I shake my head, a small, jerky motion I try to disguise with a shrug. “Nope.”
His eyes are gentle now, like he’s seeing right through the bravado I’m barely holding together. He’s charming, I’ll give him that. Even as he stands here, all rugged good looks, scruffy edges, and magnetic energy. I try to steady my breath, but it’s pointless. When he drapes the jacket over my shoulders, the warmth of it andhimsinks into me, the familiar scent of leather and spice wrapping around me like a hug I didn’t know I needed.
And then he grabs a glossy black helmet, holding it out toward me. “Here you go. Safety first.”
I take it, but my fingers fumble over the smooth surface like I’ve never held a helmet before. A few years ago, I wouldn’thave blinked at this. Adrenaline and throwing myself headfirst into the unknown used to be my language. But now there’s this spark of hesitation.
Before I can figure out how to work the straps, he steps closer, his hands brushing against mine as he gently takes the helmet.
“Let me,” he murmurs as he adjusts it for me. His fingers graze beneath my chin as he fastens the clasp, and it sends a shiver straight through me. Nerves, not fear, but still enough to leave me unsteady.
Then he flips the visor down with a smirk that’s pure mischief. It’s cocky and irresistible. “Lookin’ good, Sunshine.”
I watch as he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat. He glances over his shoulder and pats the space behind him. “You coming?”
I hesitate for a beat, the cool evening air catching the hem of my dress as it flutters around my ankles. My fingers toy with the fabric at my sides as I eye the bike, less like a machine now and more like a dare I’m not sure I can take back once I say yes.
I step closer, gathering the length of my dress in one hand and awkwardly hiking it just enough to swing a leg over without flashing the whole street. It’s far from graceful. I wobble slightly, one hand catching on his shoulder for balance, but I settle behind him, tucking myself in close, the heat of his body seeping into me even through the layers of clothing.
“Hold on tight,” he says before the engine growls to life.
I slip my arms around his waist, fingers interlocking over his abdomen. He tenses for a moment, muscles flexing beneath my touch, before relaxing back into me.
“You ready for this?” he calls out, his voice rising above the engine’s rumble.
A grin spreads across my face before I can stop it. It’s impossible not to match his energy. “As ready as I’ll ever be!”
He reaches to pull my hands a bit tighter, pulling me closer against his back, and it’s impossible not to notice how firmly he’s built.
Knox’s little brother, who? There’s nothing little about this man.
His hands move to the handlebars as he revs the engine. The vibrations pulse through me, igniting every nerve like a live wire as I grip him a little harder. The intoxicating scent of something rich and slightly sweet, something entirelyhimsurrounds me.
He guns the accelerator, and we peel out of the parking lot. The sudden burst of speed makes my breath catch in my throat, panic flaring immediately.
I don’t breathe at first. My heart’s in my throat, my stomach somewhere near my knees, and for one awful second, all I can think iswhat the hell am I doing?
Then Callan shifts slightly, one hand dropping from the handlebar to brush over mine where it clings to his waist. It’s quick, maybe even unconscious, but the message is there.I’ve got you.
That small gesture settles me. The thrum of the engine is still loud in my ears, but his steadiness cuts through the chaos. I let out the breath I’ve been holding, pressing in closer, letting the heat of his body subdue the fear still prickling at the edges of my consciousness.
My thighs hug his, my instincts kicking in as I give myself over to the motion. The speed no longer feels like a threat. It’s a release.
The world around us melts into a blur of motion and color, and somewhere inside it, I find the calm. The roar of the engine drowns out the noise in my head. The ache. The doubt. The fear. Time folds in on itself, and then gradually, heeases off the throttle.
We roll to a stop and Callan kills the engine at a stunning lookout point. Neither of us makes a move to dismount. The warmth of his body is too comforting to give up just yet.
The lake below stretches out like a mirror of inky blackness, perfectly still beneath the midnight sky. The distant mountain peaks are bathed in a silvery glow, their edges tempered by the moonlight. Autumn wraps itself around the landscape, the crisp air carrying a faint bite that doesn’t stand a chance against Callan’s warmth.
“Where are we?” I whisper as I pull the helmet off. It feels almost wrong to speak louder.
“That’s Loch Tummel we’re looking at,” he replies, his accent sliding over the words with that dangerous charm. “And Schiehallion over there.” He gestures toward the distant hills.
The contrast of the wild rush of the ride fading into this serene quiet hits me like whiplash. My heart is still racing, but now it’s not just from the adrenaline.
“It’s beautiful.” I don’t even think about it. I just lean forward and rest my chin on his shoulder like it’s second nature, and the second I do it, I freeze. What am I doing?
He goes still beneath me, just long enough for me to start pulling back, heart stuttering with the urge to apologize. Then the tension melts from his shoulders as he leans into the contact.
