Well, then.
Sixteen
Pen
He doesn’t live far, and I’m there in less than ten minutes. Punching in the code he gave me—Balderdash!, seriously—I wait as the massive brushed steel gates silently glide back. They reveal a wide drive that curves sharply to the left. As soon as I make the turn, the house looms into view. My immediate impression is of glass and steel garment boxes piled haphazardly and punctuated here and there with enormous wood panels. It’s beautiful in the modern way of glossy airport terminals. It hugs the cliffside as though a giant plunked those boxes into the earth before moving on.
August is already coming out of the gigantically tall wood door as I pull up. He skids to a stop and wavers there as I cut my engine.
“Holy shit,” he exclaims, holding a hand to his chest in dramatic fashion.
Taking off my helmet, I look up at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking his head slightly, his eyes are wide and on me. “Give me a second here, Sweets. I gotta... You just...” His hand lifts, weakly gesturing in my direction. “Seriously, Pen?”
With a roll of my eyes, I press down the kickstand and step off my bike. “Have you been drinking? Because I don’t think that’s wise.”
August waves my question away with a distracted hand. He’s still staring at me like I have two heads as he trots down the front walk. “You’re riding a motorcycle!”
“Ah, yeah.” I glance at my bike, then back to him. “You have a problem with that?”
“Pen...” He sounds a bit weepy. “A motorcycle!”
In two strides, he’s before me. He clasps my waist, and, with a soft growl, tugs me close. My hands land on his chest to steady myself. Against my palms, his heart thuds quick and strong. It’s so sudden, he’s so big and solid, I struggle to breathe properly.
With another sound of frustrated distress, he rests his forehead on mine. “Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy that was to see?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.” I’m so flustered, I don’t know whether to laugh or wrap my arms around him.
“I don’t know who Pete is,” he murmurs. “But I empathize with his plight. I’m gonna need a minute.”
He’s gently rubbing up and down my waist, going a little farther down my hips with each pass. It feels good. Far too good. Heat swirls in lazy circles deep in my core, weakening my knees and urging me to drift closer to August, to lean against his firm length. I resist, but only just.
“Don’t tell me you’re turned on by this?” I say weakly.
“Okay, I won’t.” He’s kneading the dip of my waist now, his breath escaping in deep gusts that make my skin shiver.
“August...” It comes out a little desperate. Whether it’s for him to act or to back off, I’m not sure. He’s done my head in. This is August, the boy who ignored me our entire childhood.
A fine shudder wracks his body, the grip on me going tight. He expels a breath and steps back. When his eyes meet mine, they’re strained around the edges, his smile brittle. “Not cool, Penelope.”
“What!”
One brow lifts high. “You gotta warn me before you up anddo hella sexy things like pull into my driveway on a motorcycle—and wearing a tight leather jacket too!”
“Oh, for crying out... I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
He nods once, shortly. “I know. It’s very annoying.”
“To me,” I correct. “Annoying to me.”
“Uh-huh.” No longer listening, he steps around me to study the bike.
My ride is a 2019 Triumph Street Twin in a matte ironstone finish, which gives it a nice vintage styling.
“God, the way you look on this...” Quicksilver eyes flash with interest. “When did you start riding motorcycles?”
“Last spring. I needed a cheap mode of transportation. The seller was motivated, and I got it for under six thousand, which is much cheaper than a car. This is LA. I rarely have to worry about the weather. I can get around quick and easy. And...” I shrug. “It’s fun.”
