Reluctantly, he shifts backward and loosens my grip at his waist. I climb off, my legs shaky as I stand on the pavement beside him. My fingers graze the edge of his jacket as I step back, but he doesn’t turn toward me. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, his helmet tilting slightly forward, obscuring his face.
I step back, remove my helmet, and shake my hair.
“Goodnight, Diego,” I manage, my throat tight.
He lifts his head slightly. His face is obscured by the dark visor, forcing me to rely on his body language for interpretation. He doesn’t move, not an inch, having the advantage of staring me down without being seen. Then he nods once, the movement stiff and mechanical.
I hug myself tighter and walk around the back of his bike, making it to my sidewalk before he revs the engine and blasts off into the night.
Maybe it was a mistake.
15
DIEGO
Twenty-four fucking hours and I’m still losing my mind over her. I’ve replayed every fucking word and action between us, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. I’m driving myself crazy to the point that I have to ride. Get off my couch and out the door to sort this shit out.
The engine roars beneath me as I tear through the empty street. My jaw clenches, and I grip the handlebars so tight that my knuckles ache. I can’t stop replaying what happened, like a fucking movie I can’t turn off.
I was trying to apologize.
Trying to explain that I didn’t mean to be so aggressive with her. But fuck, seeing her spread over my bike, my arm around her neck, and her taking it so good, how could I not? I got caught up in the feel of her wet pussy, her tit in my hand, and her pulse in my palm.
But no. She took it and twisted it.
Suddenly, I’m the villain.
My chest burns with anger and something I don’t want to name, something that feels bigger than disappointment.
She hadn’t thought about the risks before. Not when she got on my bike the first time. Not when she kissed me. But now, it’s all risks and blame. Basically, it’s my fault, like I didn’t know what we were risking.
Of course, I fucking did, having weighed them and determined they were worth it, and she hadn’t at all? That doesn’t seem like that pinned-up, cold-blooded professor I’m lusting for.
And what the hell was that ride home?
She blames me, tells me to take her home, and then clings to me like her life depends on it. Curve for curve, she leans with me, pressing so close I could feel the heat of her body through my jacket.
My mind was screaming, trying to figure out what that meant. Why would she ride like that, as if we were okay, as if we were still something, when she made it damn clear she wanted nothing to do with me? It’s like she’s fighting herself. It’s driving me insane trying to figure out which version of her is real.
My teeth grind as I hit a red light, the bike rumbling beneath me. I let out a sharp breath, glancing at my phone mounted on the center of the handlebars. I should call Dom. He’d know what to do. But the second I picture his smug face and the inevitable I told you so about liking the climb more than the view, I shake my head.
Hell no.
Not tonight.
Instead, I pull up Holli’s number, hovering my thumb over the screen for a second before quickly typing a message.
Need to talk
Where ya at
The light turns green. I shove my phone back into its mount, speeding off before anyone behind me can honk. The streets blur as I weave through traffic, my chest tight and my thoughts loud. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this.
My phone buzzes against the mount. I glance down, seeing Holli’s reply flash across the screen.
At Silhouette
Come through.
