Page 48 of Fly Back to Me
His palm flips upward, waiting for me to take it. I inch forward, heat popping between my skin and the fabric of his mitt, and he murmurs the first direction. Then my right leg swings over the seat.
My skirt bunches up, the image anything but innocent as I awkwardly shift my crotch along the rear of the vinyl. He crouches, palming a metal ledge at the bottom of the bike. “Plant your foot right here, and there’s a foot peg on the other side.”
I follow through on his next set of commands, my boots resting flat on both platforms. “Are they too small? It feels weird. I don’t kn—”
He chuckles lightly. “I promise you they’re not too small.”
My teeth ghost my bottom lip when he lifts himself from the ground. “Helmet on,” he mutters, spotting my hands as I slip it over my head. “You want to make sure it sits level and covers your forehead.”
His palms maneuver the shell until I feel pressure an inch above my brows. Then his fingers pull the adjustment strap, the material gently biting into my skin under my chin. He wiggles the equipment softly, ensuring my safety before he straddles the front of the seat. Then he looks over his shoulder, pausing his mission. “Arms around me.”
Gladly.
A thrust of fire drives through me when my chest melts to his back, the cool leather of his jacket preventing me from thawing completely. My hands are shy at first, palms settling lightly on his solid torso before he crisscrosses both forearms for me. Then he retrieves his Suddora bandana from his pocket, fastening it around his head before starting the bike.
The jolt of the engine molds my body further into him, a deep pulsing “pop-pop” growling underneath us.
“You should ride on a motorcycle more often. It’s not a bad look for you.”
I smirk at the relaxed insinuation, my head rotating to the side so I can rest my helmet on his back.
Then he rides us off through the biting wind.
Chapter 19
Olivia
The wheels rumble to a stop on the patchy ground, cedar from the surrounding trees knitting through the air. When I remove the helmet to hand over to Cade, I brush my fingers through the soft curls of my high ponytail.
My eyes connect with the desolate mound of land, treetop silhouettes lining the guardrail of the overlook. I swing my leg over the back of the bike, greeted with a large spreading tree to the right.
A grin rises from my lips, fingers tugging the hem of my miniskirt as I march over to the guardrail. A tiny, yellow globe rotates in the distance against the dusk, and I assume we’re not too far from the coast.
My chin slopes toward the dusted sky. Even if I wanted to trace all the clusters of stars, there’s too many to keep track of. At least in this region.
A starlit umbrella just for us.
“How long have you been riding?” I ask, unmoving.
“Since I was twenty. Nine years.”
“Why not a car?”
“I like the speed. The freedom of the open road,” he answers.
“It’s dangerous,” I state.
“Danger doesn’t scare me easily.”
I peer over my shoulder, catching him propping his forearm on a handlebar. His solid gray flannel peeks from his open leather coat above dark denim, one black boot crossed in front of the other. The look grungy and refined at the same time, especially with the Suddora bandana he’s still rocking.
Ugh.
But my eyes hood when a small, orange bulb illuminates from his lips.
“Clearly,” I deadpan. “You’re willing to get cancer.”
He blows out a line of smoke to his side, the thick cloud dissolving instantly into the midnight. “I don’t smoke often at all, actually. Plus, I thought I’d toss any temptation off the table.”
