Chapter 6 #2
“I can’t find my hoodie,” I tell him. “I know I left it in Misha’s truck, and I swear if he gave it to some girl, I may never forgive him.”
“He’d never do that,” Yuri says and then gives a soft laugh. “Trust me, the last thing he wants is to see some girl wearing his little sister’s clothes.”
He has a point, so I let go of the anger I’d just been feeling as Yuri walks off.
I’m still debating whether or not to run inside and ask my Aunt Nina if she has something I can use when I feel a presence right behind me.
Turning, I come face-to-chest with Damien.
Before I can lift my head, my eyes roam over the large expanse of his chest and the ink that’s decorating his forearms. It takes me a second to realize he’s holding a black hoodie in his hands.
When I finally manage to bring my eyes to his, he holds it out to me and says, “I heard you talking to Yuri. You can wear mine if you want.”
It takes me a second to respond, and those awkward seconds of silence have him pulling his hand back. “Or not. You don’t have to. I just thought you might get cold.”
Before he can lower his arm, I reach out and grab onto the hoodie with a force that’s way overkill for the situation.
I’m so afraid he’s going to walk away, though, and take his sweatshirt with him, or worse, give it to someone else.
My fingers tighten on the soft fabric before I clutch it towards my chest while trying really hard to not show how excited I am to have this piece of him.
I nearly moan when I catch the faint scent of his cologne.
This isn’t something he just pulled out of the dryer.
This is something he just had pressed against his own body, and it’s about to be pressed against mine.
If he notices how tightly I’m clutching the fabric, he’s kind enough to not let on.
His dark eyes stay locked on mine, and I don’t look away until the first engine sparks to life with a high-pitched, all-too-familiar sound.
My heart races, and I’m not sure if it’s because of Damien or the anticipation of riding. Probably both.
“Are you sure you won’t need it?” I force myself to ask, even though I tighten my grip, knowing there’s no way in hell I’m ever giving this back to him.
“I’ll be fine, Sitka.”
I nearly melt at hearing him say my name in that deep voice of his.
To cover up what I’m feeling, I find the bottom of his hoodie and pull it over my head.
The scent of him surrounds me, and I’m grateful when someone revs their engine, covering the moan that is impossible to hold back.
He’s still watching me with that same intense look of his when I shove my arms in and pull it down lower.
I can’t see my hands, so I have to shove the sleeves up, but when they keep falling down, he steps closer and grabs onto the cuff and starts to slowly roll the shirt up to my wrist.
I watch his long fingers as he works. It doesn’t seem like he’s going out of his way to touch me, but every once in a while, I feel the brush of his skin against mine, and every time I feel it, there’s a tingling sensation that travels throughout my body.
It’s absurd. One brief touch shouldn’t have this kind of an effect on me, but there’s no denying that it does.
When I hold up my other arm, I see the corner of his mouth lift before he starts rolling this sleeve up to match the other.
As soon as it’s up to my wrist, I expect him to let me go, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he runs his thumb along the palm of my hand, leaving a trail of fire behind that immediately ignites into an inferno deep inside me.
Jesus, he just lit my goddamn body on fire with that one touch.
“It’s still too big on you,” he says before slowly letting my hand go.
“It’s perfect,” I say without thinking, and when his mouth quirks up again, I look down at the hoodie that hangs down past my butt and add, “I mean, it’s not too big. It’ll keep me warm while I ride. Thank you, Damien.”
I don’t want to walk away from him, but I know the others are waiting for us. When I grab my helmet and gloves and start to walk to the garage, Damien falls in step beside me.
“You like to ride?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him, unable to hide the smile I give at the mere mention of riding. “I love it.”
He watches me slip my gloves on before stopping in front of my bike. Not wasting any time, I hike a leg over and pull my helmet on before adjusting my goggles. I swear his dark eyes take in every inch of me before he grins and says, “I’ll do my best to keep up.”
I start my bike and turn my headlight on while the others do the same.
Looking around, I see Allie on a four-wheeler with a not-so-thrilled looking Yulia behind her.
My cousin is gripping the rack behind her and I know she’s going to try like hell to use it for leverage to soften the brutal bouncing those two are about to take.
Misha yells a quick, “Meet up at the top,” and then hangs back with the four-wheeler.
I catch a glimpse of Damien starting the much bigger bike he’s using before pulling his own goggles down. Ev is right beside him, and when Tyoma throws back his head and howls like a fucking maniac, everyone laughs before taking off.
Without looking back, I gun it and shoot down the driveway, already giddy at having the bike beneath me again.
I race past Kostya’s green Kawasaki and veer towards the first trail on the left.
Standing on the pegs, I save my ass from the roughest dips that litter this particular path before sitting back down and racing around the sharp corner.
The thrill never gets old, but my joy is cut short when I hit the wider part of the trail and Misha races past me, effortlessly lifting his front wheel as he goes before lowering it back down and taking the lead.
He knows how badly I want to be able to do that. The most I can manage is a slight lift of the front wheel. It’s been a pain in my ass and a hit to my ego for months, so naturally he takes every opportunity to rub it in my face.
I lean into the next turn and then wince when I hit a dip and can’t lift my butt in enough time.
It stings, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so I keep going until we crest the top of the hill.
I’m not too surprised to find that Dima has managed to beat us.
He often cuts trails and jumps fallen trees to be first. He already has his goggles and helmet off, and he’s not looking nearly as happy as I thought he’d be at getting here first. I slide in next to Misha as the others crest the hill.
Damien’s on Yuri’s old red bike, and I take a second to admire the way he handles the thing.
There’s something insanely hot about a guy on a bike.
It’s getting dark, but with our headlights on, I catch flashes of his tattooed neck and arms. My own bike vibrates pleasantly between my legs, and it’s the perfect accompaniment to the show he’s unknowingly giving me.
It’s also slowly driving me crazy, and when Allie finally catches up with us, it’s a well-timed reminder that now isn’t the place for the thoughts I’m starting to have.