Page 47 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

“Yeah?”

I crossed the room, not caring that the cold night air was chasing away the fire’s warmth and stepped into his space.

Standing before him in my bare feet, his tall, strong body shrouded mine. He made me feel small—safe and protected. He made me feel free to be myself.

Easton made me feel. Period.

I wasn’t ready for him to go and take the feeling with him. Not yet. Not when I’d been numb for so long and with him here, I was alive.

“I’m sorry.”

His forehead furrowed. “For what?”

“For leaving like I did. After that night, I shouldn’t have snuck away without a goodbye.”

“It’s fine.” His gaze was unreadable. “We were young. It was just a hookup.”

Except it hadn’t been a hookup.

Easton had been my first.

Not that I’d been a virgin, but he’d been the one I’d chosen. Me.

When I was fourteen and still living at home, I’d lost my virginity to a guy who’d worked as a clerk at the gas station close to my neighborhood. I’d ridden my bike over to get away from my mother for a few hours. I’d gone in to use the bathroom and he’d stopped me on the way out. He’d asked if I wanted a case of beer, offering to sell it to me even though he’d known I hadn’t been twenty-one.

I’d picked wine instead because my mother served her boyfriends beer. And they were trash. I was going to be classy and that meant drinking wine—or it had to my fourteen-year-old brain. The boy had sold it to me, and I’d stayed at the gas station drinking while he’d finished his Saturday shift.

Then, in a dark alley that had smelled like garbage, I’d let him take my virginity in the backseat of his car.

That boy hadn’t been my choice. Yes, I’d picked him, but not because I’d been attracted to him or liked him or could remember his name. I’d picked him simply so I could give my virginity, not have it taken. I’d been terrified that eventually one of the men Mom had brought around would take me against my will.

I knew that eventually, one of them wouldn’t be satisfied when she made me watch or when she made me touch.

But Easton, he’d been mine.

He’d been the first man I’d desired.

There’d been countless nights since when I’d remember the feel of being in his arms and how he’d held me. How he’d kissed me with tenderness and how he’d cherished my body.

The morning I’d left his bed, before the sun had risen, my footsteps had never been heavier.

Easton had been so good to me. He’d set the standard for future men in my life and not one had measured up.

No, it hadn’t been a hookup.

That night had been my everything.

“Hookup or not, thank you.” I placed a hand over his heart. “That night meant a lot to me.”

Easton studied me, trying to figure out where this was coming from. Maybe he’d eventually figure me out, as it seemed like he was trying.

Maybe if he did, he could clue me in because I was as fucked up now as I’d been at sixteen.

My hand rose and fell with the rise of his chest. My fingers looked tiny compared to the breadth of his shoulders. Through the cotton of his shirt, his heart pulsed in steady beats and the heat of his skin warmed mine. I let the spark between us sink deep into my veins.

Easton covered my hand with one of his, trapping me to him. “What do you want, Gem?”

A place.