Page 46 of Rocky Top

I leaned into him without thinking. “Yeah. I think I am.”

But my heart was still beating fast. Because I’d seen something in Rocky tonight, something possessive, maybe even dangerous.

And God help me, I wanted more.

Regardless, I went to bed alone again. We spent the next day riding, just us and the wind. The wind tore through my hair as we climbed the back roads on his Harley, the sunset turning everything golden-orange, like God had dropped glitter over the trees.

I clung to Rocky’s waist, my cheek pressed against the leather of his cut, breath catching every time we leaned into a curve. There was something about riding with him that made the world go quiet. Like every bad thing I’d ever carried just drifted off in the wind.

He slowed when we hit a turnout overlooking the valley. The mountains sprawled below us, dusk settling like a soft blanket. He cut the engine, and the silence pressed in, only it wasn’t uncomfortable.

He got off first, offering me his hand like a gentleman, which was hilarious, considering how often I’d caught him cursing at inanimate objects. I took it anyway, letting him pull me close as I hopped down in my boots. We were alone up here, with the gorgeous sky and the smell of pine and leather and him. God, him.

“Pretty spot,” I said softly.

“You like the view?” he asked, not looking at the mountains.

I turned in his arms. “Yeah, it’s alright,” I teased.

He smirked, and before I could say something else smart, he kissed me.

Slow at first. Gentle. Like he was testing the edges of something dangerous. But then he deepened it, hand curling into my hair, the other pressing low on my back, pulling me into the heat of him. Against his erection. His big erection. Holy shit. My knees nearly buckled. I kissed him like I needed to breathe him in. Like every nerve in my body had been waiting for this man to touch me.

Like they had.

And then.

His hands cupped my ass.

I slid my hand to the bulge in his pants.

Rocky groaned into my mouth.

He broke the kiss.

Abrupt.

Too fast.

His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a marathon. He took a step back, like I’d burnedhim.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my lips tingling.

He didn’t meet my eyes. “We should head back.”

“Did I… do something?”

“Nah.” His jaw ticked, like he was wrestling with something bigger than me. “Just… I wanna take this slow.”

Slow.

That word cracked something in my chest.

All this time I thought he was the kind of man who kissed hard and didn’t look back. Who didn’t have a slow gear.

And now, he wanted to pump the brakes?

He handed me my helmet, quiet-like. I took it, confused and stung.

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