Page 39 of Rocky Top

I smoothed my shirt down, cheeks flaming. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Timings a bitch.”

He rushed to me, kissed me once more, slow and lingering, his thumb brushing my cheek like I was something delicate. All while giving me a taste of myself. I didn’t hate. It was fucking, nasty. Hot as hell.

“You’re dangerous, woman,” he murmured.

Lord have mercy.

What was I even doin’?

Fallin’.

Fast.

And I didn’t wanna hit the brakes.

Then, I got to ride up with him. He led me toward the chopper, a sleek little bird with shiny blades and his personal touches all over it. His name painted under the cockpit. A wolf emblem etched into the side.

I went up with his paying passengers. The Smoky Mountains spread out below us in waves of blue and green, valleys curling around hills like the folds of a secret letter. He pointed out landmarks, told stories, and even let me steer for a second. Under his guiding hand of course.

“I feel like I’m flying,” I whispered.

“You are,” he said, eyes on the horizon.

I wasn’t the only one. The eight-year-old boy got to steer next.

I realized I was watching him more than the view.

His hands. His focus. His easy control of something so powerful.

That was Rocky.

Powerful. But careful.

And when he looked at me, I felt seen. Desired.Safe.

By the time we landed, the sun was sinking low, painting the sky in gold and plum. Rocky walked me back to his Halrey in silence, but it wasn’t awkward.

It was full. Full of everything we didn’t do.

When he helped me on, our hands brushed, and I felt it again.

That thing between us.

That heat.

That hunger.

Back at my place, he parked at the curb and handed me the helmet.

“You good?” he asked.

I nodded. “More than.”

He reached up, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks for comin’ today.”

“Thanks for taking me, today. It was… one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.”

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