Chapter 19
DIEGO
Her body plasters to my back while the wind cuts around us on the winding road of Massachusetts.
Last night blew my mind. No amount of fantasizing while stroking my cock in bed could have prepared me for what we did.
Afterward, I dropped her off, a rushed goodnight kiss in her damp clothes.
I couldn’t sleep. My brain was flashing it all back in one glorious replay as I stared at the ceiling.
The way her long brown hair coiled around her head like a damn halo. Her plump lips and perfect pink nipples. I just have to close my eyes, and I’m reliving every detail. My body heats, and my cock hardens, wanting so much more of that every day, all day long.
The way her face softened when I opened up about my injury, the feeling of her hand comforting over my scars. All of it plays on a loop in my mind. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I have to hide the screws in my back or the pain that comes with them.
She didn’t flinch when I told her. She didn’t look at me like I was broken. She listened like every word mattered, giving me the ultimate gift. Complete acceptance.
It’s a high.
I’m riding it just like the bike.
When we pull into the ziplining place tucked in the hills just outside of Boston, I barely get the kickstand down before she’s off the bike. She’s already tugging off her helmet, her hair spilling out in loose waves as she looks around with wide eyes. Her excitement is as contagious.
“This is going to be amazing!”
She practically bounces on her toes, her hands flying to undo the straps of her jacket after shoving her helmet toward me. I lean against the bike, watching her with a grin I can’t help.
“You’re pretty hyped. I wasn’t sure you would be.”
“Are you kidding me?” She shoots me a look, one eyebrow arched. “I get to fly through the trees like a badass? How awesome is that?”
It’s terrifying how much I like this version of her.
How much I’m starting to feel for her. Every rational part of me knows why I shouldn’t.
Why this thing between us is complicated and probably doomed from the start.
But none of that matters right now. I want to hold onto this version as long as possible.
I chuckle, shaking my head as I disembark and intertwine our hands to walk toward the entrance.
“You’re full of surprises, Professor Rossi.”
“And you’re lucky I’m even here.” She shakes her hand out from mine, dragging a hair tie from her wrist and pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. “I don’t exactly do spontaneous.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
I slide my arm around her shoulders and steer us toward the entrance.
“You seem pretty good at it.”
She leans into me, her body warm against mine despite the crisp autumn air.
“Don’t get used to it.”
But the way she’s smiling tells me she doesn’t mean it. And I don’t plan to let her forget this moment. This lightness, this joy. Whatever this is between us, it’s real. Complicated, messy, and probably a terrible idea, but real. And for now, that’s enough.
We walk toward the entrance, the wooden archway carved with the name of the ziplining course towering above us. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face as I watch her.
“I’m beginning to think you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
She stops short, turning to look at me, her brow arching.
“Me? Hardly.”
“Uh-huh. You practically leaped off my bike back there. Don’t think I didn’t see how your eyes lit up when you saw the setup.”
She scoffs, walking faster and causing my arm to fall off her shoulder.
“I’m just . . . living out a fantasy. Rarely do I get the chance to do anything like this.”
“A fantasy, huh?” I smirk, stepping closer to swat her ass, which earns me a disapproving glare. “What’s next? Skydiving? BASE jumping?”
“Don’t push it.”
“Admitting it is the first step. But if there are more fantasies that involve just you and me, I’m all ears, Izzy.”
She rolls her eyes, muttering something I don’t catch, and marches ahead. I follow, trying not to laugh as the guide greets us.
Within minutes, we’re geared up and following the group up the steep path to the first platform.
The harness sits snugly against my hips, and the helmet feels like overkill, but I don’t care.
The view alone makes the trek worth it. The treetops stretch endlessly, the autumn colors vibrant against the deep greens of the pines.
Isabella pauses at the platform, her fingers brushing the railing as she gazes out.
“Okay, I’ll admit, this is . . . something else.”
She places a hand on my shoulder, leans up, and gives me a few quick kisses on my lips. More innocent than obscene, but my heart still flips because she initiated. A first today.
“Told you,” I say, leaning against the railing beside her. “You’re going to love this.”
Her gaze flicks to the zipline stretching out into the trees, and she takes a deep breath. The guide clips her in, and I watch as she tightens her grip on the handles. Her knuckles go white for a second before she steadies herself. Her shoulders relax slightly as she glances back at me.
“See you on the other side.”
Her voice is light but edged with a trace of nerves. And then she’s gone, soaring into the trees with a whoop of laughter. I watch her disappear into the canopy, the sound of her joy lingering long after she’s out of sight.
“That’s the face of someone hooked,” the guide quips, nudging me toward the line.
“Yeah,” I mutter, a grin tugging at my lips as I clip in. “She doesn’t even know it.”
With that, I launch into the trees, chasing the sound of her laughter through the golden light filtering down from above. Her levity climbs higher with every platform we reach.
She’s so blissed out, I’m almost jealous it’s not from riding my cock. But giving her this experience is the next best thing.
The day blurs by with casual competitiveness, flirty banter, shared kisses, some obscene when we’re alone, and a canvas of green and gold treetops as we zip through everyone on the course.
There’s still a rush, adrenaline, and exhilaration, but it differs from racing bikes with her.
This experience is lighter, with more touching, playfulness, and laughter.
Elevated freedom, literally. Carefree laughter pours out of her as we walk toward the exit trail.
“Alright, Mr. Kahale. What’s next on your thrill-seeking agenda?”
Mr. Kahale.
I used to hate it when she called me that, but now she says it in a joking and playful way, which doesn’t grate my nerves.
“Food. You can’t do all this without refueling.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean another hot dog stand.”
Her voice dips into that sarcasm I love.
I raise my hands in defense.
“Hey, that meal deal was iconic. And you loved it. But no, I was thinking something a little classier. Maybe pizza. Or tacos.”
“Whatever you want.”
She climbs onto the bike before I get on it, ready for our next adventure.
I fucking love it.
My heart is about to burst. My cock certainly is. The smartest fucking idea I’ve ever had comes racing into my head.
Whatever you want.
Whatever I want doesn’t include food.
Let’s see if she means that when we reach the next destination.
The ride to Quincy Quarries isn’t long, but it’s enough to let the buzz from ziplining all day settle into something quieter.
When we pull into the lot, the quarries rise ahead of us, their jagged edges painted with layers of graffiti that glow in the fading light.
I kill the engine under a secluded spot overgrown with trees and brush. As we pull off our helmets, she hesitates, her gaze locks on the jagged rocks ahead, while I help her get off.
“What is this place?”
“I’ll show you.”
It’s completely empty, which is surprising.
Most locals know about this place, but it’s a well-kept secret from most tourists coming this way. Her mouth sags, her gaze drinking in the tags, murals, and random phrases that stretch as far as the eye can see. It’s rebellious, artful, and full of expression. Something I think she’d appreciate.
We keep walking, winding our way to a higher point where the view stretches out across the quarries and beyond. The city skyline looms in the distance. I lean against a boulder, watching her walk to the edge and take it all in.
“This used to be a working quarry. They used the granite to build a lot of the city. Now it’s a place for climbers, artists, and people like us who need to escape for a while,” I explain as a thoughtful expression appears on her face when she turns to me.
“And how often do you come here to escape?”
“Not as often as I should,” I admit, my eyes locking with hers. “But tonight felt like the right time.”
She smiles.
The kind that’s warm and unguarded.
It hits me like a punch to the chest.
“You’re full of surprises, Diego. I’ll give you that.”
Her words reach me, but her gaze doesn’t. Too busy absorbing the quiet beauty of the quarry.
“Stick around, Iz,” I reply, pushing off the rock to collect her in my arms. “You haven’t seen the half of it.”
She doesn’t roll her eyes this time. She just shakes her head with that same soft smile and turns back to the view. The way her profile cuts against the sky, I decide that bringing her here was my best idea of the day.
“Come on.”
I kiss her head before releasing her long enough to capture her hand to guide her to the next.
“There’s one more spot I want to show you.”
The shadows stretch long and deep across the uneven ground.
The path dips and curves, and the trees thin as we approach a secluded alcove nestled against the largest rock face.
The graffiti here is different. Less chaotic and more intentional.
Murals stretch up the stone in sweeping arcs, their vibrant colors blending into intricate designs that almost glow in the fading light.
“This is it.”