Page 98 of Trust

I look up at him, my brows drawing together. “I... you were so careful with me. I didn’t mean to, I don’t know, disappoint you.”

“You didn’t disappoint me.” He shakes his head slowly. “You let me see you. You let me be there, and you stayed with me. I’m not sure you understand what that means to someone like me.”

I am speechless. A warm pressure builds beneath my ribs, as if my chest suddenly has more space in it and he’s the reason. My throat constricts in that stupid way it does when words matter more than I want to admit. This goes deeper than plain attraction. It’s the kisses, the almosts, the fact that he backed away when I wasn’t ready. I don’t know if I am now, but I want to be.

I step forward and hug him, my face pressed into his hoodie, the scent of citrus and pine wrapping around me. I take a deep breath of courage. “Let’s do it tonight.”

He lifts his head, but I can’t look at him. My mouth was braver than the rest of me. His hands slide up to my shoulders, easing me back so he can cup my chin and make me meet his eyes.

“Do what?”

His gaze is so intense it almost robs me of air.

“Do what?” he asks again, firmer now.

“You know what,” I whisper, hoping he won’t make me say it.

“I need to hear it from you, Sara. I need to know exactly what you’re talking about.” His eyes search mine, wide with passion, waiting.

I reach for the hand not holding my chin and guide it down, placing it at my backside. My heartbeat thrums in my ears. The forest around us grows eerie, as if even the trees have turned their attention to us. My voice is barely more than a tremor.

“Take me here.”

The instant the words are out, the world tilts. His hungry lips crash onto mine. His tongue sweeps into me, devouring me. The hand on my chin slides up into my hair, gripping tight, immobilizing me as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away.

Dizzying heat rolls through me. His chest is solid against mine, his body crowding me until the forest disappears. There’s only him, his hands, his mouth. The raw urgency that tells me how much he wants this.

I cling to him, lost in his warmth, the taste of his breath. My body sparks alive beneath his touch, and if this is the cliff I’m supposed to step away from, well, I’m running right toward it.

◆◆◆

The sun burns high with an Indian-summer blaze gilding everything it touches when we reach the quad.

“Your turn,” Cash says casually, slapping the seat.

I laugh nervously. “What?”

He tosses me the keys. “Dead serious.”

“Cash.” My confidence wavers. “I’ve never... driven anything except a bike.”

“You don’t need experience to go ten miles an hour across a field,” he says, grinning. “Come on. It’s easier than it looks. I’ll be right behind you. Literally.”

I hesitate, then mutter, “Dad always said I was too reckless to drive.”

Cash steps closer as if he wants to tell me a secret. “Your dad’s full of shit.”

That makes me smile. I climb on, less awkward this time, and he swings up behind me, guiding my hands onto the handlebars.

He talks me through the basics: throttle, brakes, how to turn slowly, how to steer. I listen hard, desperate to remember everything so I don’t wreck us.

Then we’re moving.

It’s jerky at first, wobbly. A startled laugh escapes me. Shitshitshit ricochets through my head when I nearly oversteer. Cash keeps his hands near mine, not taking control but staying close enough to guide me. Then it clicks. The ride smooths out, and I dare to go faster. Wind whipping past, heart in my throat, I laugh again, wild and free this time.

When we roll into the clearing near the cabin, I’m practically glowing. I hop off, tear off the helmet, and stare at the machine in disbelief.

“I drove that,” I state the obvious, emphasizing the I.