Page 41 of Captured Love

I swallow. Fantastic. Now I have to deal with him being hot and helpful.

“There,” he murmurs, stepping back. “Fits.”

I roll my eyes. “What, no matching leather jacket to complete the look?”

Knox chuckles, before putting his own helmet on. He taps the side of it before reaching over to tap mine. “These have built-in comms,” he says. “Mic’s already on. Just talk.”

My eyebrows lift. “So you did think ahead.”

He grins. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

Before I can respond—not that I have a good comeback for that—he swings onto the bike and nods for me to get on.

“All right, let’s go over a couple things before you get on,” he says. “Step up from the left side, and when you sit, keep your feet on the pegs. Stay close, but don’t lean too much, or we’ll tip.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so you do care if we crash?”

“I like my bike in one piece.”

I scowl, but I step up carefully, gripping his shoulder for balance as I swing my leg over the seat. Knox steadies me with a hand on my waist, not letting go until I’m settled.

Once I’m on, I hesitate, my hands hovering awkwardly before I finally give in and wrap them around his waist.

Knox snorts through the mic. “Selene, I’m not made of glass. You’re gonna want to hold on tighter.”

I grit my teeth, but do as he says, my arms tightening around him. The second I do, he revs the engine, the sound is like a deep growl beneath us that makes my stomach flip.

Then his voice slides into my ears. "Welcome to a very exciting evening.”

And just like that, we take off. My heart pounds in time with the hum of the engine, and I can’t decide if it’s from the thrill of the ride or the man I’m holding onto.

It could be both. Damn, what the hell have I gotten myself into?

My thoughts come to a halt when Knox’s voice crackles through the helmet mic, breaking the silence between us. “So, how have you been since I saw you at the gym?”

I adjust my grip around his waist, trying not to think about how hard and strong he feels beneath my hands. Focus.

“Busy. Classes, work, trying to keep up with everything. I assume you’ve been doing the same—plus hockey?”

“Yeah, I’m just happy to be playing again. Having to sit out with a shoulder injury was rough. Thankfully, it was mild.”

Knox takes a smooth turn onto Main Street, the main strip in town where all the best restaurants and stores are. The streets are strung with white faerie lights, even though we still have a few weeks until the holidays really kick off. The glow reflects off the glossy black and white of the bike, making everything feel a little more surreal.

“I’m glad you're back in action,” I say, meaning it.

For a second, he doesn’t respond. Then his voice comes through the mic, slightly softer.

“Thanks. It means a lot.”

A beat of silence, just the low rumble of the engine beneath us. Then he speaks again. “You should come to a game sometime.”

Dangerous territory. Because it could be even more public than tonight depending on what we are doing and where we are going.

“We’ll see,” I say, deliberately noncommittal.

Knox doesn’t push it. Instead, I feel his body shift slightly as he leans into the next turn. My gaze drops, catching the way his hands flex against the handlebars. Is it weird to like someone’s hands? Because suddenly, I do.

In high school, I dated this guy Jason for a hot minute, and I thought he had the nicest hands in existence. Until now. Knox's hands are strong yet precise, gripping the throttle with a casual confidence that makes something in my chest tighten. Hands that could—and have—ruined me for anyone else.

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