“It was. And this year marks a decade, so it’s a lot.”
“So you haven’t celebrated your birthday in ten years?”
She shrugs, removing her hand from under mine to grab her mug of coffee. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
It’s the saddest part, really. She shouldn’t be discarded on a day that also belongs to her, but I don’t point it out. When her hand is free again, I grab it once more and bring it to my lips to lay a kiss on its back. “If you feel like celebrating it this year, give me a call, yeah? I’ll worship you all day like you deserve.”
The somber expression on her face fades slightly. “Don’t I deserve to be worshiped every day of the year?”
I chuckle. “You do. Let’s say I’ll worship you even more on your birthday, then. Does that sound alright to you, Miss Kensington?”
She bends closer, bringing her lips near mine. “It sounds very alright to me, Mr. Clarke.”
Our kiss tastes like coffee, avocado, and her. Just for that latter flavor, I’d linger there and keep doing it until we can’t physically continue. But she’s late for work as it is, so I force myself to pull away after granting her one last peck.
Following our breakfast together, she returns to her room to rearrange her hair for the helmet. In the meantime, I load the dishwasher and take care of the utensils in the sink. When she comes back with a low bun, I consider suggesting she changes her shoes as well. But I’ve seen women manage with stilettos, so I hold back. The same goes for her skirt. I like the idea of her bare legs wrapped around me too much to have her put on a pair of pants.
I’ll be extra careful.
Minutes later, she’s got her handbag, I have my stuff, and we’re outside on the street. The morning concierge looked at me sideways when we passed, like the one from yesterday. Clearly, her world isn’t used to people like me. I’m sure they never side-eyed her prissy ex like that.
My bike isn’t far from the entrance, and I guide us to it. Gen scans it with uncertainty, a pout pursing her lips together. “It looks fast.”
“It can be. But I promise we’ll go slow.”
“So far, your slow has been anyone else’s light speed, Jake. Yamaha is a good brand, right?”
“Yeah, ‘their products are reputedly qualitative,’” I tease, remembering the contract.
When I approach with the helmet, she still seems distressed. “Come on, love. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promise, leaning in to give her lips a reassuring peck.
I slip the helmet on her, and she allows me, gulping hard. “Have you ever had an accident?”
“Not in a while. And it was nothing major.” I clip the strap below her chin and adjust it. “Nothing will happen to you, sweetheart.”
Although I can’t see her face anymore, her gestures are more assertive when I hand her the gloves. While she puts them on, I slip the key in the ignition.
“Shoot,” she mutters behind the visor.
“What?”
“I should have worn pants.”
Thank fuck she looks down and doesn’t see my grin. “Probably, yeah. Too late for that though.”
I hop onto the bike, kick the stand back, balance it, and hit the red start button. The engine roars below me, and Gen takes a step back, intimidated.
“Come on, love. I’ll help you up.”
I offer her a solid hand and do my best to assist her as she climbs behind me. Once she’s on, I help her put her feet in the rests. Her slim hands come around me, and I feel her front plaster itself against my back as she holds on tightly to me. I stifle a small laugh, amused by her apprehension. Does she not trust me?
“Is there anything special I should do?” she asks, adjusting herself.
“All you have to do is hang on to me and follow my gestures. You weigh nothing compared to me or the bike, so you won’t pose a balance problem.”
She nods. “Good, okay.”
“Are you ready, red?” I ask, twisting to the side. Her helmet-covered head tilts up and down. “Alright, then.”
