“I don’t want you to wait forever,” she whispers, voice cracking. “I don’t want to keep hurting you.”
I pull her closer, as my hand cradles the back of her head, the other splayed across her lower back.
“Then don’t,” I murmur into her hair. “Whenever you’re ready, whenever you choose, come to me. And I swear, Layla, I’ll spend every day making sure you feel loved, appreciated, fuck, I’ll give you everything I have.”
She lifts her head. Her eyes are red-rimmed and shining, yet there’s a fierce look in them now.
“I’m scared,” she admits, barely audible.
“I know, baby.” I brush my thumb under her eye, catching another tear. “Me too, but I’m more scared of neverfucking having this; of never knowing what it feels like to love you out loud.”
She searches my face for a long moment before she leans in and kisses me, her lips trembling against mine.
Pulling back just enough to speak, she brushes her lips against mine with each word.
“I don’t know how to do this yet,” she breathes. “But I want you. I’ve always wanted you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”
I cup her face with both hands, as both of my thumbs stroke her cheekbones.
“Then don’t pretend,” I say against her mouth. “Not with me. Not anymore.”
She nods.
I kiss her again, longer this time, savoring every slide of her tongue against mine, every soft sound she makes when I nip her bottom lip, every time her hips shift and press closer.
My hands roam down her back, over her hips, up her sides, learning the shape of her body like I’ve been starving for years.
Because I fucking have been.
reed
. . .
The front porch light casts a honey glow over Layla as she slides her sunflower helmet into place, blonde waves escaping in wild little tendrils around her cheeks.
God, she’s radiant. There isn’t a word to describe Layla LeBlanc’s beauty; she’s a unique kind.
I take a moment to breathe in my surroundings—her smile, the only thing that brings light into my life.
Her eyes reflect the dark sky behind me like it’s full of constellations just for her.
It takes effort to look away long enough to wheel my BMW S1000RR out of the garage. Its matte-black body gleams under the moonlight.
The engine comes alive with a deep growl that vibrates beneath my hands.
She inhales sharply behind me, running over as she lets out a small, almost-squeal, her excitement impossible to hide.
Her hand slides down my lower back as she settles into the seat, her legs hugging my hips. She molds to my spine, like we are two puzzle pieces made for each other.
She leans in, speaking through the helmet’s Bluetooth. “Take me somewhere the world can’t find us.”
I don’t even respond as I twist the throttle.
We glide down the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires, hitting the pavement as the wind glides past us.
It howls past our helmets, carrying the scent of pine, wildflowers, and a hint of smoke from someone’s distant bonfire.
The deep blue sky folds around us as endless, freckles of starlight scatter amongst it.
