My heart jolted. The last goodbye had come faster than I’d braced for. Asher pushed off his bike. I ran to him before he could take a step, and he caught me easily, lifting me close as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home before tonight.”
He brushed my hair back, chocolate eyes searching my face. “I thought today might be hard for you, so I skipped training. I’ll ride back early tomorrow. And…” He hesitated. “I wanted a few hours alone with you before our parents ruin everything. I’ll help you pack.”
I pressed my lips to his. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing, peque.”
He always downplayed the sacrifices—even missing training, even riding back to the track at dawn—just to spend more time with me.
He wants to make it work, I reminded myself for the hundredth time. Asher wouldn’t leave me, not over distance or my father.
He set me down gently, his thumb feathering over my cheek. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, pouring all the conviction I had into that single word.
He nodded, tugging his leather jacket off the bike’s handle. “Hop on, then.”
Asher climbed on first. I swung a leg over and settled behind him, and he handed me a helmet. Nostalgia clamped my chest. When would I ride with him again? He’d be traveling until the season ended. What made me think he’d find the time?
Now more than ever, he had to win, to finish strong. But after? Would he stay with Dad’s team? I had another year at school, but for a pro racer, a year meant everything.
“Hold on to me,” Ash said, glancing back, his voice muffled by the helmet. I hugged his waist, tentative, until he pulled my hands forward and pressed my chest to his back. His fingers brushed mine, guiding them flat against his stomach. He looked over his shoulder once more, winked, then lowered the visor in one smooth motion.
The bike roared to life, the vibration jolting through me. I’d never truly know what he felt when he raced, but the time I’d spent on the trackwith him gave me a glimpse. Asher was made for this. And somewhere along the way, my naïve, reckless heart decided he was made for me too.
He wove between cars, squeezing my fingers when my grip loosened, reminding me my hands belonged here—on him. The vehicles blurred, the world rushing by, and I clung to him, wishing the ride would never end.
When Ash parked in the driveway, he unclasped his helmet. I waited for him to climb off, then followed.
“Do your legs ever wobble?” I asked, smoothing my helmet-tangled hair.
He chuckled. “Yeah. More often than you think, but I’m used to it. Not after riding this slow, though, peque. We need to work on your endurance.”
“Ass.” I playfully slapped his leather-clad arm. Asher slung an arm around my shoulders, jostling me into his side. His lips grazed my temple, and my pulse spiked like he’d kissed my mouth.
“Have I told you you look beautiful today? You always do, but I like this shirt.”
Another kiss, lower this time—my cheek, then my jaw—and I melted like it was already midsummer.
“So, you have a thing for white T-shirts. Good to know,” I said, digging through my backpack for the keys, but Asher already dangled his from his finger.
“I have a thing for you.” He slid the key into the lock before I could. Relief washed over me at the silence inside. I led him to my room, and the second the door clicked shut, my arms circled his neck. His hands skimmed my curves in slow, deliberate passes that contrasted with the heat in his gaze.
I pressed a palm to his chest, guiding him back until he sat on my bed. “A thing for me?” I straddled him. “Want to prove it?”
Leaning back on his hands, he gave me a lazy smile. “Do I need to? Isn’t what you feel proof enough?”
He tilted his hips, hard and ready beneath me. After what Mandy had told me, gratitude hit sharper—because Asher always put me first, even when it tookrestraint.
“Peque.” He touched my bottom lip with his fingertip. “Where’d you go?”
I cupped his cheek. “I’m here. Just thinking.”
“Want to share?”
“I don’t know. Should I?”
His fingers slid through a strand of my hair. “Always.”
