6. Kylee
six
Kylee
I've got a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, both fighting me left and right on what to do. However, the longer I'm tempted by the whispers of what the devil is coaxing me with, to stop fighting against myself on what I want, the more I realize how quiet the angel is.
Can I really not argue with myself about why I shouldn't be entertaining this? Is it because, no matter what I try, nothing seems to be working?
"It's going to be so much fun," Casper reassures me as he leans against the counter, enjoying watching me stack more than enough books to leave large gaps on my shelves.
Is there anything that could make this man not look so happy all the time? He didn't even flinch when I rang out the books, and I find that startling in itself.
With so much about this man unknown to me, I'm not sure how to feel. I can assume that someone who is the VP of their club is of high importance. If he has any kind of power, surely he could find a woman better than someone like me.
I look at his satisfied expression, the easy tilt of his smirk, and the last stubborn protest from the angel on my shoulder goes entirely dark.
Maybe I don't need to understand why a man like him wants someone like me. Maybe tonight, I just want to let myself be wanted.
Bah. What's the point in getting worked up about it? I've tried to fight it, but this man is stubborn. Fine. For today, he can enjoy winning this battle.
By the time I've pressed social media about closing early and hanging up a sign, I'm giving this man exactly what he wants by following behind him after locking up.
The weather is nice and hot despite the sun already creeping toward the horizon. All that book sorting had taken time, and now, I think I'll be giving my evening to this man.
Before we make it too far past the door, Casper is offering me his arm. "Help a blind man from running into any poles?"
His excuse to get me to touch him is too much, and I can't help the snort that leaves me. Entertaining him, I wrap my fingers around his arm. He feels solid and impossibly strong beneath the heavy leather of his jacket.
Instead of just letting me hold on, Casper shifts his arm, tucking my hand tighter against his side so I'm pulled flush against his warmth. As if I need any more heat to come my way. I'm already flushed with it enough as is.
"Should I really be trusting someone blind to go on a motorcycle ride with?" Speaking my thoughts out, I glance at his satisfied expression. "You're not totally blind, right?"
I feel his eyes on me all the time in the shop, so I'm pretty confident he can see.
"Not totally, no." He rolls a shoulder and looks up. "The sun is my enemy, though. The first day we met, you saw the worst of it. As long as I wear my glasses, I can manage. The helmet I'm trusting you with? Custom-made to make riding possible. I've learned how to properly work with my impairment."
The light tone of teasing in his voice drops away, replaced by something quieter and more vulnerable.
My gaze drifts to his sunglasses, wishing I could see past the dark lenses to the eyes I know have been tracking my every move. "It's a shame you have to keep them covered all the time. You've got the prettiest eyes, you know?"
My words seem to throw him off.
A subtle flush creeps up his neck, darkening the skin above his collar. He clears his throat, the smooth, confident posture cracking just enough for me to see there's so much more about this man I need to learn.
Looking down at me, the angle of his chin dipping, he doesn't say a word. He tries to summon his usual cocky grin, but it falters at the corners.
"Careful, sweetheart," he says, his voice rougher and lower than before, missing its usual teasing edge. "Say things like that, and I might never let you go."
It's always one step back, two steps forward with this man. Yet, at the same time, I don't want to stop at complimenting his eyes. He clearly doesn't realize how beautiful he looks. It's a shame no one has told him enough in the past to be accustomed to such words.
Despite his request for my touch, he's the one guiding me away from the strip and toward the lot with more energy than before. When I'm taken to a bike that looks like the ones I've seen in videos that can go pretty fast, my worries start creeping back in.
"Uh, I should warn you that I've never ridden on a motorcycle before." Releasing him, I fight not to grimace when he turns toward me with his helmet. While he works on getting it on me, his cool fingers tickle beneath my chin. "You're not going to get me killed, are you?"
He laughs at that, finding a joke somewhere along the lines. "You're precious cargo. I wouldn't dare break a single law if you're on the back." He lifts the visor so he can get an up-close look at the worry in my gaze. "As long as I'm with you, you're safe."
Wishing I had the confidence he carries, I try not to lean forward when he pulls away. Leaving me to get on his bike, he pats the seat behind him to coax me over.
I don't realize how much I have to touch him to get on. From cradling his shoulder to keep my balance to having to grip his body tight once the bike roars to life, I'm confident Casper is enjoying every moment of it.
Clutching him tighter, I'm glad I have the visor covering my face. The moment he shoots out of the parking lot, it muffles my startled gasp.
This guy is going to be the death of me.
Realizing I hadn't even asked him where he intended to take me in the first place, I wonder if there's a set location with the way he seems to aimlessly take corners. No matter the distance, he doesn't seem to plan on stopping anytime soon.
Every time he takes a corner, I’m forced to shift with him, molding my front to the broad expanse of his back.
When the bike tilts dangerously low into a sharp turn, a startled squeak catches in my throat, and I bury my face directly into the leather between his shoulder blades.
"You're making this far too easy." Casper lets out a laugh, enjoying this far too much for his own good.
I try to squeeze him hard enough to get my point across, but the moment a strained groan cuts through the roar of the engine, horror replaces my spite. The injury. Inwardly cursing myself, panic overrides my hesitation.
I slide my hand right beneath the heavy flap of his leather jacket, pressing my palm flat against his stomach in a desperate, silent apology. The fabric of his shirt is thin, and the sheer, radiating heat of his skin instantly sears my fingertips.
For a fleeting second, the bike seems to swerve just a fraction, his entire body locking up not from pain, but from the sudden, intoxicating friction of my hand moving against him.
I barely get to realize how hot he can be before Casper lets go of the handlebars with one hand, his fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. Pulling my hand back and setting it where it was before, he lets out a hoarse laugh.
"If we want to make it to our destination, you can't touch me so freely. Let's save that for later." As he pats the back of my hand, I flush hot.
My attempt at an apology has been misunderstood. Possibly. My fingers are still tingling from the heat radiating from him.
Once the sun is lowered enough for the sky to be made up of orange and pink with the stars beginning to show themselves, he starts to slow down after climbing higher and higher.
Leaving behind the life of the town, it's replaced by the deep, sweeping shadows of the tree line as we head toward the outer edge of Meadow Falls. The air grows cooler the higher we climb, rushing past us in a fierce blur, but I’m perfectly insulated against the wind, trapped in the pocket of heat radiating from Casper’s body.
We keep climbing higher and higher, the road hugging the very edge of the ridge.
Through the tinted visor of my helmet, the horizon opens up, revealing a breathtaking expanse of orange, pink, and violet bruising across the sky.
The realization of just how high up we are hits me as I look past Casper's shoulder—we're heading straight toward the cliffs overlooking the valley.
Just when it feels like the road might run out entirely, he slows the bike, steering us off the main path and into a long, secluded driveway leading to a home so grand that my stomach clenches in discomfort.
Even now, I feel so out of place as I get off on wobbly legs.
"Please tell me this isn't where you live." Pulling off the helmet, I grimace at the building as I take in my first lungful of fresh air.
Maybe a lot of women get excited by the idea of money, but I grew up with the value of hard work by watching how my parents managed their lives. Anything this fancy is the complete opposite of what I experienced growing up with my parents.
Casper snorts and shakes his head. "No chance. The club's treasurer got his hands on it last year. One of these days, I'll introduce you to Cash."
"He's not going to mind you helping yourself to his home?"
He takes the helmet from me and straps it to his bike. Now that my hands are free, he takes advantage by grabbing one. "He's got a few rules, but I don't think I'll be breaking any of them this time."
Unsure of what he means, I'm led around the home. As we shuffle through the grass and a beautiful garden, it doesn't take long to realize why he's brought me here.
I can't even crack a dark joke about him coming to push me off the cliff, because once I realize how much of the town I can see from up here, I'm left speechless.
No wonder why he'd taken so long to get up here. Now that the sun is tucking away, all the streetlights are glowing beautifully. With such a large body of water down below, even the waves capture the glittering lights. It's a view that traps my next breath in my lungs.
"It's a nice place to sit and enjoy the view." His thumb strokes my knuckles mindlessly. "A few of the guys bring their girls here to impress them."
His explanation has me turning my head toward him to realize he isn't enjoying the view at all. He's too busy staring at me.
"Do you bring people up here often?" The question leaves me without thinking, and my heart leaps when his smile lessens.
"Never, actually." Releasing my hand, he rubs the back of his neck.
Turning toward the view, he lets out a long, heavy sigh that seems to carry the weight of a dozen unsaid things.
"This may surprise you, but I'm not the type of person who tries to seek women out to begin with. I just... Fuck, I'm not good at this."
At the laugh that leaves his lips, I don't miss the lack of amusement behind it.
"When people look my way, they don't see me the way you do.
They get uncomfortable. Always have, now that I think about it.
That's what makes you so special." He lets out a soft, low groan, as if he’s spoken far too much truth for one evening, before planting himself on the grass.
He pats the space right next to him when I don't follow along immediately.
"Let's make this less about me. How about we talk about you? "
At the reappearance of his smile, softer this time, and completely genuine, the last of my hesitation evaporates. I settle down right next to him, the harness of his thigh brushing against mine as he purposely leans toward me.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything." The answer comes immediately, as if he knew his answer before I thought of the question. "But let's start small. Why have I gone thirty-two years of my life without knowing of your existence?"
He sounds outright heartbroken, and that makes me laugh. "Well, for five of them, I didn't exist. For the others..." I stretch out and return my gaze to the town. "No offense, but my dad did a pretty good job teaching me to stay away from trouble."
Rather than taking offense, he chuckles. "Is that what I am?"
"With a capital T." Answering truthfully, I don't have to look his way to know he's grinning. "Outside of that, I've always grown up quiet, if that makes sense. Always tried to blend in with the background. So, maybe that's why? You never noticed me, because I never wanted to be noticed."
Now that I have, this guy seems to have stuck himself to me for good.
He hums in contemplation of my words before his next question comes. "I take it I don't have to fight off any boyfriends, then?"
Laughing at that, his silence makes me realize he's serious. After visiting my shop every day for what, two weeks now, he thinks there's a chance I'm taken?
"I've tried dating, but it's never worked out." Telling him information he doesn't need to know, I tuck my knees to my chest. "Guys don't typically want a boring girlfriend."
"Boring?" He clicks his tongue. "You are anything but."
We must have two different definitions of the words, but I'm not going to argue with him. It'll give him an excuse to compliment me, and I don't think my heart can survive an onslaught.
"So, say a guy is interested, what's the chance of him succeeding in getting you to try again?"
My cheeks burn at his question, and I really wish he'd learn how to soften his blows when attacking me like this. Hugging my legs tighter, I scoff.
"Enjoy the view, Casper. That's what we came out here for, right?"
Another delicious laugh leaves him. "The view right now is the most gorgeous I've ever seen it." He gets cheeky when I try to glare at him. After tilting his head back toward the cliff, he sighs. "Blame a guy for trying."
I squeeze my knees tighter against my chest, hiding the fierce burn in my cheeks, but Casper doesn't pull away. Instead, he shifts just enough to bridge the gap between us, his massive leather-clad shoulder resting heavily against mine as we fall into a quiet, almost peaceful silence.
His words won't be enough to blame him. What I'll be blaming him for is the damage he's doing to my head.
Tonight, when I'm tangled alone in my sheets, Casper is going to be solely at fault for the restless, aching heat he's left between my thighs—and exactly what my own hands will have to do to chase it away.
It won't just be his face haunting me like usual, but now his words, too.
I don't know how I'm going to survive the ride back down the mountain, but as the twilight deepens around us, I realize one thing is for certain.
The fight I'm trying to keep going against this man is reaching its limit. I don't think I've got much left, and that's what scares me.
If he keeps pushing, I’m not just going to fall. I'm going to throw myself over the ledge.