The consideration confuses me. Most Alphas would either ignore my discomfort or point it out as a weakness. Gabriel’s subtle support leaves me confused and off-center.
After the last truck pulls away, I check the time. Nearly four in the morning.
“We’ve seen enough.” I roll my shoulders to ease the stiffness from crouching too long. “Time to go.”
“Okay.” Gabriel tucks away his camera and phone. “I got what we needed. Sebastian can start tracking these vehicles and employees first thing this morning.”
We retrace our steps through the maze of containers, staying alert for security patrols. Gabriel moves with the same fluid confidence as before, but now I notice how he positions himself always ahead of me when checking corners, ready to take any potential risk first.
The realization makes me uncomfortable. I should be the one protecting his rich ass, not the other way around.
As we near the perimeter fence, Gabriel pauses, turning to me. “For what it’s worth, we all have scars. Some are just easier to hide than others.”
I tense, waiting for the platitude, the pretense at understanding.
It doesn’t come. Instead, he turns away, slipping through the gap in the fence without looking back to see if I follow.
The motorcycle roars to life beneath me, and Gabriel’s arms hug my waist without hesitation.
My entire body goes rigid at the contact, not from discomfort this time but from the heat that spreads through my abdomen from where his hands rest. His thighs once again find their place alongside mine, hiswarm chest solid at my back, and my heart rate spikes as if I’ve been running for miles.
I pull away from the curb with more speed than necessary, the front wheel lifting before settling back on the asphalt.
Gabriel’s arms tighten, his fingers digging into my abdomen. Each point of contact burns through my shirt, and I focus on the road ahead to distract me from the sensation.
The streets blur as I weave through early-morning traffic, streetlamps casting alternating stripes of light and shadow across us. Gabriel shifts behind me, adjusting his position, and his helmet digs into my shoulder as he leans into a turn, our bodies moving in sync with the machine beneath us.
A car horn blares as I cut too close, and Gabriel tenses before relaxing. His thumb traces an idle pattern over my ribs, the movement so subtle I might have imagined it if not for the trail of fire it leaves behind.
At a red light, his head tilts forward until the helmet rests against my neck, and he shifts to speak into my ear. He hadn’t lowered the visor this time, and his breath warms my skin.
“Get used to me,” he says into my ear to be heardover the rumble of the engine, “because I’m not going anywhere.”
My pulse jumps, and the heat that crawls up my neck has nothing to do with the night’s exertion. The presumption in his words should anger me, but instead, my skin prickles with anticipation.
The light changes to green, and I twist the throttle hard. The bike lurches forward, forcing Gabriel to grip me tighter as we accelerate through the intersection. The sudden speed becomes my escape, a way to avoid responding to his declaration.
Wind whips around us, cold against my heated skin, and for several blocks I push the bike faster than necessary, forcing Gabriel to mold himself to my back to stay on. His body heat seeps into mine through layers of clothing, and the chill night air on my face clashes with the warmth at my back, leaving me disoriented.
My heart still hasn’t settled by the time we reach the Blue Note. I ease the bike into the back parking lot, engine echoing off brick walls before I cut the ignition.
Gabriel dismounts first, removing the helmet and running a hand through his hair in an attempt to restore some order. I stay on the bike, gripping thehandlebars as if they might anchor me from giving in to whatever this pull toward him might be.
“That was…” Gabriel starts, then pauses, his lips curving in a way that has my stomach doing flips. “Invigorating.”
I grunt in response, not trusting myself to speak, and dismount. My boots hit concrete with a solid thud that grounds me, reminding me who I am and who he is. We don’t belong in the same world, no matter how well he handled himself tonight.
Gabriel turns toward the parking lot, my helmet tucked under his arm, then freezes mid-step. “Where’s my car?”
The space where his luxury sedan had been parked sits empty, with no evidence that it had ever been there but a few shards of glass on the pavement.
7
Abubble of laughter rises, and I throw my head back, letting it out.
Gabriel spins back to face me. “You think this is funny?”
“A little.” I can’t stifle my grin and don’t even try. “What did you expect, leaving an expensive car in this neighborhood?”
