Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Slowly covering her from head to toe in protective leathers, literally wrapping her in cotton wool, I ignore Jake’s irritating whine in my ear asking me why the hell I didn’t buy myself some while I was at the store. It didn’t cost me a thought. Never does. Reckless, I know, but I lost any sense of self-care long ago. But now?
I should definitely get some leathers.
“Take the pins out of your hair,” I say, stuffing her things away, waiting for her to chastise me for being so rough with her new dress. The dress that’s conveniently going to go missing very soon.
“Where are your leathers?” she asks, her hands in her hair feeling around, pulling grips out here and there. My mind blanks, not only because of her question, but because I’m being blitzed by some pretty fucking incredible memories of me plucking millions of the things from her hair after the Lusso launch night.
“I don’t need them,” I say mindlessly.
“Why, are you indestructible?”
“No, lady, self-destructible.”
Her frown is instant, and so is my regret. “What does that mean?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I shove her helmet on quickly before she can challenge me, making sure it’s snug and safe before lifting the visor. The second I have her eyes again, I know my hope of avoiding my cock-up is wasted.
“You should wear protective clothing,” she grumbles, motioning down her front. “You’re making me.”
“I’m not prepared to take any risks with you.” Because you’re precious, and I am not. “Anyway . . .” I go on, keen to change the subject, giving her leather-clad arse a little slap, “you look fucking hot.” But hotter in lace. I drape her bag across her body. “When I’m on, put your left foot on the peg and swing your right leg over, okay?” I say, slipping my helmet on and mounting my bike. She steps forward and, with a grace that’s not at all surprising, she gets on the back.
“I feel too high.”
“You’re fine,” I say, looking back at her. “Hold on around my waist, but not too tight. When I lean, gently lean with me and don’t put your feet down when I stop. Keep them on the pegs. Clear?” She nods, and I smile, seeing excitement past the anxiousness. “Put your visor down,” I say, knocking mine into place as she follows suit, settling into my back, her thighs framing me. This takes the thrill of riding to a whole new level.
I start the engine and push back into the road, checking for traffic before pulling off uncharacteristically slowly.
I don’t question it. I don’t need to. I’m carrying precious cargo.
* * *
It feels like the fastest journey ever. I relish every second of her clinging to me, and when the gates to The Manor appear, I feel resentment that the best ride of my life is coming to an end. But what about Ava? Did she enjoy it? Will she indulge me again?
“Off you get,” I order gently when we come to a stop, lifting my visor and looking back. She springs off, and I kick the stand down and swing my leg over, setting my helmet aside.
My hand goes through my waves, not to sort out my mussed-up hair, but because I’m nervous. I want her to like riding with me, because I need to experience that kind of new peace again. Tentatively, I lift her helmet from her head, and her face slowly appears. It’s expressionless, and my heart sinks. But then she grins, eyes sparkling, and dives into my arms, wrapping every limb around me, as if she already misses being stuck to me. I’m so fucking happy, I could cry.
“There’s that grin,” I say, reaching back to set her helmet on the seat of my bike so I can hold her with both hands. “Did you enjoy that?”
She pulls away, finding my eyes, and then she hits me with something I’m not expecting, or that I’m prepared for. “I want one.”
What? No, wait, that wasn’t part of my plan. “Forget it,” I blurt without thought. “Not a fucking chance in hell.” I’ll be a nervous wreck, more than I am already. “Never, no way.” Good God, what was I thinking? “Only ever with me.”
She’s amused. I am not. “I loved it,” she declares, hauling me in, giving me a long, lingering, hot kiss. “Thank you.”
I hum, resigning myself to a new way of riding from here on in. With leathers. And considering I’ll likely buy some to protect myself as well says something. She’s changing me. It makes me wonder if I could possibly like myself one day. Am I capable of that? She makes me want to be a better man, and even though there’s a huge black cloud hanging over my head, waiting to rain all over my parade—that’s the understatement of the century—it makes me hope. Maybe this fuck-up could finally find peace. Be happy. “You’re more than welcome, baby,” I whisper.