This wasnotthe time to swoon.
I was on a mission; I had to get to Houston. I had to disappear before the Stone pack caught up to me. And even looking too long in this alpha’s direction could come with a slew of consequences I wasn’t ready to face.
With a shaky breath, I stepped closer, still clutching the helmet to my chest for dear life. I'd never been on a motorcycle—never had much of an interest in riding one either. I was terrified of anything with less than four wheels, especially at high velocity. Apparently, fleeing for my life and possibly killing my father wasn’t enough of an adrenaline rush this week.
Now, I’d be clinging to the back of a neon-green crotch rocket and trying not to die.
“Fuck my life,” I muttered.
I swallowed down my fear and pushed back my hood, quickly shoving the helmet on. It smelled like him, his candy-apple scent wrapping around my head and stuffing its way into my lungs. Breathing through my mouth barely helped because I could almost taste him.
Fingers trembling as his scent threatened to drive me insane, I fussed with the chin strap. No way was I going to ask Revel for help—even though I didn’t hate the idea of his hands near my neck. I doubted I’d be able to fight back the whine clawing up my throat if he was touching me.
Seriously, what the hell is my problem?
I stepped up next to the bike, nervously eyeing the tiny second seat—if you could call it that—behind him. I was petite, but I had wide hips and a bubble butt. Did he really expect me to fit more than one cheek up there?
“Get on.” His sharp words cut through my thoughts, and I snapped to attention. It wasn't a bark, but there was just enough of an edge to his tone that it made my hair stand on end.
I did as I was told and climbed on behind him while he kept the motorcycle steady, nearly slipping a few times before I got settled. Being perched on the back of the bike felt unstable as hell, and my heart lurched into my throat. A slight breeze would probably send me tumbling off this thing, and he was going to speed down the highway?
I swallowed hard.
My options were extremely limited. It was this or wait for someone else to take pity on me… and who knew how long that would take?
“I can do this,” I whispered, barely audible to my own ears.
I took a deep breath, choking down a lungful of candied apples. Then another.
I can do this.
I can… do this.
I can…
“Hang on tight,” Revel called over his shoulder, but I had no idea what I was supposed to hold on to. There were obviously no seatbelts and definitely not a second set of handlebars.
The second we started moving, I squeaked and threw my arms around his thick torso, clinging to him so tightly my arms ached. I thought about calling out an apology, but nausea rolled in my stomach, and I worried I’d vomit in his pretty helmet if I opened my mouth.
I couldn’t even enjoy the candy-apple scent enveloping me, or the way his form was firmly pressing against the apex of my thighs. I was too busy trembling and clenching my eyes closed as we flew down the highway.
Wind whipped by, and my clothes flapped. I didn't dare open my eyes, for fear that I’d start panicking or screaming… or both.
Who wanted to have a panic attack on the back of a motorcycle? Not my ass.
I counted backward from ten. Focused on my breathing. Counted to fifty. Hummed my favorite song. Anything I could do to make the time pass faster, but it seemed to crawl by.
I'm never riding a motorcycle ever again, I thought to myself at least a thousand times, while gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached.
Finally, after what felt like forever, we slowed to a stop. My insides immediately unclenched with relief, and I pried my eyes open.
I had no idea what to expect, but a truck-stop gas station wasn't what I imagined. My gaze swung around the parking lot, drinking in the collection of semi-trucks behind the building. At least there were snacks and showers here—I could take advantage of those. A warm shower was bound to do me some good.
Finding a place to sleep was another story, but there was so much adrenaline buzzing through me that turning in for the night was the last thing on my mind.
Scrambling off the motorcycle as gracefully as I could, I fought the urge to kiss the ground and tore off the helmet. The smell of diesel gas and trash tinged the air, giving me a slight reprieve from Revel’s candied apples. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy his scent, I did, but it was starting to make my head spin.
“Thank you,” I said stiffly, holding out his helmet at arm’s length. I didn't want to get any closer than I had to, and I planned to make a beeline for the front doors of the gas station asap.
