32. Reed
reed
. . .
The front porch light casts a honey glow over Layla as she slides her sunflower helmet into place, blonde waves escaping in wild little tendrils around her cheeks.
God, she’s radiant. There isn’t a word to describe Layla LeBlanc’s beauty; she’s a unique kind.
I take a moment to breathe in my surroundings—her smile, the only thing that brings light into my life.
Her eyes reflect the dark sky behind me like it’s full of constellations just for her.
It takes effort to look away long enough to wheel my BMW S1000RR out of the garage. Its matte-black body gleams under the moonlight.
The engine comes alive with a deep growl that vibrates beneath my hands.
She inhales sharply behind me, running over as she lets out a small, almost-squeal, her excitement impossible to hide.
Her hand slides down my lower back as she settles into the seat, her legs hugging my hips. She molds to my spine, like we are two puzzle pieces made for each other.
She leans in, speaking through the helmet’s Bluetooth. “Take me somewhere the world can’t find us.”
I don’t even respond as I twist the throttle.
We glide down the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires, hitting the pavement as the wind glides past us.
It howls past our helmets, carrying the scent of pine, wildflowers, and a hint of smoke from someone’s distant bonfire.
The deep blue sky folds around us as endless, freckles of starlight scatter amongst it.
Her laughter bursts free, wild and genuine.
A sound I’d chase anywhere.
The engine hums steadily beneath us, seven thousand RPMs and rising, its vibrations traveling through my hands, up my arms, into my chest. I shift gears, and the bike roars.
Her arms tighten around me, gripping with excitement.
She swivels her head, taking in our surroundings, her visor reflecting passing headlights, quick flashes of silver across sunflower fields.
We carve through the curves of back roads, the world just the line of asphalt lit by our headlights and the warm press of her body.
A pure, unfiltered scream escapes her as she laughs even louder.
I swear, just hearing her laugh can erase any negative thought I’ve had about myself.
She’s not thinking about anything else.
Right now, she’s just here with me.
I take a turn that opens into a long straightaway, a stretch of road where I know it’s safe to give us a little more.
Leaning into the throttle, I accelerate, going faster, feeling the speed increase, my adrenaline rising every time the speedometer increases.
She gasps, tightening her arms around my waist as her hips press closer to my back. Her helmet softly knocks against mine as she presses herself between my shoulder blades.
I know she’s smiling beneath her helmet, I can feel it.
We are speed, night, and two hearts syncing to the same wild rhythm. And as the wind carries her laughter into the stars, a truth hits me deeper than any spark, kiss, or touch ever could.
This woman is the first breath I’ve taken in years that truly feels like air.
With one hand steady on the throttle, I reach behind with the other, sliding my palm along her thigh as my thumb gently brushes against the denim of her jeans, a silent promise that I’m here, that she’s safe.
She responds instantly, tightening her arms around my waist and pressing her chest even closer.
For a moment, everything else disappears.
“You good back there, baby?” I ask through our helmets’ Bluetooth.
Her helmet dips toward me, answering me with a nod as she taps twice on my hip, our code; more.
I smile into the night and angle my wrist, my hand gliding along the curve of her leg again before settling back on the bars as I shift down into the turn.
Her fingers tighten in the back of my shirt, like that small touch just rewrote her entire world.
And maybe… maybe it rewrote mine, too. Because damn, I don’t want to stop touching her, hearing her laugh, or feeling her pulse against me like this.
I want more, damn it. I want everything with her. But she needs to leave him when she’s ready, and I’ll be here, waiting for her like the next sunrise, because she’s my light, my next breath, mine.
The night surrounds us, its cool breeze enveloping our bodies.
Opal Springs sign comes into view, and I turn left, making my way to the lake.
Sapphire Lake remains still, reflecting the kind of sky only visible this far from the city. Crickets sing softly from the tree line, while the air smells of pine, cool water, and the faint sweetness of primrose surrounding the lake.
I park my bike and stabilize it with the kickstand. Swinging my leg over, I reach for her, helping her down as my other hand rests on her waist.
Once she’s off the bike, we remove our helmets and walk hand in hand toward the water.
She sits cross-legged beside me on the blanket I laid out, kicking off her shoes, her hair still a little tangled from the ride. She’s painting something invisible across her knee with her fingertip; a habit I’ve come to learn when she’s thinking too hard.
“What’s going on in your head, sunshine?” I ask.
She glances over, smiling faintly. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
Her shoulders lift in a gentle shrug. “Just thinking about how some people feel… familiar. Like you’ve known them forever, even when you haven’t.”
I do, and you’re my person.
Something shifts in my chest, just a steady tug that’s been there since the first night she tumbled into my bar with Catalina, laughing too loud.
“I know what you mean,” I respond. “Feels like this click, this pull, where you just know.”
That earns me a small smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear, and I can’t stop watching her, the way moonlight paints her ivory skin, giving me a glimpse of the small beauty mark on her neck that I’ve come to love.
I move closer, at a pace slow enough for her to stop me if she wants to. She doesn’t.
“You ever think,” I murmur, “that some people are just meant to find each other? No matter how many wrong turns they take?”
Her gaze shifts to mine. “You mean like soulmates?”
Yes.
I nod once. “Yeah. I believe there’s always that one person for someone.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak, continuing to look at me like I’ve said something she’s been waiting her whole life to hear.
I reach out, my fingers tracing the curve of her jaw and the soft skin at her throat. She leans into my touch instinctively, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Layla,” I whisper.
I kiss her slowly, as if I’m trying to memorize the shape of every breath between us. Her lips are warm, trembling, with a faint taste of vanilla.
She exhales into me, her hand sliding into my hair, the slight scrape of her nails sending a shiver down my spine.
We break apart, she laughs softly, not out of humor, but from disbelief.
“What?” I ask, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip.
“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like we’ve done this before.”
I rest my forehead against hers, our noses touching as our breath mingles. “Maybe we have,” I murmur. “Just took a while to find each other again.”
Her smile jitters, and I kiss her again, deeper this time, until everything else fades away—the lake, the crickets, even the air.
There’s only her, pressed close as her hands slide up my chest until she’s holding my face.
We stop kissing, catching our breath, and she doesn’t pull away.
She remains right there, pressing her forehead against mine, breathing steady against my lips.
“I think I believe you,” she whispers.
“About what?”
“Soulmates.”
I grin. “Good.”
She laughs softly against my lips, then kisses me again under the kind of moonlight that makes a man believe in fate.