Mercenary by Michele Mannon

Author:Michele Mannon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Swerve

CHAPTER NINETEEN: MADELYN

I press my forehead against the passenger-side window, basking in the glow of sunbeams reflecting off flat fields of wheat, spreading a warm, cozy golden hue across the early morning landscape. Times like this remind me how beautiful, how serene Oklahoma can be.

Declan rests a palm on my thigh. He placed it there less than a half hour into our trip. For someone who keeps his emotions close to his chest, he’s pretty generous with his hands.

I’m that irresistible.

I give myself a mental eye roll, then grin, thinking how that’s something Luciana would say.

Declan likes sex, that’s all. He’s probably thinking about taking me in the back of his pickup right now.

I glance at him from beneath my eyelashes. Yep, no bold, come-hither stares from me. Despite the bravado sounding off in my head, the truth is I’m feeling shy about the whole thing.

Him moving inside me. Me arching my hips, deepening our connection. Us climaxing in unison, his groan vibrating like a drawn-out piano chord against the sensitive part of my neck.

A flush warms my skin.

I wave my hand in front of my face. Hot memory, hot rise in body temperature. Sweet Mary, the man runs his thumb across the leather steering wheel and I’m aroused.

Although I’m wearing a short floral skirt that flutters when I move, matched with a sleeveless top that hugs all the right curves, the scant, light clothing provides no relief. I swear, I’m on charbroil. And the skin beneath his palm will be the first part of me to combust.

And Declan?

I turn to him once more, wondering what he’s thinking, and subtly watching him from beneath my eyelashes as he glides his thumb back and forth across the steering wheel.

Lord have mercy. Is this the unachievable afterglow Luciana seems to always be chasing, yet never quite reaches?

Does Declan feel it too?

“Want the window down?” he asks.

“Okay,” I squeak.

He hits the button on his door and my window lowers. I turn my face into the breeze made by his pickup thundering down the barren roadway.

It doesn’t help.

He runs a thumb lightly across my skin along the line of the hem of my skirt.

“Still warm,” he murmurs.

Uh, on fire. “Oklahoma summers. You know.”

To my disappointment, he removes his hand entirely. “Yeah, too goddamn well.”

“Are you hot?”

He doesn’t respond but instead shoots me a long, indecipherable look.

We fall silent, until he turns off the road leading into Dayton. “We’re making a pit stop first,” he says, before I can ask him about the change in plans.

“Hungry after all that . . . ?” Sex. I blush as my mind goes there, and it deepens when I realize that if his intentions leaned toward food, Dayton would be the best—and only—place to grab a meal.

His lips twitch. “You could say that.”

We stare at each other. Seconds pass, until his lips draw tight.

“Madelyn, don’t expect . . .”

I stiffen, and wait for him to continue.

Silence follows. He has nothing more to say, it seems. No confirmations. No denials.

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