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My elbows tingled. My toes curled. I felt electricity sizzle down my spine. Her tongue pressed against my lips and I was all too eager to let her inside. All too eager to wrap her up in my arms. I pulled her close, heaving her into my lap, and she straddled me with effortless perfection. An entire epic poem spilled forth in my mind, encompassing the whole of Rae. From the soft touch of her fingertips against my jaw to the searing heat of her lips against my own.
Even the way her body fell against me constituted its own story of praise.
I pulled back softly. “Ever been on a bike?”
Rae shook her head. “No. I haven’t.”
“Want to ride on one?”
When she didn’t answer me, I stood up. I picked her up in my arms with ease as she squealed and clung to me. I set her down on her feet, taking her hand and tugging her toward my motorcycle. She resisted at first. But then she gave way to me. Gave way to my silent command as we headed for our escape.
“Come on. I’ll take you for a ride,” I said.
And without a second thought, I handed off my helmet to her.
15
Raelynn
Clinging to Clint around his waist as we zoomed through the streets of our hometown wasn’t something I ever thought I’d be doing. And yet, I found myself holding tighter to him with every passing mile. He took the long way around town, pointing out toward the ocean and slowing down so I could gawk at it. We stopped at a bakery that was in its closing hour and he picked us up some pastries at half price. We even stopped to get me one last green tea, while he chugged back a black coffee.
It was a side of him I would have never imagined existed in my wildest dreams.
I stopped questioning where we were going after a while. But once we pulled into the driveway of his home, I grew nervous. What the hell were we doing back here? I figured he’d take me home. Or back to the park. Or drop me off at the high school.
“Uh, Clint?”
He turned off his bike. “What?”
I slipped the helmet off. “What are we doing at your house?”
He put his kickstand down. “Well, you said you didn’t wanna go home. But everything else around here’s closed. We got these pastries. Figured you’d wan
na go somewhere, drink something, and eat.”
“So we’re at your house? Where your father is right now?”
“Nah. Dad goes to the casino to blow off steam after we fight. He won’t be back until tomorrow night at the earliest.”
“And your stepmom?”
He scoffed. “She’s always at his side. If he’s not here, she’s not either.”
He helped me off the bike, catching me as I stumbled. I felt myself blushing underneath the strength of his arms, but I tried not to show it. I tried not to give in to it. This was madness. This was Clint Clarke, for fuck’s sake. The boy that had swung on Michael this morning! There was no way the butterflies in my gut were for him. There was no way on God’s green earth I felt the way I did because of him.
And yet, when he took my hand to lead me inside, I felt my stomach jump.
Turn around. Go home while you still can.
I watched Clint type in a password on a keypad that opened the garage. And with the bag of pastries in one hand, he led me straight through a door and into his kitchen. I gawked as I walked inside, too. His kitchen alone was bigger than Allison’s entire fucking living room. Holy shit, if I thought Allison’s and Michael’s parents had massive homes, then I’d really been an ignorant little girl.
Because Clint’s father didn’t own a home.
He owned a damn mansion.
“You want the cinnamon or cheese danish?” Clint’s voice pierced my shock.
“Um, cheese.”
