What if he’s not there?
Doesn’t matter either. I have his details now, so that’ll work itself out.
But shit, I want him to be there.
I slow when I reach the big warehouse-like building—all steel and glass and converted industrial bones—transformed into ateliers and loft apartments. I coast to a stop in front of the right number, rev once more for good measure before killing the engine and swinging off the bike.
An R1 isn’t exactly subtle. The sound echoes. Alot.
And yeah, that kind of horsepower can be useful.
Because he’s already there.
Standing in the wide sliding doorway that opens up his entire place, neon glow spilling out behind him like a halo around his messy, dirty-blond hair.
I rip my helmet off, place it on my bike, heart still hammering in my throat before I advance on him.
“You saw my message,” he breathes, eyes wide when I come closer, stepping outside in his socks onto the cobbled street, the wind off the river whipping around us. “I thought you’d be in Spain right about now.”
I don’t reply. I fuckingcan’t.
I just close the distance, walk straight into him, barely registering the hopeful, heated expression flashing across his face before instinct takes over and I’m on him.
My biker-gear-clad arms wrap around him, pulling him flush against me, and his hands find my neck on instinct, fingers sliding in my messy hair as our mouths collide.
Warm. Familiar. Better than I remembered.
All the frustration, the waiting, the stupid what-ifs of the past days burn off in that single moment. His lips are soft but eager, a relieved breath escaping him into the kiss as he steps closer instead of away, chest pressing against mine, cold forgotten completely.
He tastes like coffee and mint and something unmistakably him, and when his fingers tighten at the back of my neck, grounding, like he needs to make sure I’m actually here, something in my chest finally unclenches.
Yeah. There it is.
Thatclick.
“Well, isn’t this romantic,” I vaguely hear from somewhere behind me—Axe, who must’ve followed me—but I ignore his stupid ass completely, only having eyes for the exquisite man in front of me.
I press one last kiss against his mouth before I take a small step back, breath fogging between us as I grin, still a little breathless, adrenaline and relief tangling in my chest.
“I’m buying my sister a technology-for-dummies book,” he mutters, voice rough.
A relieved chuckle escapes me, my shoulders finally dropping as the tension leaves my body, and for the first time in days, everything feels exactly where it’s supposed to be.
“Your bike in order?” I ask, pushing closer again, leaving no space between us. He has to tip his head back just to hold my gaze. “Give me sixteen seconds to convince you to ride to Spain with me. My friends are riding back after a couple of weeks. You don’t have to stay the full two months. If there’s… nothing here—or, you know, because you have a life and work and all that shit—you head back with them.”
“To go all the way to Spain with astranger?” The corner of his mouth tugs up as he teases, but his eyes give him away—bright, curious, excited in a way that makes my stomach flip. “You think sixteen seconds is enough?”
“That’s all Iask.”
My top lip grazes his bottom one, barely there, before I brush my mouth just beneath it, feeling the hitch in his breath.
Shit,those lips.
So close to mine again it makes my head spin.
“All Iwant.”
“All you want?” he rasps, sounding like a damn echo of my own thoughts, his hands fisting in my jacket now, pulling me closer instead of away. The world narrows to heat and breath and the solid feel of him against me.
