“Oh, no way.” He backs up a little.

I rode here with Tony, thankfully. That means I have the second helmet. There’s no way I’d let Nathaniel get on my bike without proper protection. He’s too important.

“Here.” I shove Tony’s leather jacket and the helmet into his chest.

I throw a leg over my Yamaha R7, reach for my own helmet, and pull it on.

“You ride this?” he asks, still eyeing the bike.

“Yep. And if you shut up and get on, it won’t be the only thing I’m riding tonight.”

I snap the visor shut and rev the engine.

Nathaniel’s eyes are still wide, but he hurries over and climbs on behind me.

“I trust you,” he says, strapping on the helmet.

Hearing that from him feels like everything.

I peel out of the alley and head toward home. It's only a 20-minute ride from Sarah’s place, but my heart pounds the entire way.

He’s holding on tight—arms around my waist, thighs pressed to mine—and I swear, I’ve never felt more alive.

Nathaniel Philips kissed me tonight.

And I hope we do so much more.

32

nathan

My body practically trembles with excitement the moment I hop off the back of his bike.

“That was incredible,” I laugh, shaking out my hair as Caleb parks in the underground garage of his building.

“Now you see why I’m obsessed with the thing,” he says, smiling and running a hand through his hair.

“Have you named it yet?” I ask, holding the stairwell door open as we exit the garage.

“Yeah…” he murmurs, nervously biting his lip as he walks ahead of me.

I groan and roll my eyes. “You didn’t.”

“Listen, she was with me when I bought it. It felt fitting at the time,” he laughs over his shoulder.

“No wonder you two were so tied together. Naming your bike after her? You might as well have performed a blood-binding ceremony,” I tease as we walk down the hallway toward the elevator. He presses the button for the 10th floor, and we both wait as the doors close. I clutch Caleb’s helmet in my hands, and he does the same.

He looks so good in this gear. Of course he’s a motorcycle guy. It fits him perfectly.

I shake my head, laughing to myself.

“What?” he grins.

“I just can’t believe I’m here,” I say, swallowing hard. His eyes flick to my throat, and I know he notices. He shuts his mouth, his smile fading into something darker, more intense.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmurs, closing the space between us. He shifts his helmet to the side and presses his body against mine, our pelvises aligning in one perfect, aching line.

He tilts his head and kisses me hard—urgent, like he can’t wait another second. We both breathe heavily, our hips grinding together.

Just then, the elevator dings. We break apart quickly, giving ourselves space.

We must look crazed because the elderly woman who enters looks at us with confusion and mild alarm.