“Same thing,” she says easily. “Are you going out with him before you leave?”
I groan. “Yes.”
She beams. “I knew it. I love this for you.”
I press my palms to my eyes. “He’s here. I’m here. I didn’t plan any of this. And Josie Mosie, you are way too excited for something that isn’t going to work.”
Josie’s voice softens. “You don’t have to plan everything, Danae.”
That’s the problem. I always do. I like having a plan. I like order and organization. I don’t like surprises and unknowns.
The rest of the day crawls. I help with Journey. I fold laundry. I nod at conversations I barely hear.
By late afternoon, I’m standing in the guest bathroom staring at my reflection, trying to decide who I’m supposed to be tonight. I don’t recognize the woman looking back at me. She looks vulnerable. Terrified.
More than anything though, the woman looking back at me, she looks alive.
I choose a simple flowy tank top and jeans. Nothing fancy. Something that feels like me. I wear my hair down in waves, my makeup soft, subtle, but with a little shimmer on my eyes. I’m not overdone, but I’m a step above the casual way he normally sees me.
When I hear the bike outside, my heart stutters. Am I really going to do this?
Miles knocks like a normal person this time. I take a breath and open the door.
And whatever this is, whatever it’s going to be, begins now.
Nine
Miles
I don’t tell her everything at once.
Some things deserve space. Time. The slow stretch of miles unspooling beneath us instead of sitting heavy between two plates and a flickering candle.
When I pull up in front of Raff’s place, I head to the door and knock like I’m a damn teenager. She answers and takes my breath away. Simple outfit, loose but nice, satin type material shirt. It’s red. Bare arms. Hair down. She looks like she’s put a little time into the style but stayed true to herself, and it hits me right in the chest. She’s in a pair of black jeans that fit like a second skin making my dick hard because the woman has an ass meant for grabbing. I resist the urge to pull her in and cup that ass because we need to do more than me take her over my shoulder to the bedroom and fuck her senseless. Even though, I really want to.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” I answer, and suddenly the world feels quieter. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, babe.”
I hand her the helmet. She hesitates, just a beat, then takes it before I take her by the hand giving a nod to Raff and guiding her to my bike. When she swings her leg over the bike and settles in behind me, her hands hover for half a second before resting on my waist.
That touch, light, careful, nearly undoes me.
“You good?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “Just tell me what to do.”
I smile to myself taking her hands in mine, pulling her close so I feel the swell of her tits against my back. Then I settle her hands firm against my stomach. “Hold on. I’ll take care of the rest.”
The engine comes alive beneath us, a familiar vibration that usually sets my nerves humming for escape. Tonight, it does something different. It steadies me. Like I’m not riding away from anything, just moving forward, enjoying the ride.
She leans into me as we pull onto the road, her body following mine instinctively, trust settling between us without words. By the time we clear the city limits, her grip tightens, fingers flat against my abs. I feel it everywhere.
The road stretches out, smooth and dark, the kind of night that is pure peace with every inhale of pine. I don’t push the speed. I don’t need to. This ride isn’t about outrunning anything.
It’s about sharing.
When we pull into the lot outside a small place I know, it’s quiet, nothing fancy, she slides off the bike and pulls off the helmet, hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed, eyes bright.
