Olivia Westview
The drive from Sinclair Industries to Glendive was quiet.
James’s Aston Martin purred beneath us as we cruised the empty streets. The rhythm of the drive was soothing, but the tension between us only seemed to grow with each passing mile.
I sat beside him, my hands resting on my lap, but my mind was anything but still. I kept catching myself glancing at him from the corner of my eye. He was focused on the road, but I could feel the undercurrent of desire humming between us, a current we both seemed to be trying to ignore but could never fully escape.
Every so often, I would catch a glimpse of his profile. I wondered what he was thinking, but I knew better than to ask. He had this way of keeping everything close to the chest, revealing only what he wanted you to know. I
