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Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Fight or Flight
  3. Praise for New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young
  4. ALSO BY SAMANTHA YOUNG
  5. Epigraph
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. Twenty-Five
  31. Twenty-Six
  32. Twenty-Seven
  33. Twenty-Eight
  34. Epilogue
  35. Acknowledgments
  36. Readers Guide
  37. Excerpt from FIGHT OR FLIGHT
  38. About the Author
  39. What’s next onyour reading list?

Nodding, he slid his hand to the nape of my neck and gave it a comforting squeeze. “That makes sense, angel.”

Settling my head on his chest again, I traced little patterns on his abdomen, and we lay there in perfect silence. Then I had a thought. “Do you think Bobby came back?”

“He must have. He would have called if he hadn’t found the sheep.”

“Do . . . do you think he heard anything?” Neither of us had exactly been quiet.

Roane shook with laughter. “I could give a shit, angel.”

“Maybe I care.” But I really didn’t.

“You don’t. You enjoyed yourself too much to care.”

“Cocky.”

“I have every right to be. No woman has come as hard around me as you just did.”

At the mention of other women, I thought of the last couple of months I’d spent getting to know this man. Although it felt like he knew almost everything about me, I didn’t know as much about him. I knew who he was as a person, but his past was made up of vague information he’d dispensed every now and then. Roane Robson was more of a listener than a talker. But I wanted to know more.

“You said before you’ve only had a few relationships. Tell me about them.”

He tensed beneath me. “You . . . you want to hear about other women while you’re naked in bed with me?”

I chuckled at his incredulous tone. “Roane, you never talk about yourself. I just want to know more. If you don’t want to tell me about the other women, then tell me about your parents. What was it like growing up here? Because in my mind it must have been idyllic.”

Little goose bumps prickled along my arm as he began to trace lazy circles on my skin. “I have a wonderful mum and dad. Like Milly and Dex, they struggled to conceive, but I eventually came along five years into their marriage. They tried again but it just never happened. Despite the farm, Dad’s family had a long tradition of sending their sons off to boarding school. Dad went, and my grandfather, who died when I was two, made it clear that’s what he wanted for me too. But Mum put her foot down and instead I went to school in Alnster and then to the high school in Alnwick, spent my summers learning about the farm.