Chapter Ten
Violet
“Hop on,” March said, patting the seat behind him.
I hesitated. I’d enjoyed our last ride, even if it had been a bit scary at first. But I had a life growing inside me. Was it safe to keep riding with him like this? He revved the engine, and my feet carried me over to him, almost as if on their own. I swung my leg over the seat and settled behind him, placing my feet where he’d shown me before, and putting my hands on his waist.
“Wrap your arms around me,” March instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I slid my arms around his waist, feeling the hard planes of his stomach beneath my fingers. His scent enveloped me, and I breathed him in.
“Ready?” His voice was almost gentle now, a stark contrast to the usual authority it carried.
“Ready.”
He chuckled softly. I clutched at him tighter, my nails digging into the leather of his cut, as he eased toward the driveway.
“Remember, hold on tight,” he said.
And then we picked up speed and took off, the clubhouse disappearing behind us as the motorcycle devoured the road beneath its wheels. I pressed my face into his back, allowing his presence to shelter me from the onslaught of speed and sound.
“Never let go, Vi,” he shouted back at me, and I could only nod against him, my world reduced to the thunderous heartbeat of the motorcycle and the man who commanded it.
The world stretched infinitely, a canvas of black asphalt and lingering twilight. March leaned into every curve, the bike an extension of his own steely will. Wind clawed at my hair, tugging it free from any semblance of order. I tightened my grip on him, the solid certainty of his presence anchoring me.
“Keep your eyes open, Vi,” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “You don’t want to miss anything.”
I forced my eyes open as the landscape blurred into streaks of darkening colors, smudges of green and brown that fought against the encroaching night. My breath came in short bursts, the air crisp and biting as it filled my lungs. Exhilaration filled me, spreading warmth. I found myself leaning with March, embracing the rhythm of the ride.
“Good, Violet,” March’s approval cut through the rushing wind. “Feel it, don’t fight it. Lean with the bike.”
My heart hammered, not in dread now, but in wild abandon. The countryside flew past us, a painting in motion, and I was part of it. Each breath I took was laced with the scent of earth and adrenaline, a heady mix that set my senses alight.
March glanced back at me, a glint of something fierce and proud in his blue eyes. In that moment, as the bike ate up the miles beneath us, I realized I was soaring. Not just clinging to March but flying beside him through the dusk.
The road curved, a serpentine path that snaked through an ocean of rolling hills and lush meadows. March’s grip on the throttle was steady, confidence radiating from him. He navigated each bend with precision, a master of motion and momentum. I clung to him, thrilling in every twist and turn.
I dared to lift my gaze, and the landscapes unfurled like pages in a storybook. Hills dipped and rose, with mountain peaks as a backdrop. The sun ignited the horizon in flames of orange and red. Trees stood as sentinels along our route, their leaves whispering secrets long forgotten.
We were poetry in motion, the motorcycle and us, a symphony of growling engine and whistling wind. A hunger filled me for the unknown stretches of road ahead.
“It’s beautiful!” I yelled over the wind.
“Nothing compared to you,” he shouted back, the words almost lost but not quite. They reached me and wrapped around my soul like a promise.
Each sharp turn we took was a dance, and I was learning the steps -- one beat of exhilaration at a time. We leaned into the curves, a perfect balance of danger and control. The motorcycle’s tires kissed the asphalt like a lover’s embrace.
Freedom. It coursed through me, a potent drug that filled my veins with liquid fire. With March, I tasted life raw and unfiltered. The world stretched out before us, vast and untamed, and I wanted to devour it whole.
“Never stop,” I said as close to his ear as possible, wanting to be heard over the wind. “I want to ride forever.”
“We’ll ride whenever you want to.”
We charged forward, two hearts racing in tandem, chasing the fading light as it retreated into the embrace of dusk. And in that chase, I found something I never knew I’d lost -- a piece of myself.
The engine’s growl softened. March was easing off the throttle. I glanced up, catching his eyes in the sideview mirror. That small smile of his played on his lips again. I loved this side of him.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“More than I thought possible,” I admitted.
“Good.”
We banked a gentle curve, and there it was -- a vista so vast it stole my breath. March pulled over, the motorcycle coming to a rest with a final purr. The world around us stood still for just a moment, holding its breath along with mine.
“Wow.” My whisper felt sacrilegious in the face of such beauty.
“Come on.” He swung his leg over the bike, gesturing for me to join him.
I dismounted, boots crunching on gravel, and followed March’s lead to where the earth fell away into eternity. The view stretched out endlessly before us, a tapestry of greens and golds woven together by an unseen artist’s hand.
“Beautiful,” I murmured.
The world was quieter here. I took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs and steady my nerves.
“Come on.” March’s voice was soft but insistent.
I moved forward, drawn inexorably toward the precipice. The edge of the cliff beckoned like a promise, the drop beyond it a whisper of danger. The land below sprawled out in a riot of color, rolling hills undulating in the afternoon sun. Fields of green clashed against patches of earthy brown, the natural palette vibrant and alive.
March’s presence was solid beside me, an anchor in the fluid landscape. He stood close enough for his warmth to seep into me. His gaze, usually so piercing, now softened as he surveyed the horizon, the lines of his face relaxing into something almost serene.
“Never gets old,” he murmured, his words floating away on the wind. “I like to come here when it feels like the walls are closing in on me.”
The beauty of the scene was stark, almost brutal in its splendor. It was a life of contrasts, where moments of peace were hard-won and all the more precious for it. Which made me cherish this moment even more.
We stood silently together, just admiring the scenery. There was no need for words. The view said everything that needed to be said. We were just two people enjoying a rare moment of tranquility in the embrace of nature’s grand design.
I turned to March, my breath catching at the raw intensity in his blue eyes, reflecting the dying light. This man turned me inside out. He made me feel so many things, and with an intensity that scared me sometimes.
“Thank you,” I whispered, the words barely escaping before he closed the distance between us.
His lips met mine with a force that spoke volumes, more than we could ever say aloud. The kiss wasn’t just a meeting of mouths. It was an exchange of silent promises and unspoken understandings. My arms instinctively wrapped tighter around him, clinging to the man who had become my unexpected haven in a world that had shown me too much darkness.
I felt his fingers trail along my jaw, grounding me to the moment. Our connection crackled like the air before a storm, electric and unstoppable. Reluctantly, we parted. The sun dipped lower, streaking the sky with orange and purple hues, a fiery backdrop to our silhouette.
“Time to go,” March said, his voice rough, edged with the same reluctance that mirrored mine.
“Yeah.” The word was merely a whisper.
We moved toward the bike, my legs still shaky from the ride and the emotions that coursed through us. Mounting the motorcycle once again, the leather seat felt different now, almost welcoming. I settled behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist with a newfound sense of belonging.
The engine roared to life beneath us, a beast awakened, and with one final glance at the horizon, we surged forward. The clubhouse awaited our return. I carried with me the afterglow of the sunset and the heat of March’s kiss, embers of a fire that promised to burn long into the night. I wondered if we’d spend another night wrapped in each other’s arms.
March’s body was a solid presence in front of me. I clung to him, the rumble of the engine a steady thrum between my thighs.
Trees blurred into shadows as we raced past, their branches reaching out like fingers trying to snatch at the last light of day. The wind was colder now, the warmth of the sun a mere memory against our skin. But inside, a heat lingered, stoked by March’s unwavering strength and the intensity of his kiss.
He leaned into a curve, the bike tilting, but his control was absolute. This man, with his scars and his solemn eyes, held my safety in his hands as deftly as he handled the machine under us. Lights flickered in the distance, and March’s posture shifted, signaling that our ride was coming to a close.
The motorcycle slowed, its growl subsiding to a purr as we approached the entrance. He brought it to a halt, the silence of the engine magnifying the sudden stillness around us.
“Here we are,” March said, his voice low and gravelly, slicing through the quiet.
“Back to reality,” I replied, unwilling to let go of the freedom the ride had given me.
March turned slightly, his blue eyes catching the faint light. “Not all of it has to end.”
His words brought back our kiss, and my cheeks warmed. It looked like we’d be spending another night with me screaming his name and him sending me to new heights. I wasn’t going to complain. I craved March like a drug.
My legs trembled as I slid off the bike. March’s hands were on my waist in an instant, steadying me.
“Got you,” he murmured.
“Thanks.” My heart raced, not from the ride but from him, from us.
We locked eyes for a moment, something unspoken passing between us. Then, hand in hand, we turned toward the clubhouse. His grip was firm, reassuring.
As our boots crunched on the gravel, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm that was in stark contrast to the chaos within those walls. But outside with March by my side, I felt protected from that noise. In this moment, I wasn’t just trying to survive. I was truly living and enjoying life.
“Feels different, doesn’t it?” I asked.
“Everything does now,” he replied, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand -- a sensation that sent sparks up my arm. “Ready?”
“Always,” I answered. Together, we stepped over the threshold, into our home.
I’d found the place where I belonged. Being here with March brought new meaning to my life. He was my everything, and I had no idea how I’d survived without him all this time.
The sound of laughter and music greeted us as we walked in, but it was just white noise. My attention was solely on March, the man who had shown me a world I never knew existed. A world where I could be myself without fear of judgment.
We made it to our room, and he pulled me into his arms again. He kissed me, and I melted into him, surrendering under his touch. His hands roamed my body with ownership yet tenderness.
“I want to savor every moment with you,” he murmured.
“We have a lifetime together, Marcus. I’m not going anywhere.”
“No.” He leaned in to kiss me softly. “You’re not. If you even tried to leave, I’d find you. I won’t ever let you go, Vi. Not now, not ever.”
“I’d never run from you. To you, but not from you.” I reached up to cup his cheek. “This is what I’ve wanted for so very long. Now that I’m yours, and you’re mine, I have everything I need.”
“Same, Vi. I feel the very same.”