“How did you manage this?” I asked. “There’s no one here.”
“Everyone left hours ago,” he said, thumb gliding along my jaw. “I booked a private training session. I just never said I’d be training alone.”
“Hope this doesn’t get you in trouble.”
A one-sided smirk curved his mouth. He pulled me close. “I plan on getting in plenty of trouble tonight. Lots of it.”
I inhaled his scent, closing my eyes. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” He wound the end of my ponytail around his finger, gave it a playful tug, and kissed my cheek. “We better get moving. Come on.”
I followed him into the garage. Asher grabbed a black backpack and pulled out a set of leather gear nearly identical to his.
“These are for you,” he said. “I’m not taking risks. If you want to race with me, you’re suiting up.”
Race with him. Tenderness swelled in my chest. He wanted me to experience it because I couldn’t be in Emerport to watch him.
He handed me a one-piece race suit and black boots. I hugged them to my chest. “Should I undress?”
Asher rubbed the back of his neck. “Keep the top. It’s thin enough. Jeans have to go—you’ll need flexibility.”
I set the suit on a chair, kicked off my sneakers, then unbuttoned my jeans and slid the zipper down. Slowly, I peeled them from my hips, thankful for the pretty black underwear I’d chosen.
Asher froze. His molten gaze swept over me like a forbidden caress, and everywhere it lingered, my skin sparked. I loved the way he looked at me.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” I teased, trying to cut the tension, though I could barely draw air myself.
He cleared his throat. “Cute of you to worry about me, peque. Need help?”
Not a good idea. I snatched the suit from the chair and shook my head. “I got this.”
By the time I wriggled into the gear, my lungs worked again. The tension still pulsed between us, but I managed to steady myself.
“Beautiful,” Asher said—and I believed him. He always did that, made me feel beautiful, smart…wanted. The suit hugged me like it was tailored, and together we looked like professional racers ready for a photo shoot.
I stepped closer. “What now?”
“Now we’re gonna have some fun.”
His red race bike gleamed beside me, but when I studied it, Asher chuckled. “No seat for you on that one, peque. Sorry. My street bike will have to do.”
I didn’t care, not as long as I got to race with him. We pulled on helmets and gloves. Ash swung onto his black street bike, the same one we’d ridden here, and when the engine rumbled, he motioned me forward. I climbed on and wrapped my arms around him, nerves tightening my throat. The air smelled of leather and gasoline, feeding the anticipation building inside me.
“Ready?” he called over the noise.
Not entirely—but I wanted to feel what made him so alive. “Yes.”
He pressed his hand over mine on his stomach. “Hold on. Don’t let go. We’ll do a few laps. Trust me?”
“More than anyone.”
Asher squeezed my hand, then the bike shot forward. At first, he kept the pace slow, giving me time to notice the streaks of pink, orange, and purple splashed across the sky, vivid against the gray tarmac. Empty stands blurred past as we rounded the first corner smooth as breath.
Then he opened up the throttle. Red-and-white stripes at the pavement’s edge smeared into color, and adrenaline thudded through me. When he leaned into a sharp turn, his knee nearly grazing asphalt, I clutched him so tight my bones ached.
But excitement quickly drowned fear. The track grew familiar. The corners no longer scared me. Even the February wind whipping against my suit couldn’t shake me.
For the first time in months, nothing scared me. It was Asher, the road, and me—and happiness expanded in my chest until I almost laughed.
