Chapter 22 Convince Her with Horsepower
KADE
She’s inside, doing her routine.
I should be satisfied. Should be pleased I gave her space, let her go about her morning like nothing happened.
But I’m not.
Because I saw it on her face. That look. The way her voice cracked when she said it hurt.
Fuck.
I let the teasing go too far. Let the job get in the way when I should have been here. It was supposed to be fun, a game to keep her wound up until I got back.
Instead? I hurt her.
Of course she has abandonment issues now. Of course I fucking did that to her. But I’ll fix it. Every hurt I caused. Every tear she cried over me. I’ll find a way to make it up to her. Somehow.
My hands grip the handlebars too tight, leather gloves creaking with the pressure. I force myself to breathe, to pull back from the rage building in my chest.
Not at her. Never at her. At myself.
Because watching Amanda get upset? Seeing that tiny tear gather in the corner of her eye? It almost broke me. Everything in me wanted to stop it all right there. Drop the act, the helmet, the games. Tell her the truth. Say her name the way I used to. Let her see me.
But she’s not ready. Today proved that. So I’ll up my game instead.
Remind her who she belongs to. Make her feel so wanted, so thoroughly consumed, that she never questions it again.
She’s mine. Always has been. She just needs more convincing.
She steps outside twenty minutes later. Pastries in one hand, overpriced coffee in the other. She pauses, doesn’t look at me right away. Just adjusts her sunglasses and exhales slowly.
“I’m not ready just yet.”
I type quickly.
CHAD
I know.
She glances at her screen, brows pinching slightly, before the next message pops up.
You still have to do your walk down to the marina. Run your hands along the railing, just like you did when you were a kid.
Her head jerks up this time. I watch her throat work around a swallow, watch her fingers tighten around her cup.
She wasn’t expecting that.
She doesn’t say anything, just hesitates for a second too long before stepping toward me. Hands me her bags without a word. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she knows I’ll carry them. Like she knows I’ll always hold whatever she gives me.
Then she turns toward the marina to finish her routine.
I watch her walk ahead, down toward the water. Watch her breathe. Watch her drag her fingers along the railing the way she always does, tracing something only she can feel.
The tension drains from her shoulders. Her steps grow lighter. The hard edges of her morning fade away.
And fuck—that does something to me.
I love seeing her like this. Calm. Centered. Soft around the edges.
And I love that I know her well enough to give it to her.
Just like I know her well enough to have arranged what’s coming next. The calls I made before leaving for Montenegro, the strings I pulled, the money I spent to set up something perfect for her. It pays to plan ahead when you’re trying to win back your wife.
She comes back looking happy. More herself. I notice how the tension has completely left her body.
And I want to touch her again.
The feel of her ass beneath my hand is still fresh in my mind. The way she froze, turned, the way her lips parted in shock. I almost didn’t keep my hands to myself after that. Almost grabbed her again, just to see if she’d let me.
She steps back up to me, tosses her empty cup in the nearby bin, and tilts her head. “So now what, Mr. Dark and Mysterious?”
I don’t answer with words.
Instead, I grab her by the waist, lifting her like she weighs nothing, and set her on my bike. She lets out a surprised noise, her free hand gripping my shoulder.
“Jesus, warn a girl next time.”
I could have given her a heads-up. But then I wouldn’t have gotten to touch her again. Wouldn’t have gotten to pull that reaction out of her, and I love pulling reactions out of her, that little hitch in her breath, the way she freezes before she melts into it. Fucking heaven.
I reach for her helmet, securing it carefully over her head, letting my fingers linger just a little longer than necessary.
She goes perfectly still under my touch.
Before she can speak, I take her hands in mine, guiding them around my waist, pressing them against my chest. Letting her feel me. Just a little.
Her palms are warm, small against me. Fuck—it’s hard not to turn around and pull her tighter.
She exhales a laugh, shaking her head. “I think you’re enjoying this.”
Yes. I am.
I kick the bike into motion, feeling how her fingers instinctively tighten around me, the way her body molds to mine like she belongs there.
Because she does.
It’s noon now, which means the city is awake. Crowded. Pulsing with movement.
Cars clog the streets, pedestrians weaving between them like they have no concept of mortality. None of it bothers me. I move through the traffic effortlessly, shifting between lanes, cutting through gaps that barely exist. Feeling the weight of Amanda pressed against my back.
She grips me tighter when I take a sharp turn, her thighs squeezing me. Fuck. I could drive like this for hours. I could take her straight to what I have planned for this afternoon. But where’s the fun in that?
I take a few extra turns, stretching out the ride, letting myself feel her warmth pressed into me a little longer. Letting myself enjoy this. Because I’ve waited too fucking long to have her wrapped around me again.
The bike purrs beneath us as we lean into another curve. Amanda’s arms tighten around me again, and I can feel her heart beating through the leather of my jacket.
Soon I’ll show her exactly how much I missed her. Soon she’ll understand what she means to me.
But for now? This is enough. Her, me, the open road stretching ahead of us.
The way it should have been all along.