Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
There’s a faint glow I can see when we're still at a distance, but as we get closer, I see what it really is—the nature trail lined with carved pumpkins, all with a white-lit candle inside. There must be almost a hundred of them winding through the wooded path.
"Dean," I gasp, looking at him. "This is...perfect."
He squeezes my hand. Then, as if by magic, the two of us begin to walk the trail. We don't rush, and it feels a little like time slows down.
"I’ve never seen anything like this,” I marvel, stopping to look at some of the intricately carved gourds. These aren’t just jack-o-lanterns but works of art.
"Neither did I. But then again, I'm not usually out taking romantic hikes by myself, so I wasn't really looking."
I lean my head on his shoulder as we stroll. "You aren't the sort of man to do romantic, are you?"
"No.” Dean pauses, rethinking. “Until now."
I bump him with my arm as we walk "And what makes me so special?"
His answer seems easy like he doesn't even have to think about it. "Because you're mine."
I go quiet, processing what he says and trying to come to terms with how hot and flustered it makes me.
I don't know how to respond. How do I even begin to address that?
Instead, I take a sip of the cider and let the silence settle over us. It's not uncomfortable exactly. Just full. Full of things neither of us are ready to say.
We're halfway through the pumpkin-lined trail and the silence has started to get the better of me. Dean and I walk hand in hand, but I can't stop thinking about his words.
I'm his.
What does that even mean? And more importantly, is it something I want?
"Stop," he rumbles, squeezing my hand. "Quit thinking so much. Just enjoy this."
I take a deep breath and let myself fall into the moment.
"That's it." His voice is warm, and his words are spoken low but close to my ear. He puts his hands on my shoulders and guides me to the bench on the side of the path, urging me to sit. Once I do, he sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. I snuggle in close.
"What are we doing?" I ask. "What are we doing, Dean?"
He doesn't respond right away, just looks up at the stars, and then takes my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “Right now, I’m kissing your hand.” He takes the cider from me and places it on the ground next to his. “And now, your mouth.”
I moan as I sink into the kiss, letting all the difficult thoughts fade away with the stroke of his tongue against mine. It’s chilly out, but he’s heating me up, biting at my bottom lip and moving from my mouth to my jaw.
“Now, your neck.” He does just that. Meanwhile, his hand drifts up my jacket and beneath my shirt.
Oh god. It feels so good, my skin burning where he touches me. I’m nearly on his lap as his hand plumps my breasts, finding my nipples with pinpoint accuracy and circling them slowly while he kisses me. The sensation sends pleasure straight to my core, and I moan into his mouth.
Dean’s other hand grazes the fly of my jeans, but just as he starts to undo them, we hear the crunch of leaves underfoot.
Another couple is rounding the bend in the trail, and I scramble off Dean, sitting on the bench once more and straightening my clothes. Oh my god, we’re acting like horny teenagers and almost got caught!
I look down at the ground, planning on ignoring the other couple until they’re out of sight, but the man stutters to a stop in front of us.
“Chief?”
Dean tenses and rises to his feet, holding out his hand for the other man to shake it. “Trevor. Nice to see you, Officer.” Trevor’s eyes flick down to me, and Dean quickly adds, “This is Delia.”
The other man, who must be Trevor, looks surprised, and then shocked. His date is none the wiser, but a chill is running down my spine at the way the man is looking at me. Like he knows me.
Maybe he does in a roundabout sort of way. It’s a small town after all.
“Like Brody’s Delia?” Trevor asks, immediately confirming my suspicions. My stomach drops to my feet and my cheeks heat.
“No.” Dean’s voice is low and gives me no room for argument. “Just Delia. My date.”
Still confused, Trevor looks between the two of us while his date tugs on his sleeve, urging him to continue the hike. “Oh, um. Well…cool. I guess I’ll see you at work, Chief?”
“Guess so,” Dean grumbles and watches Trevor like a hawk as the other couple finally departs.
Shaken, I stand, grabbing his arm and leaning into him heavily. “Who was that?”