Max’s mouth quirks up before he whispers, “Go show ‘em how it’s done, Sitka.”
I grin back and say, “I’m planning on it.”
I’m sure a part of him wishes he could go riding in the woods with us, but then I see the way he smiles over at Talia while he gently rocks his daughter and I know the part of him that wants to stay right where he’s at is much bigger.
I’ve just caught up with my brothers when I hear my dad yell, “You guys be careful!”
“Watch your sister,” my mom adds, and then gives me a smile because she means it in the best way. She’s not trying to hinder my fun, but she does want to make sure I’m safe.
Misha takes the opportunity to reach out and ruffle my hair while he says, “Don’t worry. We’ll keep our baby sister safe.”
“Misha, stop,” I growl at him, stepping back and out of his reach, but the damage is already done. I can feel my hair sticking up all over the place and when I lift my head, Damien’s beautiful face is the first thing I see. He looks like he’s fighting a grin as I stifle a groan and use my hands to tame my hair as much as possible. By the time I’ve got it somewhat fixed, he’s already walking up the driveway, heading towards my uncle’s four-cargarage. There are plenty of extra dirt bikes we can use while we’re here, but my brothers know I prefer my own, so we’d loaded it into the back of Misha’s truck before we drove over. Plus, I can’t ride the bigger ones they all use. My feet need to be able to touch the ground.
While my bike gets unloaded, I grab my boots and gloves from the backseat. I love my Converse, but I don’t want to get them filthy. Even if I was planning on being careful, they’d still end up covered in mud, and I can’t have that. Leaning against the seat with the door still open, I hurry up and change into my boots and then dig around, trying to find one of my hoodies. I’m always tossing them around and leaving them in places that I forget about, but I usually keep one in Misha’s truck.
When I’ve looked over every inch and still can’t find it, I slam the door shut with an annoyed grunt.
“What’s wrong with you?” Yuri asks, grinning at the scowl I’m still wearing.
“I can’t find my hoodie,” I tell him. “I know I left it in Misha’s truck, and I swear if he gave it to some girl, I may never forgive him.”
“He’d never do that,” Yuri says and then gives a soft laugh. “Trust me, the last thing he wants is to see some girl wearing his little sister’s clothes.”
He has a point, so I let go of the anger I’d just been feeling as Yuri walks off. I’m still debating whether or not to run inside and ask my Aunt Nina if she has something I can use when I feel a presence right behind me. Turning, I come face-to-chest with Damien. Before I can lift my head, my eyes roam over the large expanse of his chest and the ink that’s decorating his forearms. It takes me a second to realize he’s holding a black hoodie in his hands.
When I finally manage to bring my eyes to his, he holds it out to me and says, “I heard you talking to Yuri. You can wear mine if you want.”
It takes me a second to respond, and those awkward seconds of silence have him pulling his hand back. “Or not. You don’t have to. I just thought you might get cold.”
Before he can lower his arm, I reach out and grab onto the hoodie with a force that’s way overkill for the situation. I’m so afraid he’s going to walk away, though, and take his sweatshirt with him, or worse, give it to someone else. My fingers tighten on the soft fabric before I clutch it towards my chest while trying really hard to not show how excited I am to have this piece of him.
I nearly moan when I catch the faint scent of his cologne. This isn’t something he just pulled out of the dryer. This is something he just had pressed against his own body, and it’s about to be pressed against mine. If he notices how tightly I’m clutching the fabric, he’s kind enough to not let on. His dark eyes stay locked on mine, and I don’t look away until the first engine sparks to life with a high-pitched, all-too-familiar sound. My heart races, and I’m not sure if it’s because of Damien or the anticipation of riding. Probably both.
“Are you sure you won’t need it?” I force myself to ask, even though I tighten my grip, knowing there’s no way in hell I’m ever giving this back to him.
“I’ll be fine, Sitka.”
I nearly melt at hearing him say my name in that deep voice of his. To cover up what I’m feeling, I find the bottom of his hoodie and pull it over my head. The scent of him surrounds me, and I’m grateful when someone revs their engine, covering the moan that is impossible to hold back. He’s still watching me with that same intense look of his when I shove my arms in and pull it down lower. I can’t see my hands, so I have to shove the sleevesup, but when they keep falling down, he steps closer and grabs onto the cuff and starts to slowly roll the shirt up to my wrist.
I watch his long fingers as he works. It doesn’t seem like he’s going out of his way to touch me, but every once in a while, I feel the brush of his skin against mine, and every time I feel it, there’s a tingling sensation that travels throughout my body. It’s absurd. One brief touch shouldn’t have this kind of an effect on me, but there’s no denying that it does.
When I hold up my other arm, I see the corner of his mouth lift before he starts rolling this sleeve up to match the other. As soon as it’s up to my wrist, I expect him to let me go, but he doesn’t. Instead, he runs his thumb along the palm of my hand, leaving a trail of fire behind that immediately ignites into an inferno deep inside me.
Jesus, he just lit my goddamn body on fire with that one touch.
“It’s still too big on you,” he says before slowly letting my hand go.
“It’s perfect,” I say without thinking, and when his mouth quirks up again, I look down at the hoodie that hangs down past my butt and add, “I mean, it’s not too big. It’ll keep me warm while I ride. Thank you, Damien.”
I don’t want to walk away from him, but I know the others are waiting for us. When I grab my helmet and gloves and start to walk to the garage, Damien falls in step beside me.
“You like to ride?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him, unable to hide the smile I give at the mere mention of riding. “I love it.”
He watches me slip my gloves on before stopping in front of my bike. Not wasting any time, I hike a leg over and pull my helmet on before adjusting my goggles. I swear his dark eyes take in every inch of me before he grins and says, “I’ll do my best to keep up.”
I start my bike and turn my headlight on while the others do the same. Looking around, I see Allie on a four-wheeler with a not-so-thrilled looking Yulia behind her. My cousin is gripping the rack behind her and I know she’s going to try like hell to use it for leverage to soften the brutal bouncing those two are about to take.
