he slept—then I wanted to burrow myself into his chest and stay a while.

But I knew all too well I couldn’t always have what I wanted.

I’d taken what I wanted the previous night, and it was going to cost me.

I needed to get out of there before he woke up.

I also needed to get to my phone and pray no one had called me during the night.

I really didn’t feel like being fired that day, on top of everything else.

When I was sure Mustang was definitely still asleep, I carefully rolled out from underneath his hand and quietly slipped out of bed. There wasn’t much light in the room, but there was a small window above his American flag that let in a bit of sun—enough that I could see my bra on the floor where I’d tossed it.

I put it on, my eyes on Mustang as I did so. I told myself I watched him to make sure he stayed asleep, but that wasn’t true.

I just wanted to see his face.

He was sexy even when lost in a dream.

Before I hurried to find the rest of my clothing, I saw the last of his tattoos.

M-A-R-Y was inked across his right knuckles.

Mary Kate.

I wondered who she was.

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