Page 5 of The Overdue Kiss

“The fabric is too taut to move with my legs . . . um . . . in this position.”

“Good. Now wrap your arms around my waist and hold on.”

I swallow nervously.Don’t make this a big deal, Maya.

“Okay,” I mumble. The movement has me sliding forward, nearly smushing us together. I try to shimmy backward, but he lifts the kickstand and takes off. The sudden movement causes my arms to bear-hug his waist, and I collide into his back. “That was a reflex, sorry.”

“You’re fine. Just don’t squeeze too hard or I won’t be able to breathe. Also try to lean into the turns when I do.”

My grip tightens on the first curve, the bike tilting toward the ground. One of his hands rests over both of mine clutching the fabric at his waist.

“You okay? Do you need me to slow down?”

“No, I’m getting used to it now.”

It’s true. My muscles relax with each twist and turn down the mountain road. The worrisome thoughts float away as my trust in Desmond grows with each passing mile marker. Not sure when it happened, but it’s like we’re one person, leaning into another turn together. He picks up speed on the straightaway, and adrenaline rushes through my veins like electricity, nearly taking my breath away. I hold on tighter, wanting the feeling to never stop.

A cool breeze whips through us, a gentle reminder that autumn is around the corner. He wasn’t lying about the chill. Thankfully he offered his jacket, because even with it on, the wind has an icy bite. Leaning in, I snuggle closer to his warmth.

It takes me half a second to register what I’m doing before I rear back.

He’s someone’s boyfriend, Maya.

“Sorry... I guess I got a little too comfortable.”

“No need to apologize.” He pats my fists, reminding me I still have his shirt balled up in my hands. “Relax and enjoy the ride.”

Gentling my hold, I force my fingers to spread out naturally over his abs. I can feel each ridge through his flimsy dress shirt.Oh, goodness.I’m not sure this was what he meant when he told me to relax.

“Is this okay? I’m not sure what to do.”

“It’s perfect,” he says, his voice deeper than before. “You’re doing great—a natural, really.”

I know he’s lying, but I appreciate where his heart is at.

“Thank you, Desmond.”

“Just Des.”

He taps my hand, summoning the butterflies again.

A small smile tugs at my lips, and I’m thankful he can’t see me swooning behind him. Since my disastrous breakup, I’ve been worried it would be years until I could feel that spark with anyone else. It’s a relief to know my heart is ready even if my brain is not—especially not with someone else’s man. Perhaps I need to lay off the romance books in the meantime...

Before I can embarrass myself further, I turn my head toward the last strip of the setting sun, its warm glow illuminating the trees. I swear this is like a scene from one of my books—the pink sorbet horizon is too perfect to be real.

But if Felipe taught me anything, it’s that if it seems too good to be true, then it probably is.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, unable to stop myself.

“It’s my favorite time of day to ride. You get the best views from a motorcycle. Sometimes it feels like I’m chasing the sun.” He lifts his hand as if he could reach the fading ball of light.

We fall into a companionable silence, listening to the rumbles of the engine. If it didn’t snow so much in Colorado, I’d consider saving up for a bike myself. It’s freeing in a way I didn’t expect.

I groan when he slows to take the exit for Rocosa. He responds with a chuckle through our connecting speaker.

We turn off the main road into what feels like another world. Planters of blooming flowers dot the sidewalks, and fairy lights are strung from evenly spaced aspens all the way down Main Street. To my right, a red Victorian-looking house sits regally at the dead end. But Des veers left, barely hitting the throttle as we slowly pass the glowing storefront windows. Wooden business signs hang above their doors, adding to the town’s old-fashioned appeal.

It’s almost as if I traveled back in time.

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