Page 3 of Riding the Sugar High

I take her hand in mine, the pink scrunchie trapped between our palms. It makes her smile in a soft way and—fuck. I like that. Focusing on her is distracting me enough that my breathing is almost back to normal.

“So good. Just like that, deep breaths.” Cute dimples appear on her cheeks. “Two more.”

She’s so pretty. I wish this wasn’t happening in front of her, and at the same time, I’m thankful she just ran me over because the tingle under my skin is disappearing, and adrenaline is replacing the strangling fear.

My other arm moves up, then my hand is holding on to the back of her neck, and I only realize my heart rate has slowed down because it picks up again. What am I doing? Maybe Ididhit my head, because as her relieved expression dissipates and her eyes dance over my lips, I think I want to kiss her. I think she wants me to kiss her too.

“One.”

With a slow pull, I drag her forward until her mouth is on mine. I guess it’s technically two movements because my lips dance on hers. Three, when my fingers shift to her hair and use it to direct her the way I want her.

Her hands fist my shirt, and her body roams closer until her chest is pressed on mine. I slide my hand down to the spot over her ass, urging her closer.

Fuck, this is a kiss. A proper kiss.

A kiss like only a few others in a lifetime.

The road is pitch black except for the moonlight, casting gentle shadows and illuminating patches of wildflowers. With only the symphony of nighttime creatures around us, the delicate sounds of our subtle breaths and pressed lips are all I can hear.

Her tongue keeps teasing mine, and with each flick, I want to deepen our contact. I want to flip us over and do more, as if we’re not sitting in the middle of a road on the town’s outskirts.

With a soft moan drowned by my mouth, she pulls back a little, and her eyes look nothing like they did when she was helping me through my panic attack. They were sharp-focused then, and they’re cloudy now. Hungry and pleased at the same time.

God, I can just picture those eyes looking up at me while I take her.

She opens her mouth, and I glance at the bright pink lipstick smeared over her chin. Her lips are swollen, bruised by my kiss, and the skin around her mouth is red with the friction of my beard.

“That’s a very unhealthy way to process your anxiety,” she whispers, and I nearly laugh, but it’s like my body’s too tense for it, my fingers rubbing the scrunchie I’m somehow holding. “Did it work? Did all your blood rush from your brain to your groin?”

“Yes.” But I haven’t kissed anyone in five years, and I’m unsure how to behave now. The woman nearly killed me, then saved my life, and then I kissed her. And I can’t bring myself to check my bike, because I’m pretty sure that will cancel out my gratitude for her.

“You shouldn’t be riding. Can someone come pick up your bike? I’ll drive you home.”

As if. “I’m not leaving my bike.”

“You’re joking, right?” She scoffs as I tentatively stand, then locate my helmet next to a bush. “Ah, so youdohave one of those.” Following me, she powers on. “You can’t get back on that bike right now. It could happen again—it’s not safe.”

“I doubt getting in a car with you would be safer,” I say distractedly as I dust the helmet off.

A sense of dread tightens my chest when I turn to the bike and force myself to walk closer. After I pull it up, I run my fingers along the frame, feeling the imperfections beneath my touch. The once smooth surface now bears scratches and dents, and one of the mirrors hangs at an awkward angle. But overall, the damage seems primarily cosmetic.

Relief floods through me, and besides some stiffness in my muscles and a sense of sleepiness, it’s almost as if whatever that...attack was, never happened. My heart is back to its normal rhythm; my vision is sharp. Like it’s all been a nightmare.

“Seriously? You’re being very irresponsible.”

“Who, me?” I ask as I give her a dry smile. “That would be a first.”

She crosses her arms, tilting her head as her eyes gently scold me. “So that’s it? You involve me in an accident, thenkissme, and now you’re going to head off into the sunset?” Eyes bouncing around, she shrugs. “Or...night?”

“Look, what do you want? A date or something?”

“Who says I don’t have a boyfriend already?”

Oh, shit. She has me there. And though she definitely kissed me back, it doesn’t feel right to know I’ve kissed someone else’s girl. “Uh, sorry, I...”

“I don’t.” She taps a foot on the ground. “I’m just saying.”

Saying what, exactly? “Okay, well...I’d ask for your number, but trust me, you don’t want me to call.” I slide my helmet on. “And besides, you’re not from around here.” I’d remember her if I had seen her before. “Judging by your accent, you’re not from Roseberg either.”

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