Kensington Cove

Chapter 6: S1 Ethan: Rock-Hard Abs

Sadie Reed

Wisps of his hair tickle her face.

He smells like earth, woody, musky, coconutty, with a hint of patchouli, star anise, tonka

bean, and vanilla.

On the open road, she feels free, unburdened by the strings of her former life.

Live in the future, she thinks to herself, and leave the past where it belongs.

The vibration of the power between her legs sends a shiver down the length of her spine.

"You doin' okay?" The rich undertones of his voice cuts through the sound of the revving

engine.

"Oh, my God." A squeal leaves her lips. "I'm more than okay."

Riding on the back of the motorcycle is exhilarating but frightening at the same time.

She's been on dirt bikes before, but nothing compares to the thrill of riding on a

motorcycle.

Well, on a motorcycle with a hot guy with rock-hard abs.

He comes to another turn, rounds the corner, and her grip on his shirt slips, and her butt

slides across the smooth leather of the seat.

Fear shoots through her.

"Hold on tight." One-handed, he steers, placing the other behind him, cradling her to his

back.

She squeezes her thighs, pressing them against his jeans. Wrapping her arms around him,

her hands slide under the hem of his shirt.

Her fingers grip his abdomen.

His muscles ripple and contract under her touch, making the tips of her fingers sensitive

and tingle.

She feels a pull in her belly as if hundreds of butterfly wings take flight, fluttering about.

Something's happening. She can feel it.

The man, the bike, the mist - her mind wanders - somehow. It all seems familiar, but it

can't be.

Yet, she feels a connection akin to déjà vu. It's as if on this hour, this day, this moment,

fate intervened, bringing them together as one.

Great. Now I sound like a mystic eight-ball.

Her fingers fan over his right peck. A nail grazes his n****e, and he takes in a sharp breath.

A low, throaty growl reverberates deep in his chest.

The sound makes her heart flutter, and a small smile graces her lips.

At least now, I know I'm not the only one who feels the strong s****l pull.

Ethan comes to a three-way stop.

She wobbles on the seat and moves a leg. Toes pointed. She reaches for the asphalt.

"No. Keep your foot on the peg." He slides a hand across the side of her thigh, holding her

in place. "Or you'll throw off the balance."

"Sorry." She raises her leg and rests the sole of her shoe on the peg once again.

"Don't be." His touch makes her acutely aware of how intimately she's pressed against him.

"Now, you know."

When he relinquishes his hold, he brushes the tips of his fingers up the side of her thigh,

and her skin erupts in goose bumps.

"It's dark." The mist, now replaced by rain, hinders her visibility. "I don't see any lights."

"So, you gonna tell me where you're from, or do I need to guess?"

"San Antonio, Texas."

"Well, you won't find any city lights out here, at least, not until we're closer to town, which

is that way." He points to the highway. "And even those are minute." He pauses. "So, Sadie

Reed, what's our destination?" His voice is thick and desire-ridden.

"What?"

"Who're you visiting in Kensington Cove? Where are we going?"

"Actually, it's not in the city. It's the Novak Ranch."

Ethan glances over his shoulder, and his brows shoot up. "You don't say."

He takes off, and shards of rain blow in her face. She presses her cheek against his back,

using him as a shield.

Drawing in a deep breath, she breathes in his scent. Even in the rain, that earthy aroma

exudes undiluted from his body. It's an aroma she could get used to rather quickly.

After turning down a gravel road, Ethan travels another three-quarters of a mile. A line of

trees - mainly oak, ash, and cedar, which lead to dense forest - line the packed caliche path.

In the city, the rain smells of diluted exhaust, trash, and the meatpacking plant near the

transitional apartments she lived in, owned by the San Antonio Foster Care & Adoption Service

Agency.

"It's just over the hill." The wind howls through the trees, making it hard to hear his voice.

The top of the incline provides a glimpse of a fog-infused clearing. A faint outline of a roof

appears, followed by a large building.

Fog, thick and wet to the touch, lingers, making the air heavy.

"Why's it so dark?"

At the end of the driveway stands a two-story house, a barn, and a large covered carport

with a truck, a tractor, and what could be a mini bulldozer if she were to guess.

Ethan parks the motorcycle under the carport. "I haven't seen lights coming from this place

in months."

"Oh. Did you ever visit the owner, Roman Novak?" Sadie loosens her hold.

Cold air blows between their bodies, and she shivers.

"Yeah. Sometimes." His eyes skim the length of her legs, which are still hugging the sides

of the bike.

The wind picks up, and thick sheets of rain blanket the night.

"You said you didn't live far from here." A gust chills her exposed skin, and her goose-

pimpled flesh erupts with a new wave of goose bumps.

"I don't." He points toward a hill where a single bluish glow illuminates the night. "I live

there - where the light is."

"Come on." He offers a hand and helps her climb off the seat. Once she's free of the bike,

Ethan stands.

"Hold this a minute." Sadie shoves her purse into his hands.

"Yes, ma'am." A grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Where are you?" She digs through each pocket. "I know you're here, somewhere."

"Are you sure you're expected? The house is dark."

"Uhm. Yeah." Her focus remains on the backpack and the items within.

The butt of the handgun peeks out between the folds of the inner lining.

"Protection?" He clears his throat.

"Yep."

"Know how to use it?"

"Yeah. Point and squeeze."

He rubs the stubble on his chin. "What are you lookin' for?"

"Found it." She extracts her phone and uses it as a flashlight. "Now, to find . . ."

"Doesn't look like anybody's home."

"That's because there's no one else here but the two of us."

She shoves a hand in the oversized side pocket and feels around.

The post of an earring jabs the tip of her finger, and rectangular pieces of mint bubble gum

- free of the bonds of their plastic prison dispenser - roam free at the bottom of the compartment

along with lent, pens, jewelry, and a few paperclips.

"Found them." She shakes a set of keys. "Let's go."

She shoulders the purse and runs out from under the carport.

"Wait up." A clash of thunder consumes his words.

Rain pelts her shoulders, face, and back, then trickles down her neck.

Flipping the collar of the jacket, she covers her ears, hoping to stop the flow of fluid

drenching her blouse.

Square pavers offer a path through the torrential rain, but halfway to the front door, a

stream of water swallows three of them, at least, by her estimation, and if they continue the same

distance between them.

Once in the house, should I send him on his way or not?

Inviting him inside is the least she could do.

Plus, it's really raining now, with the motorcycle . . .

He's a stranger, though. It's not as if she really knows anything about him other than he

wears leather and what he drives. Hell, he could be an ax murder waiting for a chance to pounce.

Pounce. The word has so many meanings: to jump on, swoop upon and seize, or a fine

powder once used to prevent ink from spreading - often used for creating stenciled patterns.

Of those, the first of the three definitions, "jump on," blankets her mind.

Hmm. Would it be so bad if he pounces? A grin tugs at her lips. Could be fun from a

research perspective.

She's always avoided the 'bad boy' type. Annie, the only foster parent she considered a

motherly figure worth trusting, used to point guys like Ethan out.

Now, you steer clear of a buck like that. She'd shake an aged finger in the air. Them

young'uns only want what's between your legs, girl. So, when they come a-knockin,' ya send 'em

packin'.

That placement, which was one of the happiest, had lasted eighteen months - a massive

coronary ended that stent.

In front of a growing puddle of water that resembles a fast-moving stream, she comes to a

complete stop.

On the heels of her feet, Ethan bumps into her, sending her sliding ankle-deep into the

brown-colored fluid.

"What do you mean, there's no one else here?" He wraps an arm around her waist, keeping

her on her feet. "Where's Roman?"

A flash of lightning streaks across the night sky, illuminating the night. A clash of thunder

soon follows it.

"He, uhm . . ." A howl fills the night, and Sadie freezes in her tracks. She clutches his arm

and stares into the blackness, searching. "What was that?"

The eerie sound echoes around her again, but this time, two more cries join in. One higher-

pitched, and the other drawn out - like a tornado warning system - the unnerving clamor makes

the fine hairs on her neck stand on end.

"You don't want to know." Ethan grabs her by the arm, and he half drags her toward the

house. "We need to get inside. Now."