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“No.” His voice is deep and rough, and he grabs the edge of the workbench before he hangs his head.
I don’t know what he means. Yes, I’m a bad kisser. No, I wasn’t what he expected?
Turning around, he leans against the counter, crossing his ankles. The look in his eyes alone makes my shoulders slump and has me fighting against my stupid tears.
I take a step back, trying to protect myself from what he is about to tell me. What I’m sure he is going to say. He must have groupies fanning all over him on tour.
He prowls closer, and I hang my head. I don’t want him to see me bawl my eyes out.
His eyes widen. “Fuck, babe, I’m sorry.”
I blink furiously, fighting my tears.
“Come here,” he grunts, a slow smile curling his lips as he takes me into his arms. I let my cheek rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Pulling me closer, he kisses the top of my head. His finger slides beneath my chin, gently lifting, forcing me to look in his eyes. Hardening against my stomach he doesn’t take a step back. His eyes dilate as I try to tear my gaze away from his, but he keeps me captive with intense stare. “We can’t,” he says.
“We can’t what?”
“This,” he tells me, his hands moving into my hair. “For one, your dad and brothers will kill me. Hell, my dad will kill me.” He chuckles, his hand moving to the back of my neck, holding me in place against his strong body.
Slowly, I shake my head in silence. His eyes dart down. Reaching out, he moves his thumb back and forth over my chin.
“Fuck, I need to talk to them. Don’t I?” he whispers, never breaking eye contact.
I breathe in deeply, wanting to feel his lips on my own again. I nod, a slow smile spreading across my face.
“Shit Alice, I never thought?”
“What?” I ask, feeling braver with every second I’m still in his arms.
“That life would never be the same.” He raises his eyes to the ceiling. “Babe, you make me say the stupidest fucking romantic shit.” His lips twitch into a sexy smirk. Closing his eyes, he takes possession of my mouth again, and our lips start moving together in a relentless rhythm.
“Come on, you can do it. Push it in like last time,” Rone roars, laughing at his own joke.
I roll my eyes, concentrating on the task at hand: not crashing the bike in a ditch.
“Like this?” I ask, turning the key. The dirt bike rumbles to life. The vibration moves from my hands, which clutch the handlebars, to my stomach and my feet, though I barely reach the ground with the tips of my toes. The helmet is heavy on my head. My hands are clammy and sweat pours down my back. Why did I ever ask him to teach me how to ride a motorcycle?
My dad and Gunner can both ride. Axl is the only one who doesn’t care for two wheels. I have never given it much thought. It is something my father and brother do, not me. I never believed in myself enough to try, but Navarone has persuaded me.
“Relax. Remember riding with me and how it felt.”
“It feels daunting and scary.” I bite the inside of my cheek, or try to; the helmet is making it hard for me to breathe. He gives me a reassuring smile.
“Check it out; there is no one here,” he says, pointing to the stretch of road no car or bike has passed in the last couple of hours. “You can do it, babe. You can do anything you set your mind to.”
My cheeks flame. During the last week, we have stolen kisses when no one has been watching. I figure Gunner knows something is going on, but luckily, Axl and Dad have no idea.
“Now squeeze in the clutch with your left hand and with your foot, push the gear into first.”
He has me wearing the full protective clothing: gloves, pants, jacket, and shoes he has bought for me. I don’t know what to think. I’m sweating and ready to throw up. Adrenaline courses through my veins. I grab hold of the clutch and push the bike into first.
“Now, very slowly let go of the clutch. Don’t pull on the gas. Hold it steady and let the bike glide forward,” he tells me.
I nod and let go of the clutch. The bike starts to move and I’m driving down the road. He walks a couple of steps next to me, making sure I’m doing okay. Reaching the end of the lane, I stop, my heart beating out of my chest. I’ve done it. I’ve made it to the end.
“Now turn the bike off and shove the kickstand out with your foot,” he says, a proud smile on his lips.
