Page 66 of The Hangman's Rope

I was hot, sweaty, and unbelievably tired from the long ride; although the wind whipping around us felt so good, like if I closed my eyes and fell asleep, it would support me gently like a lover, holding me close.

Of course, my logical and very real terror at watching the pavement whip below us at its frantic pace, and knowing what that same pavement would do to my skin were I to fall off… Or something equally as stupid and tragic were to occur, and how muchthatwould hurt? Well, it kept me wide awake until the last of the ride and the final destination sort of surprised me; even though that was stupid, and it really shouldn’t.

He pressed a button on his key fob and the man-sized rolling door trundled open in front of us.

“Hang on, Sweetpea,” he said and I tightened my grip around him once more as he put us into motion to roll through it, and into a spacious garage where other bikes, cars, and even trucks were parked. He wheeled us around and tapped my leg twice, which I correctly guessed was some sort of signal to get off.

“Watch the pipes!” he called sharply as I made to get down and I did, very carefully, as I was sure they would burn right through the denim of my jeans.

I stepped back a couple quick paces and he backed the big motorcycle against the wall, cutting the engine and toggling some kind of switch by his foot before heeling down the rest for it to lean on.

He went for his chin strap on his open-faced helmet and I followed suit, scrabbling at my own with my fingers trying to figure out how it went to get it off.

I watched as Hangman turned his upside down into a bowl, sitting it in his lap and stripping off the fingerless gloves he wore, tossing them down into the helmet. He raked a hand through his flattened hair, that was damp with sweat at his temples and the back of his neck and I both ached and longed for a shower… and I know it was probably all sorts of wrong for one reason or another, but I longed to take it with him. Like that first time, when he’d cleaned me up after my nightmare… only with him in a lot less clothes, pressed up against me; our tongues mingling.

Jesus, Lorelai… he’s probably not interested in all of that!I thought fiercely to myself, but it hadn’t tasted like it. Not when he’d kissed me in the hospital’s parking garage.

Every time I closed my eyes and thought of the way he’d kissed me; my lips would faintly tingle at the memory of the touch of his. It was an oddly comforting thing, and now here we were, back again, and who knew what would come of things now… all I knew, was that it felt like a thousand-pound boulderhad been lifted off my shoulders and I already felt like I couldbreathebetter.

He looked over to where I stood, still trying to figure out the chin strap I couldn’t see, and he got up and came to me.

“Here, stop that,” he said, gently batting my fingers away. He reached up and simply squeezed it and the clip came apart and I felt like an idiot.

Getting that damn thing off my head feltso good. In fact, the first thing I did when he lifted it off of me was take in a deep and cleansing breath, like the astronauts did in the movies once they got their stupid round fishbowl helmets off of them.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured as I went to try and lift the strap of my bag off. His fingers went to it and he loosened it for me first. “There you go,” he said.

I lifted it over my head and he took it with his free hand that was unoccupied by the bulbous helmet.

“You’re good,” he said with a chuckle and I tried to give him a brave smile, like that whole thing hadn’t affected me, but I’m afraid what I managed was very watered down and unconvincing. He laughed at me and asked, “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I shook my head, “Terrifying,” I said haltingly, “but like, I don’t know… rollercoaster scary but real scary too because of the higher stakes.”

He chuckled and set the helmet up on a high shelf along the back wall, taking a few strides away from me to do it. He immediately came back to me and wrapped that arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tight against him. I wound my arms around his waist and tucked my ear against his heart, closing my eyes as he kissed the top of my hair.

I clung to him in the unfamiliar garage and he held me tight, running a hand up and down the leather covering my back.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured into my hair.

“I’m tired,” I said quickly.

“Probably be a little sore tomorrow,” he said. “Come on and let’s get you home and into a hot shower, huh?”

“Take it with me?” I asked, stiffening that the question so easily slipped out of my mouth and into the out loud…

“I’d like that,” he said softly, “but only if you feel like you’re ready to both get naked and have me naked right along with you.”

I looked up into his golden-green eyes so filled with a silent strength and compassion but also very guarded.

“I feel safe with you,” I confessed. “If it were anyone else, I don’t think I would even suggest it.”

He smiled down at me and lowered his mouth to mine and I couldn’t help but make a startled sound against his lips.

I smoothed my hands against the leather covering his waist, bringing them around to his front so I could slide them beneath his jacket along his solid frame, over the so-soft material of his tee shirt.

He groaned into my mouth and delved his tongue deeper into it, passing between my teeth and stroking along mine which I darted into his mouth to taste him some more.

I shuddered against him, which had nothing to do with fatigue or the cold – even though it was heavily air-conditioned in here and almost a shock after the heat and humidity of the outside.

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