Azalea
Liam and I were on our way back to the packhouse. We had spent the rest of our night eating and relaxing. He watched TV while I read a book with my head in his lap. He was the perfect gentleman and did not tease me anymore. I did get a lot of sweet kisses throughout the night. It also did not go unnoticed that he always had a hand on me in some way, holding my hand, holding my waist, rubbing me. All our time together was clearly erasing all the stress and anxiety he felt after I left him at the lake house and got kidnapped.
Now we sat in his SUV on the long drive back to the pack. Our hands were interlaced, and he was absentmindedly running his thumb over my knuckles. We had been riding in comfortable silence for a little while, listening to the radio play some pop songs.
“Liam
