Pulling the helmet onto her head, she muttered, “Not for you.”Because it makes you hotter.
Cecilia hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, but she didn’t feel even a little bit of the exhaustion that had clung to her when she peeled herself out of Sloane’s bed that afternoon. It was impossible to feel tired when she was with her elf. Now that she wasn’t quite as worried she’d end up chopped into little pieces and tossed into the Bay as merfolk food, it left a lot of room for feeling other things.
Like the thrill of his attention. Like how hot it was that he rode a motorcycle. Like how he made her danger sense ping off the damn charts.
She’d always known the messed up wiring in her brain would get her into trouble eventually. Now it’d gotten her onto the back of her stalker’s motorcycle.
Her heart jumped when Sloane stepped into her personal space. He was never far from her, but it melted something in her whenever he approached her in that slow, predatory way only to touch her so, so gently.
Logically, she knew she should put a stop to it unless she wanted to encourage the obsession he so clearly harbored, but she just… didn’t want to do that.
A part of her was pretty sure she should try to escape when they were out on their date. It was the smart thing to do, and most of the reason she suggested it in the first place. But when he stooped those stupidly broad shoulders to delicately latch the helmet’s clasp beneath her chin, all the smart parts of her brain shut down.
Cecilia stared at her own flushed reflection in his visor as he tested the fit of her helmet. The scent of leather and something richer filled the air when he brushed her hair over her shoulders. “This is a tactical disadvantage,” he intoned, rubbing the strands between his gloved fingers.
Tingles raced down from the top of her head to her fingertips, which was an objectively bizarre reaction to what was definitely not a compliment. “Do you think I should cut it?” she asked, a little breathless.
Sloane carefully laid the lock of hair over her shoulder. The tips of his claws lingered on the curve of her shoulder for a heartbeat before he reached up to gently pull the visor of her helmet down. “No,” he answered. “I like your tactical disadvantages. I can easily compensate for them.”
Gods, that shouldn’t have been as romantic as it came across. Stomach swooping, she smoothed her hands down her pink leather jacket. It was a lucky thing she’d chosen to wear a cute pair of tweed shorts with thigh-high socks. If she’d been in one of her skirts or dresses, she would’ve ended up with only herpanties and his clothing between them, which wouldn’t be ideal. Not ideal atall.
But a shame nonetheless,she thought as she watched Sloane swing his leg over the bike.
Incredibly glad to have her face hidden by the helmet, she gingerly placed her hands on his shoulders and settled onto the seat behind him. It wasn’t the first time she’d hopped on the back of a man’s bike, but wrapping her arms around Sloane’s waist and pressing herself against him was a new experience.
He blazed with heat. It soaked through the thick layers of his definitely-not-date-appropriate-clothing to warm her all the way to her bones.
Cecilia tightened her arms around his waist experimentally, testing how they fit together.
Resting her chin on his shoulder, she noted, “You know, I brought that knife you gave me. Aren’t you afraid I could stab you in the kidney or something?”
Sloane didn’t start the bike right away. He sat rigidly on the seat, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the handlebars that she swore she could hear the leather squeak. This close to him, she thought she could hear something else, too: the strange, raspy rhythm of quick breaths through a filter.
“I’m not afraid of being stabbed,” he answered, knocking the kickstand back into position.
Compelled by the self-destructive idiot that was her libido, she dared to lower her arms a little, settling them right above his belt. “Why? Think I won’t?”
Sloane rolled his shoulders like he was working out a kink. “No. Because I wouldn’t care if you did.”
The bike’s engine roared to life. The sound bounced off the smooth concrete walls of the garage. It was almost as loud as the thundering beat of her heart as she attempted to process that casual declaration.
She squeezed her eyes shut as Sloane leaned forward and rocketed down the long concrete tunnel. The temperature dropped abruptly as a massive metal door pulled aside, revealing a nighttime landscape of coastal greenery.
Salty air whipped her hair back as her stomach landed somewhere in the garage and stayed there.
A wild burst of laughter escaped her when Sloane took a curve with a perfect lean. The motorcycle’s headlights cast the road in a beam of warm light. It glanced off ghostly trees and thick foliage as they slipped in and out of the forest. When they weren’t tucked beneath the boughs of ancient trees, they seemed to barely hang on to the edge of sandy cliffs.
Cecilia clung to him as she stared out over the ocean and the twinkling lights of the city beyond it. Her blood rushed in her veins, full of life in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe it was the near-death experience talking, but a reckless sort of joy bubbled through her with every smooth turn and shift of Sloane’s body against her own.
She didn’t know where they were going and that was probably a bad thing. Cecilia couldn’t make herself care. Her life was already so fucked up that she wanted to soak in as much joy as she could.
Especially if I escape tonight.
She didn’t want to think about that, though. Not just then.
Cecilia lost track of how long they rode. She fell into the rhythm of the bike and Sloane’s confident movements. She wasn’t even sure when she closed her eyes. It wasn’t like the scenery was uninteresting, just that the flow of the road and Sloane’s warmth lulled her into a bone-deep comfort she couldn’t explain.
It came as something of a shock, then, when they slowed to a stop.
