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Air whippedacross my face as we traveled through Moonlit Ridge, and the sunlight that slanted from the blue-spun heavens was warm on my cheeks.
My arms were wrapped around his waist, my front plastered against his back, clinging so tightly I was afraid I might be causing him physical pain. I was afraid if I gave even a fraction, I’d go toppling off onto the pavement that blurred beneath us.
Heat blasted from his body, a blaze against mine, and I did my best to focus on holding on rather than burrowing my nose in the back of his tee to inhale his intoxicating scent.
I needed to be careful. I was already distracted enough.
Tiptoeing so far out of bounds there was no chance I wasn’t going to get caught.
As if he felt the unease ripple through me, River splayed his right hand over my trembling arms that I had locked around him. I knew it was supposed to be some show of comfort, but it only served to freak me out, and I was shouting over the howl of the wind and the roar of the heavy engine, “Two hands!”
I could feel the roll of his dark, deep chuckle, and he squeezedmy arm a little tighter before he reclaimed both handlebars, and he shouted over the battering of the wind, “Told you that I’ve got you.”
River took us all the way to the end of Culberry where it came to a T at Vista View. He made a right onto the two-lane road that wound around to the west side of the lake.
Here, the scenery was gorgeous.
Breathtaking.
What tourists flocked to the mountain-side town to experience in both summer and winter.
A bunch of cabins and homes ran alongside the smooth, crystalline waters, the colossal, peaked mountaintops their backdrop.
Slowing, River took a right, and I held my breath as the bike dipped to the side before he accelerated, the engine a loud grumble, and the motorcycle righted again.
He traveled maybe a quarter of a mile before he slowed even more so he could make the sharp left onto a tree-lined driveway.
I blew out what could only be construed as surprise when I saw the house sitting on what appeared to be about an acre of land.
It gave off a cabin vibe, fronted by dark wood planks and accented by stone. It was two stories with a pitched roof, and abundant, colorful flowers grew from pots situated around the elevated wraparound porch.
River somehow managed to get his phone from his front pocket, and he spread out his legs to support the bike with his booted feet as he punched a code into his phone and the garage door slowly lifted.
He pulled the motorcycle up beside a dark SUV and killed the engine.
In an instant, we were surrounded by a thick, tacky silence.
Uncertainty billowed as strong as the breeze. I kept my arms locked around him because I had no idea what to do at this point.
It’d been different exposing myself through the texts and calls we’d shared over the last two weeks. Coming to the place where I’d felt so comfortable with him that my secrets had begun to pour from the reservoir where I kept them dammed.
My hurts and griefs and fears.
My wants and needs.
I wasn’t sure what to do with it now that he possessed those truths. Now that he was here, in the flesh.
After the panic had melted away and now it was just the two of us. Beating hearts and murmuring spirits.
“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” I could hear the amusement in his voice. The soft care that shouldn’t be possible.
I kept holding on, though playfulness had drifted into my voice. “I don’t think my arms or legs work anymore.”
“Not a problem. I’ll just carry you.” He said it low, with a hint of that suggestion that spread through me like flames.
How it was possible I was thinking about him touching me after what had just happened was beyond me, but there it was, that shivery, throbbing sensation coursing through my body.
“I’m not sure I’d survive that, either.” It came out both timid and wry.
