“You can get on,” he commands with a subtle edge of authority I can’t help but respond to.
Still, I push past my initial reaction, slip my hand out of his, and cross my arms as I hold my position near the building.
“I don’t even know your name,” I counter, though it comes out breathier than I mean it to.
His mouth curves like he’s amused. “Does it matter?”
It shouldn’t. But somehow, it does.
He steps close enough for me to see the way his eyes catch the light—stormy and intent. “You trust me,” he states.
I open my mouth to deny it, but my pulse betrays me and I think he can hear it.
He slides the helmet toward me, the motion unhurried. “Here.”
I take it, because I guess I decided to be insane today.
When our fingers touch, a spark shoots through my hand and straight down my spine.
“Someone should tell me not to do this,” I whisper, almost hoping he won’t hear it.
But he must, because he steps closer, leaning in and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his breath warm against my temple.
“If you need someone to tell you what to do, you’ll keep getting pushed over. And that pretty little body you pretend isn’t begging for attention? No one’s going to touch it.” His bottom lip drags along my jaw, sending a tremor through me. “Not in the way you want.”
I stop breathing.
He did not just say that.
I can’t even think to respond; I just stand there, eyes locked on him, probably looking like a deer in headlights as he moves back and fits the helmet over my head.
His hands linger against my skin longer than they need to—like he already knows exactly what he’s doing to me—his fingers grazing the spot his lips marked before he pulls away, waiting for me to say something.
“What do I hold onto?” I ask, trying to sound steady.
His eyes flick down my dress and back up, something dark flickering in them before his voice drops low. “Me.”
He swings his leg over the bike and settles in with effortless control. When he looks back, I’m already stepping forward—like gravity decided for me.
He catches my hand, rough skin brushing mine, and guides it around his waist until my chest presses lightly to his back. “Good.”
My heart is hammering. I’ve never done anything like this—never felt this much freedom, this much risk. But there’s something in how he looks at me that makes me undeniably at his will. “Hold on tight. Don’t let go.”
The engine roars to life beneath me, vibrating through my body. My grip tightens instinctively around him, my fingers tensing before they clench at the dark fabric thatapparentlyis just there to outline his muscles.
Maybe I wouldn’t be this stupid if this shadow boy wasn’t so hot.
The wind tears at my hair as soon as we start moving, biting at my skin.
The city lights streak past in blurred neon lines. My pulse races, my stomach flips, and yet… I can’t help but laugh, even muffled by the helmet, it’s pure exhilaration.
I glance down at his back, the curve of his body beneath the leather jacket, and there’s something achingly intimate in how close we are. My fingers tighten around him, and I realize I don’t want this moment to end.
“Does it scare you?” he calls out, voice carried on the wind.
“A little,” I yell back. “But it’s—God, it’s amazing!”
He chuckles, a sound I feel more than hear. “That’s what life feels like when you stop running from it.”
