“Now, that’s a request I can accommodate. Which exit am I headed to?”
Her cheeks lit with a radiant smile before she threw herself across the truck, sneaking a kiss at my neck.
I stifled a slow groan, long-dead arousal finally awakening.
“It’s the next exit.” I would have laughed, but Augusta Belle was sliding her hand through my beard, resting her fingertips along my jawline and brushing her lips across my cheekbone.
Hell, something about her touch lit a fire in my bones.
Swear I would die a happy man as long as I was in this woman’s arms.
Where I wouldn’t like to die at all was saving this woman as she swan-dived off a cliff face.
Something about Augusta Belle and adrenaline went hand in hand.
“Looks pretty fucking high from this vantage point,” I found myself mumbling a few miles later.
We were still driving up the dusty trail that led to the parking area when she squealed, pointing out my window as we both watched a brave swimmer launch themselves over the cliff.
I shuddered when he smacked the water.
“You’re insane.”
“Just keep driving. It looks amazing.”
“You’re the stubbornest woman I’ve ever known.”
“Thought I was the saddest?” She shot me a wild, heart-stopping grin.
“I’m revising my opinion.”
“Convenient.” She arched an eyebrow in challenge, and just as I was about to pull her across the seat and dive lips-first into her, she was pushing open the door and waving me on with her.
I shook my head, following her out of the parking lot and down the dirt path that led to the edge of the cliff.
She pulled her T-shirt over her head, triangles of a small black bikini peeking out at me.
She’d filled out a helluva lot since the last time I’d seen her in a bathing suit, and I liked it. Her soft curves begged for my fingertips, my teeth, all the love I had to spoil her with.
She pushed down her jeans, one leg at a time, before tossing them at me. “Hold my pants?”
I couldn’t help the laugh, eyes crinkling up before she blew me a kiss and spun, walking on confident steps to the edge of the cliff. She smiled at the few kids lingering around the edge, hanging out and watching as she hovered, taking in the water, imagining the drop, before she turned, throwing me a wink and then taking a few steps back before sprinting toward the edge. My heart suspended in midair, and my breath caught in my throat when she went over.
I’d seen her do this a hundred times over the years, but nothing ever prepared me for the moment she went over, free-falling into the abyss without any safety net to catch her.
I didn’t like it, but I was proud as hell of her every time she did it.
I wasn’t man enough to confront my fears as head on as she did.
“She’s cool as shit,” one of the kids mused, nodding at me.
I nodded. “Even cooler, man. I can’t keep up.”
He took me in with his eyes, my worn dark jeans with holes, tattered to the threads. Tattoos swallowing my hands and boots not meant for the Southern sun. But it didn’t seem to matter to him, and Augusta Belle certainly didn’t give a fuck about the way I looked.
Or at least, she’d never expressed a concern about it before. But walkin’ into any hotel we’d been to the last few days, anyone in their right mind probably thought I’d stolen her from the hand of God himself.
She was all sweet and soft and innocent porcelain features, the light to my dark all day long, and yet she was stronger than I could ever hope to be.
