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Her face is quickly incredulous. “But you made it shitty in the first place.”
“I can’t help it,” I mutter, accepting that we’ll never move on unless I bend a little. And I want to move on. On to The Manor, then on to my bed. We need to reconnect. Make friends properly. We need to close our bubble again, because in our bubble, there’s no interference. The horrible feeling in my chest is non-existent. We’re safe.
“Of course you can,” she exclaims.
She’s so wrong. Where Ava is concerned, I’m at the mercy of a power far stronger than any reason I could find if I had the energy or inclination to find it. Which I don’t. I’m ruled by desperation. Driven by fear. I don’t want to be. It just is, and she doesn’t help the matter by fighting me on just about every-fucking-thing. “No, with you, I can’t help it.” But I might be able to if she relents and constantly feeds this odd, unrelenting hunger. Speaking of which... “Come here.” I lead her over to my bike and she frowns at the bag as I open it.
“What’s this?” she asks, definite worry lacing her tone.
“You’ll need them.” I pull out the rather fetching pair of leather trousers and present them to her. Realization hits her like a brick. Literally.
She jumps back, shaking her head. “Jesse, I’m not getting on that thing.”
Wrong. She’s definitely getting on that thing, and I’m going to love every second of her pushed up close to my back. I drop to a knee and shake out the trousers. “On.”
“No.”
I look up, ready to wrestle her into them, but the genuine anxiousness blanketing her face stops me and has me rising, moving in close, feeling at her face.
“Listen to me, lady,” I whisper softly. “Do you honestly think I would let anything happen to you?”
“They scare me,” she murmurs, gazing at me, searching for the reassurance she wants. She’s found it. I’m right here.
Getting my face close to hers, I smile on the inside, feeling her lean into me. Wanting to get close. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
You shouldn’t.
I swallow and kick that thought away, planting a light kiss on her nose before crouching and removing her cute red pumps. Truth be told, I’m amazed at her answer.She trusts me.Even though my behavior with her is somewhat... intense.
Slowly covering her from head to toe in protective leathers, literally wrapping her in cotton wool, I ignore Jake’s irritating whine in my ear asking me why the hell I didn’t buy myself some while I was at the store. It didn’t cost me a thought. Never does. Reckless, I know, but I lost any sense of self-care long ago. But now?
I should definitely get some leathers.
“Take the pins out of your hair,” I say, stuffing her things away, waiting for her to chastise me for being so rough with her new dress. The dress that’s conveniently going to go missing very soon.
“Where areyourleathers?” she asks, her hands in her hair feeling around, pulling grips out here and there. My mind blanks, not only because of her question, but because I’m being blitzed by some pretty fucking incredible memories of me plucking millions of the things from her hair after the Lusso launch night.
“I don’t need them,” I say mindlessly.
“Why, are you indestructible?”
“No, lady, self-destructible.”
Her frown is instant, and so is my regret. “What does that mean?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I shove her helmet on quickly before she can challenge me, making sure it’s snug and safe before lifting the visor. The second I have her eyes again, I know my hope of avoiding my cock-up is wasted.
“You should wear protective clothing,” she grumbles, motioning down her front. “You’re making me.”
“I’m not prepared to take any risks with you.”Because you’re precious, and I am not.“Anyway...” I go on, keen to change the subject, giving her leather-clad arse a little slap, “you look fucking hot.”But hotter in lace.I drape her bag across her body. “When I’m on, put your left foot on the peg and swing your right leg over, okay?” I say, slipping my helmet on and mounting my bike. She steps forward and, with a grace that’s not at all surprising, she gets on the back.
“I feel too high.”
“You’re fine,” I say, looking back at her. “Hold on around my waist, but not too tight. When I lean, gently lean with me and don’t put your feet down when I stop. Keep them on the pegs. Clear?” She nods, and I smile, seeing excitement past the anxiousness. “Put your visor down,” I say, knocking mine into place as she follows suit, settling into my back, her thighs framing me. This takes the thrill of riding to a whole new level.
I start the engine and push back into the road, checking for traffic before pulling off uncharacteristically slowly.
