He laughs, and I scan the entrance hall as I pace to my office, hoping no one is going to hinder my speedy visit. “But she was tied up,” he goes on. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“She fucking loved it.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“You know, I think Kate will be totally cool when I tell her.”

I’m ground to a stop. “You’re not fucking telling her,” I practically growl, making Sam laugh.

“Not yet. Not until you open your big gob and enlighten this woman, whom you’re apparently in love with, on what you do for a living. But in the meantime, I’m having fun priming Kate. Where are you?”

I get moving again. “At The Manor collecting my bike.”

“Which one?”

I smile. Sam’s a petrol head too, his Porsche giving him multiple orgasms daily. “The Ducati.”

He whistles. “Why won’t you let me ride that thing?”

Because that thing is precious. Jake’s dream. “You couldn’t handle it.”

“Fuck you.”

I laugh and hang up, arriving at my office and swapping my keys before making a sharp exit to the garages. Sarah catches me in the lobby, just as I’m a few feet from freedom. I carry on walking, and she follows. “Going for a ride?”

“Yep.” Opening the garage door, I scan my rows of bikes before I put on my helmet.

“You only ride when something is on your mind,” she says. By something, she means Jake. It’s my way to feel close to him without being able to be close. I fucking hate that Sarah knows everything there is to know about me. I hate even more that Ava doesn’t. The woman I love should know my soul. I swallow hard and throw my leg over the saddle. But today, I don’t only want to feel close. My rides are soothing when nothing else soothes, but they’re also a glorious time killer. I need that now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I start the engine, tingling everywhere when the exhilarating sound travels through me. I would give anything to have seen Jake ride just once. Anything. For me, as an adrenalin junkie, it even gets my pulse kicking. Jake would have creamed his boxers. I kick the stand up and rev a few times, and Sarah appears in front of me, her mouth moving. She looks irritated, but I can’t hear a damn word she’s saying. It’s a blessing. I snap down my visor and skid off, kicking up clouds of dust that’s probably left her coughing all over the driveway. I shouldn’t laugh. I know I shouldn’t laugh.

But I do.

As I approach the gates, I start to slow, seeing they’re already opening. John’s Range Rover pulls in, and I lift a hand as I pass. As soon as I hit a clear road, I open her up.