Page 107 of Fly Back to Me
“Olivia?” His voice springs my head up, a glove-clad hand combing through his hair. “Shut up and get on the bike.”
“You’re playing with fire, you know that, right?” I ask.
He holds a palm out before I press mine into it. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”
“They’re about four hundred dollars,” I retort as I swing a leg over behind him. “But okay, if you insist. I ain’t saying no to that.”
“Small price to pay for your high-maintenance ass,” he mutters playfully.
I smirk as I nestle my chin on his leather-clad shoulder, my hair dangling to the side as I stare at his side profile. “So, where are we going?”
His chin dips as he inhales a breath, and he’s adjusting the straps of his gloves. “Do you trust me?”
All humor is hollowed out of his question, my brows dippingas I witness his jaw grow tense.
“With every part of me,” I whisper.
“Good.” He nods gently, our gazes now joined. “Because there’s something I want to do for you. And I really need you to have faith in me.”
A pinch of anxiety grows in my stomach amongst all the butterflies. But whatever fear of the unknown I harbor, I know I want to tackle it with him. No one else. Whatever moment he has in store, it was meant for us. Only us.
“Give me a sec. It always takes me a minute to plant my feet,” I grumble.
His soft smile appears when he rotates to snake a hand around my waist. “Okay, sit straight,” he says, pressing into the leather of my jacket.
The vinyl seat grates against my crotch as I do, and then he’s bending to cup my calf. He lifts it to rest the bottom of my heel on the aluminum ledge, the gesture brewing a wet warmth in my panties.
I peek at my right side, locating the same platform to lay my other foot on. “I should be ready to ride this thing by tomorrow, don’t you think?” I joke.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be riding something,” he quips, helping me slide the gear over my head.
Chapter 39
Olivia
The motor cuts underneath us, jolting me to open my eyes. My helmet presses into Cade’s back, arms still tangled around his tight stomach when I scan the brick building.
I lift my gaze higher behind the tinted visor, greeted with the amber neon lights of the sign to a bar—Whispers & Whiskey.
Newbridge.
We’re in Newbridge.
My body stuns against his, adhering like cement as my lungs paralyze. “Cade,” I croak.
He fidgets in my embrace to peel his helmet and gloves off, my fingers fastening around his leather like the claws of a talon. “Have you been here since it happened?”
I crunch my eyes closed, simply shaking my head when my voice fails me.
“I have. Once,” he says. “I guess you were on my mind as much as I was on yours.”
His palms sheathe my hands at his stomach, the chafing of his rugged skin inserting an equilibrium inside my body.
“I didn’t bring you here to dwell on an awful memory. I brought you here to replace it,” he says. “But if you want me to turn around and take you back, we can do that too.”
Replace it?
My eyes open, a chill streaming down my spine when I see the cast iron Victorian lamp post. Every detail of the village digs up a buried nightmare.
