“You bought me a jacket?” Her tone was guarded, like she didn’t believe that he’d do such a thing.
“Who else would I buy it for?”
“I don’t know.” She got that haughty expression that she reserved for when she was pissed…or insecure. “Maybe a girlfriend or something.”
Shock nearly dislodged his jaw from its hinges. Meanwhile, Vanessa swallowed visibly and wrapped her arms around herself.
“A girlfriend?” he parroted.
“Or y-you know, a woman. A lady friend.”
Shock bled to confusion, then melted as a warmth flooded his heart. Was she jealous?
Keeping his focus on her, he closed the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. When her chin tipped downward, he nudged it back up with his index finger until their gazes latched. “There is no girlfriend.” Those warm brown eyes softened with relief, and his heart did the most ridiculous flip in his chest. “No lady friends, no flings, no other women. There’s only you.”
He hadn’t meant to let the last part slip. It was supposed to stay locked in the vault of his inner voice. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the stress, or the gnawing fear that she was in more danger than anyone realized. But the words were out now and he couldn’t take them back, so he deflected by turning back to the bike.
As soon as she put on the jacket, and the gloves that went with it, he stowed the puffer coat she’d been wearing and held up a helmet. “This too.” He eased the helmet over her head, then clicked the buckle under her chin. His fingers brushed the soft underside of her jaw, and he heard her soft intake of breath. Their gazes locked again, and something ricocheted between them that he swore she must have experienced as strongly as he did because her breath caught, like his, and neither of them could look away.
Before he did something reckless, like kiss her senseless, he swung his leg over the bike and held out his hand to her. “Ever ride one of these?”
“No,” she said softly as she climbed on behind him.
Satisfaction unfurled in his chest. He liked the idea of being her first in this. There was something intimate about it.
She grabbed the side bars of her seat awkwardly.
“You can wrap your arms around my waist. It will feel the most secure your first time.” Fuck. Why did he sound like he was talking her through sex? He cleared his throat.
“Okay.” Her arms wrapped around his torso and squeezed half the air right out of him until he wheezed.
“Ease up, princess. I need to breathe if I want to get us there safely.”
She relaxed her hold the tiniest bit and slid closer, her breasts pressing against his back. The contact ignited something low in his belly. He tried to ignore it.
“Feet up on the pegs. Keep them there, even when we stop. When I turn, lean with me. Don’t fight it. While we’re on this bike, we’re one person. We move together. I’ll keep us balanced.”
When she let out a skeptical hum, he added, “I promise. Tap my chest twice if you want me to pull over and stop. If you only tap once, I’ll assume you’re good. Ready?”
She let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know. This all feels like some elaborate trust fall exercise, except we’re balancing precariously on two wheels and swerving down highways.”
He glanced back. “Well then, I guess this is your last chance to decide if you trust me or not.”
Don’t show her how terrified you are to hear the answer to that.He kept his face neutral and waited.
When she tapped his chest once and snuggled closer against his back, something tugged deep inside him.
“Where are we going anyway?” she asked.
With the flick of his wrist, he revved the engine to life, the loud roar sending a familiar thrill rushing through his body. “You’ll see,” was the answer he gave her as he rode out of the garage and onto the dimly lit street.
The drive to Cannon Beach usually took him an hour and twenty minutes. He liked to take the highway fast, pushing speed limits without exceeding them because, God knew with his record, he couldn’t afford even a speeding ticket.
But with Vanessa tucked behind him, he took it slower. The first half of the ride, as the city turned to countryside, he sensed her anxiety in the clamp of her thighs, how her arms hugged the breath out of him every time he took a corner, and the way her chest stayed pressed his back like she was a jetpack.
It wasn’t until they hit a quiet stretch of two-lane highway through the forest that she relaxed, melting against him, her head resting on his shoulder blades. She moved with him, her body molding against his, and he reveled in the trust it took to be that calm on her first ride, especially given the circumstances.
Motorcycles had a bad rep. Many people associated them with vicious gangs and roadside disasters. His own mother had forbidden him from getting his motorcycle license, and even though he continued to do many of the things she’d forbidden him to do, he didn’t get a bike until recently.
