Chapter 5
By the time the bike rolls down my bumpy drive, the sky has darkened to that midnight blue from my custom Hermès gown a few years back.
With no buildings or trees, it’s amazing how much can be seen.
It makes me feel like a human, instead of a Ferro, and I like that.
Leaning into Chase’s warmth, wrapping my arms around his waist for miles, and breathing in his scent makes me feel braver than usual.
Normally I wouldn’t plaster my boobs to some random’s back for twenty minutes, and when we started the day, it felt like that.
But not now. I mean, I’m aware of how my thighs hug his on the back of the bike.
How every time we hit a bump, I slip forward, and the V at the top of my legs gets molded to his ass.
If I think about it at all, I pull away, but I also have this problem with not expecting the next bump, which makes my giant helmet head bounce and knock into Chase’s helmet. To which he laughs.
As the bike rolls to a stop, Chase lowers his boots, and we stop in front of my house. There’s no porch light on, so once he cuts the engine, it’s nearly pitch black.
Chase shucks his helmet, shakes out his hair, and looks over his shoulder at me perched on the narrow seat behind him. “I thought I lost you back there when we switched to the caliche road.”
“The gravel made things a lot bumpier. I’ve got parts of me that are still vibrating.
” I’m laughing, trying to yoink the helmet off my head, tugging at the strap blindly.
My hands go still when I realize how that sounds.
The thing is, I don’t feel sexy with a giant golf ball strapped to my melon.
I feel like my cheeks are squished up like a squirrel with a bunch of nuts in his mouth.
“At least I didn’t jump off.” It’s the only thing I can think to say. He’s so close, but barely visible. There’s a bit of silence that stretches too long. I wonder if he can see how I’m looking at him.
Chase clears his throat and adjusts on the bike seat before saying over his shoulder, “If you hop off, I can help you with that.”
I’m not sure I want to move yet. I start talking without realizing how I feel. “Maybe I’ll just wear it forever. It suits me.”
“It does.” Chase turns at the waist; his helmet hangs on the handlebars. The starlight illuminates the planes of his face just enough that if I lifted my hand, I could trace his likeness, feel his smile more than see it. His voice is deep. It’s a timbre that feels like warm coffee.
Rich.
Expressive.
Sensual.
Chase isn’t moving to get off the motorcycle, and I wonder if it’s because he really enjoyed himself today too. Jos Ferro would bed him and send him on his way.
I wonder what Bree would do. This girl who has no reputation to protect or destroy—what choice would she make?
I’ve been staring at him for so long that my breath catches when I look away. When did my heart start pounding? “Well, I need to go flip the generator on so you can see to get out of here.” I find the pegs, and swing my leg over the back of the bike and hop down with a tiny bounce.
Chase is quiet too long. I wish I could see his eyes. I have no idea what he’s thinking.
I’m fiddling with the chinstrap, trying to work it loose. It’s not a familiar feeling.
Chase offers, “I can be gentle.”
My voice cracks. “What?”
Lifting his arm in the darkness, he points at my head. “The helmet. I can help with the strap, if you want.”
“Oh, yeah.” Right. Of course. Because otherwise randomly saying that would be weird.
As I step toward him, a swarm of butterflies swirls inside my stomach.
I make an effort to sound light, as if he’s not having this major effect on me.
“Yeah, I haven’t had to do a buckle like this since I was, I don’t know, seven.
My dresses don’t really have these loopie things anymore. ”
I don’t realize how close I am until I look up at him on the bike. I’m closer than I thought. The watery golden light from the stars casts a rim light around him.
“Take another step toward me?” he asks.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” I take the step, closing the space. My shin brushes against his pant leg.
Chase reaches for my chin, his fingers brushing against my skin as he laughs and says, “Absolutely, I do. And every single one of them was captured in this same way. Now, they’re all wandering the countryside, wearing white helmets, and clunking into cactuses.”
I smile at the mental image and tease, “That must look really romantic in the moonlight.”
“Oh, it is.” The tension on the strap is suddenly gone, and when he drops his hands, I wish he hadn’t.
I wish his hands lingered, found my hair, touched my cheek.
I want to scold myself for being so infatuated with this guy.
He needs to ride off into the night, but will a few more moments really be a problem?
Inhaling deeply, I tug the helmet off my head and hand it to him. Chase takes it and rests it on his lap. My hair is glued to my head, and when I shake it out, it feels like a mess.
The tingling on my skin doesn’t hit me until that moment.
The way I’m leaning in toward him. The way I’m watching his lips as they part slightly, hoping he’ll say something more.
Wanting to feel the warmth of his thigh under my palm.
I wonder what it would feel like to touch his skin, if that muscle is as strong as I think it is.
Chase reaches toward me, lifting his hand slowly. Touches my hair, smoothing a rogue flyaway strand, before trailing his fingers lightly down my cheek.
The pull toward him is magnetic. The sensation of the curve of his thighs, his waist, his chest under my palms. My hands are lost between us, and when he pulls away, I want to grab his wrist. I want to make him stay.
An animal yip-howls in the distance and the moment shatters. I spook like a bunny rabbit, turning my head like it’s going to eat me. “What’s that?”
Chase makes an amused sound, but his voice is deep and steady. “Nothing that can hurt you, Fifth Avenue. I suppose a city girl wouldn’t hear noises like that at night.” He shifts and hangs my helmet off the other handlebar.
I stiffen and glance back at him. “Fifth Avenue?”
“Upper East Side was too much of a mouthful.” He runs a hand through his hair. It’s gleaming in the wash of starlight.
Part of me freezes, but he pegged me way too close to home. Most people can’t tell the difference between a New York accent from the city to Long Island to Jersey. But he did. Softly, I ask, “How’d you know?”
He’s watching me, assessing something. I feel his eyes sweeping across my face.
I add, “I barely have an accent.” I smothered the shit out of the New York socialite accent that sounds more Transatlantic than anything else, so I’m wondering what he hears.
Chase makes a sound of agreement in the back of his throat. “True, but when you’re passionate, it flares a bit.”
My face flames red, and when I speak, I squeak, “I’m sorry?” When was I passionate with him?
Chase laughs; it’s deep and rich, and my God. I want to lean into this. Into him.
“That.” He points at me. “Whatever just happened right there.” He taps the tip of my nose lightly.
It’s sweet. “That’s not Texan. That expression.
The way your mouth moves around the vowels.
It’s East Coast, but not quite. I can’t place it exactly.
And the fact that you have no idea what a dog howling at the moon sounds like and jump like a jackrabbit,” he shrugs, “it just makes me think you’re a city girl with some means.
Maybe you went to Columbia and had a rich roommate, borrowed her accent. ”
That’s a bit too close for comfort. Thank God it’s dark and he can’t see how close he got on that guess. Even so, I’m smiling too hard. I shimmy my shoulders closer to him, careful not to touch the hot pipe on the bike by my shins. “That was not a dog.”
He shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t.”
I shove his shoulders playfully, lightly.
He lifts his hands and rests them on top of mine.
The action is so chaste, and so intimate.
It makes me want to know him. It makes me think there’s so much more to him, more that I want to know.
There’s no assumption in his movements. No demands.
I want to close my eyes and lean into him.
He shouldn’t stay here. But he’s already been here. I already risked exposure with him. And he’s here now. If I want him to stay longer, even if it’s just for now—for the night—I could ask him.
The thought is jarring. At home, I didn’t ask anyone.
There was an assumption. A look. There was never a formal invitation.
No one ever asked me anything. This is different.
It’s so fragile and innocent. I slide my hands out from under his, and he’s about to pull away when I take both of his hands in mine.
I rub my thumbs along the edge of his hands, feeling his warmth, the calluses, the power in them.
Wondering what they’d feel like sliding over my skin.
“Chase?” My voice is small.
“Bree?” he whispers back.
“Would you like to come in?” My gaze is locked on our hands when I ask him, like my head is too heavy to meet his eyes.
Chase pulls one hand free, and my heart falls. I start to step away when I feel his finger hook my chin. He tugs my face up, and he’s so close. “I’d love to.”
I stay like that for too long, enjoying the way his hand feels.
Part of me wants to stay outside, because I wonder if the spell will break in the light.
There’s only one way to find out. I step away from the bike so he can dismount.
I hold out my hand. Chase dismounts, slips his palm into mine, and follows me inside.