Chapter 4 Elle #2
Stan’s hand is already outstretched, waiting. I hesitate, just for a second, before placing mine in his. His palm is firm and steady, as if he expected me to take it.
He pulls me closer, and I nearly stumble. The smoothness of his movements leaves me a little off balance. Then he picks up a helmet and gently slides it over my head, his fingers brushing against my skin as he adjusts the strap beneath my chin.
“There,” he says. “Wouldn’t want anything happening to that pretty head of yours.”
I try to even out my breath from the unexpected tenderness of his touch.
His grin turns as wicked as the gleam in his gray eyes. “Still speechless? Damn, I’m getting better.”
I breathe deeply, trying to hold on to whatever composure I have left.
But it’s difficult, especially when his fingers brush so closely.
And I realize, as I stare into his gray eyes, that something about his gaze makes my pulse hasten.
Familiar in a way that unsettles me. But the memory slips before I can catch it.
Blinking a bit, I watch him pull back, looking satisfied. “You look good in my gear,” he notes, giving me a quick glance up and down. “Now, let’s see how you look holding onto me.”
He pats the space behind him again. I eye the bike, feeling the heat creep back. The seat looks narrow, too close to him.
Stan chuckles at my hesitation. “Come on, Elle. It’s easy. Step on the peg, swing your leg over, and”—he places my hand against his side—“hold on to me tight.”
I follow his instructions, feeling awkward in my loose shirt and tights as I slide onto the leather. My hands hover uncertainly at his sides, unsure how to place them.
Stan glances back, smirking. “Oh, come on. You can do better than that.”
Before I can protest, he grabs my wrists and pulls them around his waist. I freeze when my front presses on his back.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I don’t answer. Heat flares as my fingers meet the solid lines of his body.
His chest moves with each breath, sending a ripple through my arms as he laughs. “Ooh, that feels good, Elle.”
I grip tighter, barely able to breathe. The engine roars to life beneath me, sending vibrations through my entire body.
Stan smirks over his shoulder, sunlight catching on his skin. My breath catches as I take him in. His hands steady on the handlebars, all confidence and ease. “You keep starin’ at me like that, Elle, and I’m gonna start getting funny ideas.”
I flutter my eyes, trying to will away the heat. “I was just wondering…” I clear my throat, changing the subject. “Are you going to wear a helmet too?”
“Aww. Ya worried about me?”
Before I can respond, he reaches for his own helmet, sliding it on. And just like that, he looks even more devastating. The helmet enhances the sharp cut of his jaw, and the way his eyes gleam behind the tinted visor.
He winks. My pulse stumbles. “Now, you’re really staring,” he teases.
Thankfully, he faces forward and revs the engine, sparing me from any more embarrassment.
The engine hums beneath us, and my fingers curl around his flexing torso.
I hold on tighter than I probably need to, but the rush of speed makes me act on instinct, as he drives us out of the estate and into the connected road.
The wind whips past us, sending loose strands of my hair flying. But all I can focus on is the way his body moves with the bike, the way it feels like I’m in sync with him.
“You still with me back there, Elle?” Stan calls over his shoulder, his voice cutting through the roar of the wind.
“Yeah…!” I shout through the helmet.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through my chest. “Didn’t think you’d be this shy. I guess you like playing it safe.”
I bristle at that, tightening my grip. I can’t help the small frown on my lips, glad he can’t see it. “…I can handle a little danger.”
“Oh?” His amusement is unmistakable.
Without warning, he accelerates, the bike surging forward with so much speed that I gasp. My arms instinctively squeeze him, and my chest presses flush against his back. The wind cuts through everything else. The adrenaline rushes in, my heart hammering with it.
Stan laughs, clearly pleased with my reaction. “That’s more like it.”
I should probably be perturbed. But I’m not when the thrill sends a wave of electricity through me.
“See?” he teases. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
I don’t trust my voice enough to answer. Instead, I focus on the rhythm of the road, the way Stan moves with it, completely in control.
He leans the bike sharply to one side, weaving between lanes speedily. My heart jumps to my throat when the bike tilts a bit more, just enough that it feels like we might tip. But we don’t. Stan straightens out right in time, the motion smooth and confident.
I can feel his laughter through his back. “That scare ya?”
“No,” I lie, my pulse racing. My fingers dig into his shirt. “But please warn me next time.”
“Oh, come on,” he whines. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Before I can protest, he revs the engine again, picking up speed. The bike surges forward again, the wind whipping against me like it’s trying to rip the air out of my lungs.
My stomach drops as he lifts the front wheel slightly off the asphalt, a controlled wheelie that lasts only long enough to make me squeeze him even more.
I feel his chuckle. “Hold on, Elle. Don’t want you falling for me too hard.”
The thrill takes over, and I’m not sure how to stop it. Or if I even want to. The rush is too intense to think about anything else.
Stan slows down slightly, easing off the throttle. “Alright.” His voice is full of mischief. “I’m feeling generous. I’ll warn ya this time.”
“Warn me about what…?” I manage to ask, breathless.
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he shifts his weight, and then the world spins around me. He takes a sharp, calculated turn that makes my heart leap.
My breath falters. Fear and exhilaration collide in an intense wave. Stan’s laughter fills my ears, unrestrained, and I can feel it in my chest. It’s pure and unfiltered, like the speed itself is something he’s addicted to. I can see why.
“Still with me?” he calls over the wind.
Unexpectedly, I laugh. It bursts out of me, breathless and giddy. The reckless freedom of it all hits me like another wave.
“Yeah,” I manage to get out between breaths. “But this is insane.”
I can hear the grin in his voice. “Yeah, but you love it!”
And maybe, I do. But I don’t have time to figure out why, because the next second, he speeds up even more.
The wind rips against my helmet so violently I can barely catch my breath.
He slows soon after, the bike evening out as we approach a stretch of glowing lights in the distance.
The city opens up, its lights shining in a dazzling contrast to the quiet roads we left behind.
For a moment, I forget everything else. All I can focus on is the wind in my hair, the feel of Stan in my arms, and the thrilling speed that pulls me into the present.
The bike slows down much more, its rumble quieting as we approach a new stretch of road toward a sparkling plaza.
Storefronts gleam beneath warm lighting, their windows adorned with designer fashion and fine jewelry.
The sides of the streets are lined with sleek sports cars that reflect off the glossy pavement.
Well-dressed folks walk around, laughing and chatting.
The bike moves smoothly with Stan, and my gaze drifts back to him. He parks, the bike coming to a stop.
My arms are stiff from holding onto him, and as he stops, I finally loosen my grip, and take a deep, relaxed breath.
Stan reaches up first, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his short dark hair. But I barely notice him now. All I can see is the plaza, the light catching on glass, with silver jewels winking in storefronts. My heart pounds at the view. It’s like stepping into a world too grand for me to be in.
Stan notices. “Getting a good look?”
I nod before I can think better of it. “It’s…incredible.”
He chuckles, swinging a leg over the bike as he stands up. “Yeah?” he says. “Then let’s take a walk. Show me what catches your eye, and we can grab some proper food while we’re at it.”
His invitation pulls me out of my thoughts. For a moment, I’m stuck, my mind clinging to the fragments of memories that seem so far out of reach. But then curiosity wins.
I slide off the bike and take his offered hand. The warmth of his palm against mine sends an unexpected jolt through me, and I wonder if I’m more drawn to the plaza and its silvery shimmers, or if it’s Stan with his easy charm and the way he watches me.
Then his hands reach for my helmet. Before I can even react, he’s unfastening the strap with gentleness I didn’t expect again. His fingers brush against my skin, and the air feels warmer all of a sudden.
My helmet’s off, and the morning breeze rushes through my hair.
My breath catches when I see the color of his eyes.
Dark gray and familiar. I blink and imagine Damon’s eyes.
Then—with another blink—I envision the masked man’s eyes.
A chill runs down my spine at the memory of his presence consuming me in a way that felt like suffocating on smoke.
And now Stan, standing here with that same intensity, looks like he knows something I don’t.
My pulse speeds up, but I can’t find the words. I can’t break the silence between us, and for a second, I wonder if he feels the tension too.
“See? You survived,” he says teasingly.
I blink, taking in his words. I force a small smile, though I’m not sure how convincing it is. “Barely…”
He grins and breaks the tension inside me with a light laugh that somehow makes everything feel fine again.
I blink a bit more, taking a steadying breath, trying to push away the unfamiliar feelings swirling in my chest. What just happened?
But before I can fully process it, Stan’s voice pulls me back. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go scandalize the rich, then find something to eat that tastes as good as we look.”
I let out a quiet laugh before I can stop it. My fingers wrap around his offered hand. I feel even warmer now, more relaxed.
The plaza stretches before us. Shop windows sparkle with trinkets behind glass. People move around us, voices blending with the musical strings of a violin. It’s playing a song I know, but can’t recall entirely. Though, it’s a pleasant slow song all the same.
Stan walks beside me, his hands in his pockets, glancing at me. “Go on,” he says. “Lead the way, Elle.”
I hesitate, my fingers curling into the hem of my shirt. The moment stretches, but there’s no pressure. He’s simply waiting. I take a step, then another, weaving toward a side street lined with hanging flowers.
A shop window catches my attention, with its display of delicate porcelain teacups, their gold rims glowing in the light.
“Pretty,” Stan muses beside me. I turn to find him watching me, a smile on his face. “Didn’t peg you for a bone china kind of girl. That’s the kind we have back home.”
I blink, unsure how to respond. His smile widens, and a quiet laugh escapes me. It’s rather light, even as a chill brushes the back of my thoughts.
We keep walking, the hesitation lifting away again with every step. A fountain catches my eye, its marble figures frozen in a graceful pose. Nearby, a bakery window sparkles with golden tarts, their layers glistening in the sunlight.
I don’t even realize I’m smiling until Stan nudges me lightly. “You’re enjoying yourself.”
I pause. Maybe I am. For a second, I try to recall what had been tugging at me, or what had made my chest feel tight. But those thoughts are slipping away now, like the last remnants of a dream before waking up.
I feel the warmth of the moment, the way Stan’s gaze stays on me, easy and patient.
The door swings open and a wave of warmth greets us, along with the inviting scents of sugar, butter, and vanilla. We step into the bakery, and for a moment, I let it all wrap around me.
Stan stands beside me. “See something you like?” he asks.
I glance over the display of pastries and sweets, and before I know it, I’m ordering green tea. It feels like instinct.
Stan chuckles. “Of course you would.”
I raise a brow, meeting his playful gaze.
“You’re too elegant for anything else,” he says, before turning to order a frozen coffee drowning in whipped cream and syrup. The barista nods like she’s preparing it for royalty. But I suppose the Song-Smiths must be seen as such in this area, given their wealth.
We step aside, waiting, and I think we’re done, until he casually adds, “And one of everything behind the glass, please.”
I blink, watching tray after tray stack up. “You’re serious…?” I ask, glancing between him and the growing mountain of sugary treats.
Stan shrugs. “I like variety.”
“Are you going to eat all of that?”
He flashes me a smirk. “Not by myself. You’re helping.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “That’s insane.”
“And you love it,” he counters with that confident grin.
When we sit, I try to nibble at the pastry, but it’s too sweet. I blow on my tea, trying to ease the discomfort, but it’s too hot. All the while, Stan’s telling me about his family’s place, how things probably changed since Damon recently inherited the estate, but then his tone switches.
“Anyway, you’re eating half of this,” he says, nudging a pastry toward me.
I scrunch my face, giving him an apologetic frown. “Hmm, way too sweet.”
“Who? Me?” he jokes.
I smile, shaking my head, then sip my tea, nearly burning my tongue but not reacting. It was the perfect temperature when I was drinking with Clo, but then again, this tea’s not too bitter.
“Really pretty.” Stan’s gaze is on me. “You, smiling.”
I quickly take another sip to cover the blush that’s surely spreading across my cheeks. Stan doesn’t press further, instead offering me another pastry. I take a bite from his hand. His fingers touching my lips makes my pulse skip.
“Tasty?” he asks, quieter now.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Nice,” he says. “But I’m not done spoiling you yet.”
I glance at him, then look away quickly, the heat in my cheeks betraying me. When I look back, he’s still studying me, his smirk teasing.
“Go on, keep staring. I can pose if you want,” he says.
I scoff softly, though my lips twitch up. I can’t help it. I look at him again, and he seems pleased.
His laugh is warm, and for reasons other than tea, so is my chest.