Chapter 17
Fia
Zolt kept suspiciously quiet. The only instructions he gave me were to wear something comfortable. When I’d come out of the bathroom in a dress, he sent me back in, chucking my leggings after me.
I pouted at myself in the bathroom mirror. I knew how much he enjoyed my summer dresses. He had never asked me to cover up.
Maybe his control was slipping.
But, other than that, he was abuzz with energy. When he didn’t think I was looking, he was grinning from ear to ear. Every time I asked what we were up to, his smile softened, and he shook his head. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
We drove through Serbia, past the city we’d stayed in, and into the countryside, where he pulled into a storage facility.
I thought he’d make me wait. Instead, he ran around to my side and took my hand. He watched me closely as the garage door creaked open. I just hoped my reaction lived up to… whatever this was.
The lights turned on inside once the door lifted past my knee and showed a bike set-up even my dad would be jealous of.
Against the walls hung multiple leathers — the blue and white ones from when he was in MotoBike, varying in their design throughout the years he’d ridden for them. The helmets shone on the highest shelf, but what took me back a step was the rows and rows of bikes.
Oh, my dad would be frothing at the mouth.
I walked up one of the aisles, fingers skimming the handles and the engines as my pace picked up. “Dirt bikes?”
He nodded, leaning against the wall, letting me wander. “Pick your favourite.”
My eyes met his, and I wanted to leap across the room into his arms. “Favourite?”
“I can give you some pointers,” he offered and started walking towards me. “For example—”
“What’s the purpose?” I asked. “Are we going long distance? What terrain? Are we…” A wicked smile took over my entire face. “Racing?”
His grin matched mine. “Yes.”
He walked the perimeter of the garage, grabbing things as he went, and I searched across the shop-worth of bikes.
“Be prepared for any terrain. It’s going to be a dry day.”
I loved him.
And, for the first time, the words didn’t fill me with dread or worry. They accompanied the excitement buzzing in my veins. They settled into my chest where they’d always belonged and where they would stay, whether welcome or not.
I patted the engine of the sky- blue bike behind me. “I’m a KTM kind of girl.”
He laughed and dropped to his knees at my feet. He undid my trainers and slid my feet into some leather bike boots. “Where—”
“Stefan brought these over this morning.” He strapped my ankles in tight. “I’m all for a race, but a safe one. Especially when you’re involved.”
My inner woo-girl was screaming at the top of her lungs.
Then he placed the helmet over my head, tying the strap tight and asking if it was okay. I nodded, but wished the helmet wasn’t between us.
“Do you want me to get it out for you or—”
“Just try and keep me off this bike.”
He chuckled, and I settled into the seat as he went to the wall to grab the keys. He chucked them at me, I revved the engine, and waited for him outside.
The thrill of the bike was something I had missed so much.
StormSprint used to be about bikes for me. Just last year, Nix, Luca, Everly, and I had all raced on the Monaco track. With Luca letting Everly beat him, I only placed behind Nix, which was saying something.
Even if there was quite a gap between us.
Zolt led the way into a national park and to a bike centre where a team was being taken to a course. The woman in high-vis clocked Zolt, and they conversed. He told her he was going to ‘take it easy,’ and she nodded, still looking him over with concern.
Did she not know he raced in far more dangerous circumstances?
The second she left with one of the tour groups, Zolt squeezed my thigh. “You ready?”
I nodded, the adrenaline already starting to kick in.
He put his helmet back on, and we were off.
The dirt trail was empty, but we could hear the revving of bikes in the distance, part of the tour.
We went through every terrain possible, a stream of rocks, a dirt field with hills and craggy ridges where nothing grew.
Jagged paths cut across our way; some ran parallel so we could race each other with one nod. Sometimes I’d drown him in my dust.
The wind tore at my jacket, ran through my hair under the helmet, and refreshed my senses.
It was just us, the two bikes, and the heat of the engines.
And I was on cloud nine.
I screamed as we sped down hills and ridges. I cried with laughter as we bumped down the rocks. My ass was going to be so bruised, but I couldn’t live to regret it.
We were wild and free and sweaty.
As the sun pushed aside the clouds, the heat picked up, and despite how much sweat was under my clothes, at least I couldn’t get sunburned. Unless we were in the forest — where we had to slow down — there was no shade, just speed. Just how I liked it.
It was like we were in a different world.
When we got to the race track, Zolt took me around it without rushing, so I wasn’t going to be hit by any surprises when we really raced.
But as we came to the penultimate curve and the finish line was in sight, I couldn’t help but twist the throttle and go full speed.
He called after me, but I was gone, turning the corner too hard and screaming, but somehow staying upright. Mostly.
I cried out into the wind as my back wheel kicked up a shower of dirt for Zolt to eat.
Maybe racing him wasn’t the best idea just yet.
“Did you see that?” I laughed.
He pulled up next to me. “I heard the scream!”
“It was crazy!”
“You nearly fell on your ass,” he said, shaking his head.
“You’re one to talk,” I said and lightly slapped his arm. He caught it and held it there. “You fell before we even started!”
“That was a warm-up tumble, thank you very much,” he laughed, starting his bike again, looking at me over his shoulder. “Race you the rest. I’ll give you a head start.”
“Don’t need one!” I called, but he was already behind me, in the path of the rocks spinning out from under my wheels.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I shrieked with joy, giving the bike and the dirty path in front of me everything I had.
The last obstacle on the track was a quick slope, about a metre high, that made my bones jolt when I hit the ground again, my spine rattling.
My thighs burned from holding on for dear life, and my mouth tasted like desert shit.
But holy shit — I felt alive.
And I was so close.
We met the finish line at the same time.
I skidded to a halt beside him, and we pulled our helmets off, breathing hard, our faces slick with sweat. His hair was flat from the helmet, his curls stuck to his forehead, and his grin made me giddier.
“That was amazing,” I panted.
He dismounted, offering me a hand to do the same.
“You loved it.”
I nodded, taking the water bottle he offered me from his backpack. I guzzled some of it back, grimacing as the grains of sand ran down my throat. “I did.”
He took it after me and did the same.
His eyes were bright, and he looked as wild as I felt. He was so beautiful, looking rugged and feral and like he’d take on anything.
He looked like someone I wanted to stand beside forever.
“What?” he asked.
I should be embarrassed to look at him for so long, but I couldn’t stop. “Nothing.”
“Zsófia,” he said and pulled off one of his gloves, head bent to look at me. “You’ve got something.” He nodded at my face.
I wiped at my mouth, but I still couldn’t turn away from him. “Dirt?”
He stepped forward and brushed my cheek lightly. Carefully. “There.”
It was hardly a touch, but he lingered. His eye contact, his thumb.
But it was enough for my brain to short-circuit and for me to swallow more grains of sand.
We stared at each other, too still and quiet for the adrenaline still pumping in our bodies.
“You’re good at this, you know,” he said, voice soft as silk. “At riding. When we do the real thing, you’ll thrash me.”
“I almost fell three times.”
“But you didn’t.”
His thumb barely ran over my skin again, and my breath caught.
And I ruined it by leaning around him to down some more of the water. My mouth was so dry.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping back to lean against his bike. “I’m sorry if this was too much.”
“It wasn’t.” I capped the bottle, focusing on it. “It isn’t.”
“I’m trying to be careful around you,” he admitted, nudging the sand at our feet with the toe of his boot. “It’s getting harder.”
“I know,” I whispered. “You’ve been annoyingly nice when we’re alone.”
He breathed a laugh, and his eyes met mine again. Piercing. Gentle. “You’re annoyingly hot when you’re covered in dirt.”
“That’s a weird kink,” I laughed and found myself standing between his legs.
“You think?” he asked, head cocked to the side as his fingers ran up my forearm. “You’re smiling. You seem keen.”
My laugh was more unhinged, nerves releasing with the roll of my body.
“I am not smiling. I’m laughing.”
“You are smiling. Right at me.”
He adjusted against the bike, standing a couple of inches taller than me.
“I’m not.”
He trapped my chin between his finger and thumb, and my lungs stopped working.
“Smile for me.”
His breath was on my cheek, and I tried so hard to keep a straight face, but I was with him, and there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be.
“There it is,” he said, his own grin capable of taking my breath, if I were capable of breathing. “You’re so beautiful.”
His entire expression shifted. Everything softened as he looked at me.
“Zolt, are you going to kiss me?”
His eyes crinkled. “Yes. If you’ll let me.”
I tilted my head so he could get a better angle. “If you did, I’d just blame it on heatstroke.”
He laughed against my lips. “And, Zsófia, if you were to kiss me, I’d just blame it on adrenaline.”
That was it. I looped my arms around his neck and kissed him.
Covered in dirt, hands shaking from our race, heart fluttering like when I’d gone down the slope — I pressed my body into his and kissed him with all the certainty I had.
Certain I wanted him. Certain he wanted me. Certain that he would be there for the fallout.
It wasn’t soft or slow. It wasn’t rough or rushed. His hands fell to my waist, keeping me close, and I tugged at the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to me. It was too good. Too much.
And I didn’t have the nerve to ever let it end.
One of his hands slipped through my dusty hair, and he tilted my head again to deepen the kiss.
A low grunt sounded from him, and my insides melted.
I needed him everywhere. My hands roamed, the kiss becoming more desperate as my mind only considered one thing — we’d fucked on a bike before. Now we had the choice of two.
He didn’t hold back, and I let myself get lost within him.
It was too much.
And I wanted more.
I wanted everything with him.
He kissed me like we had always been heading here. Like he’d known from that first moment in the studio. He kissed me with need and certainty, but lazily enough for me to know… this was it. This wouldn’t be enough.
“Fia,” he whispered against my lips before kissing me again. With each kiss he peppered on me, he said my name again and again, like a prayer. “Fia, Fia.”
I couldn’t respond. If I spoke, I might say something that broke the magic. The seal on who we were.
Because here we were, two people without scandal or secrets, and all we were was two people who wanted each other more than anything in the world.
I didn’t know we’d moved until I felt my bike like a brick wall behind me.
He grunted my name again, and I kissed him harder, nipping at his lip. He gasped, laughed, and met my fire.
His words, his touch, his tongue, all seemed as desperate as me, but he kept that boundary of not undressing me. His hands remained firmly over my clothes.
I would have to be the one to knock down the walls I’d forced us to build.
“Can we come back tomorrow?” I said against his lips. “Race then? Motel now?”
He pulled away, cupping my jaw with both hands. His eyes roved over my face, looking for any trace of doubt. I hated that I’d made him reconsider how I felt.
His lips pressed against my forehead. “Yes. Tomorrow.”