Page 138 of Rogue Riders Duet

“Nothing would be embarrassing to me. Believe me. I don’t even know how to feel embarrassed.” I let that hang there because it’s true. I don’t have the wiring for shame. “You could talk to me about anything, lay out your worst thoughts, your weirdest shit, and I’d probably ask for more details. Nothing rattles me. Nothing makes me flinch.”

The conflict is clear in his eyes. He wants to trust me. I can see it, feel it in every breath he takes against my chest, but he’s still afraid. Probably bracing for the moment I pull away. So I don’t. Instead, I press another kiss to his temple.

“You don’t have to tell me the details, just tell me you’ll be okay, please.”

His head dips, resting against me again in a slow, exhausted nod, his hand flattening more firmly over my stomach, and fuck, my cock stirs at the touch.

I grit my teeth through it. Not the right fucking moment, ami.

“Yeah,” he answers. “In a day or three.”

“Okay,” I murmur, my fingers trailing lazily down the curve of his spine. “We’ve got at least eight hours to kill, how about you tell me something about yourself?”

He shifts, eyes flicking toward Otis up front, who’s still driving like he’s got nowhere to be and all day to get there. His grin is plastered wide, nodding along to the music playing low through the speakers.

I jerk my chin at him. “Fisher, crank it up a little, yeah?”

Otis flashes a thumbs-up, turns the dial, and the bus fills with sound, some old-school French pop song, upbeat and ridiculous, but it makes Petit soften more into me, the edge of his mouth tugging toward a smile.

He lets out a soft huff of breath. “We already had me spilling my guts. How about you tell me something?”

“What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

“You said you weren’t well either,” he reminds me, his voice softer now. “I didn’t forget that. I just wasn’t… in the state of mind to ask. I’m sorry. You can tell me now.”

“You don’t seem in the state of mind now either,” I tease, keeping my voice light.

He tucks his head under my jaw. “Oh, right now?” he murmurs. “I’m perfectly fine.”

That flips something inside me. Hard.

“Well, I probably should save that kind of story for a friend.” Pulling back just enough to catch his eye, I smirk at him. “And like you told me…” I let my knuckles glide gently along his faintly flushed cheek and watch the way his lashes flutter at the touch. “You’re not my friend.”

“Right.” Petit hums, averting his gaze down to his hand as his fingers drift lower, skimming over the waistband of my sweats. It’s like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing.

Heat pools low in my stomach, and I hold my breath, my pulse kicking. My hand flies to his wrist, catching hold before that innocent little touch turns me into a goddamn mess right here in kicking distance of Otis.

“Don’t tempt me, Petit,” I murmur, linking our fingers as my lips brush the shell of his ear. “I’m already hanging by a thread.”

His lashes lift, and when those big brown eyes meet mine, there’s something there that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like maybe none of this is accidental at all.

“I’m pretty sure you’re just talk,” he whispers back.

Mon Dieu.

I let go of his hand, but only to slide mine up, fingers trailing along the line of his jaw until I catch his chin between my thumb and forefinger, so I can tilt his face toward me and ease him into my orbit. My thumb traces the curve of his bottom lip slowly, feeling the soft give of it beneath my touch.

His breath stutters, lips parting just enough to let me feel it ghost against my skin. My eyes flick between his mouth and those wide, searching eyes, soaking in every flicker of hesitation, every crackle of want.

I lean in, closer still, until there’s nothing but heat between us. The faint brush of his breath mixes with mine, the space tightening until it feels like one wrong move will tip us over the edge.

“Give me permission,” I whisper, lips grazing his but never quite touching. “Let me show you just how much I’m not talk.”

I hold there, suspended in the space between us, the air charged and vibrating. The tension is so tight it could snap with a breath, and mon Dieu, I want it to. I want him to close the gap, to say yes, to let me.

But then he hiccups, breaking the spell just enough to pull a grin from me.

I chuckle and lean back, but only to gather him in again, and wrap him up, tucking his head to my chest like I’m afraid he might float away if I don’t hold him close enough.