6. Adrian
A surge of pride swelled as he tossed over the canvas and revealed his one and only beauty, a Harley Davidson V-Rod that cost almost as much as his tuition. Sleek and black, the motorcycle’s chrome and gold accents showed off their coat of polish under the bright streetlamps.
The leather seat would be just large enough to fit them both, but she’d have zero wiggle room between her and the rear tire.
He looked up from his prize possession and back to Ivory—whose expression was less than impressed. More like terrified.
Her wide eyes finally tore away from the bike and locked onto his. “This…is your car?”
“Like I said, not a car.”
She stared at him, speechless.
“She’s all I got, though,” he added. “As reliable as any other, and a hell of a lot more fun.”
“I can’t ride this,” Ivory whispered, rubbing off the goosebumps on her arms.
He plucked his helmet from the seat and brought it over. What had made her so afraid? She’d trusted him enough to walk all the way here in the dark, so this shouldn’t be too much of a leap of faith. At least, he hoped so.
“I swear on my life you’ll be okay.” He meant it. He never would have intervened if he didn’t trust himself to keep her safe.
She shook her head as if to emphasize the point. “These things are dangerous. I’m—I’m not built for that. I’m the kind of girl who watches from the sidelines, from the safety of her sofa. What if I lean the wrong way and it tips over?”
Her eyebrows pinched together as she groaned. “I’m too drunk for this.”
“Ivory.”
She looked up, relaxing slightly as her eyes met his, but worry lines returned the second they flicked over to the bike.
“I’ve driven this bike for years. Don’t let go, and you’ll be fine.”
She leaned on the streetlight, fighting a battle he already knew she’d give into. Her hands pulled at the ankle strap of one shoe and exposed a painful-looking red line on her skin, while a dark purple tone had crept into the tips of her toes, blending with her sparkly purple nail polish.
His frown deepened. No way would she have made it to the dorms on foot without regretting it in the morning. Her feet deserved better treatment than being strapped into those torture chambers.
She sighed and nibbled on her lip. “I guess I don’t have any other option.” Setting her foot down on what he noticed were tired ankles, she peered at him. “You promise? On the Knight’s code of honor?”
He shook his head. Of all things, she had to ask him to swear on that. Reaching out, he pulled her lip out from her teeth and carefully moved her hair out of the way. “I promise on every code of honor.”
“All right,” she hummed.
“Close your eyes if you want to. It’ll only be a ten-minute ride.” He slipped the helmet over her head and double-checked to make sure it fit. She fiddled with the helmet straps, shifting nervously on her feet. “I haven’t put you in danger yet, have I?” he asked.
She shook her head and took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders as she stepped towards the bike.
Damn, she looked good. Sexier than he’d been prepared for, with his black helmet framing that gorgeous face. The streetlamp cast a warm glow over her pale skin, where little shadows formed in the pout of her bottom lip, and traveled down the curve of her neck, dipping even lower to pronounce the gentle swell of her breasts. Remnants of her costume clung to her petite waist and fell from hips that could destroy any man.
Visibly calmer, she looked at him through the clear plastic visor. “Are you sure you’re not a secret agent or something?”
He scoffed. “I’m just a guy who rides a bike.”
A smile lit up her face, and shit, it almost transferred to his face, too. She shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him.
“You could be,” she said. “First you come to my rescue, then take me away on a badass bike? It doesn’t get better than that.”
His smile broke loose, and he attempted to hide it by swinging one leg over the bike. “What if I’m a spy for the wrong side?”
She started to laugh, but it got cut off by a sharp inhale as she got on behind him and felt just how much freedom two wheels gave. No doors, no roof, and no seat belt.
Her hands gripped the sides of his jacket like she was trying to preserve distance between them. While he would’ve appreciated her earlier, she’d have to hold on a lot tighter than that.
“I always fall for the bad guys, anyway,” she whispered.
Before he could read into that—whether she was talking about Jace, or him, or what each might imply—he started the engine, and it let out a roar into the night. Her arms flew around his waist in a grip tight enough to put a strain on his next inhale.
“I got you, sweetheart,” he murmured over his shoulder. “Relax and enjoy the ride.”
He felt her nod, but her grip didn’t loosen in the slightest.
He sighed, knowing which words would do the trick and hoping no one else was near enough to hear them come out of his mouth. “If you trust the knight, then you have to trust his steed, right?”
He could hear her smile in response—a little hum followed by a breathless laugh as her head dipped into his shoulder. She squeezed tighter, and for a second, he wondered if she really was trying to break his ribs, but then he got what he’d been aiming for. She relaxed, arms circling him in a comfortable grip.
Then they took off.
Some people thought airplanes had wings, but they were only chunks of metal with tiny windows showing the same scene ninety percent of the time. Bikes had wings, round ones that felt like they hovered over the ground and let you bend with the wind as it whipped past. Bikes had the power to travel anywhere, to leave worries behind in a trail of dust and smoke.
Bikes were awesome.
Riding was the pure essence of freedom. Nothing could compare.
This time, though, the ride felt different. Usually, he’d focus on nothing other than the road ahead and feel nothing but a slight chill or the kiss of the sun on his skin, but tonight, the sky was dark, and all he could feel was Ivory.
Her head lifted from his shoulder, and he envisioned her jade eyes bravely opening to take in the thrill of a night ride—when cars didn’t cram the street and the asphalt unfurled under their wheels like it’d been paved just for them. Streetlights blinked past, and he imagined their twinkle reflected in her gaze, experiencing it all for the first time.
His stomach tensed as her fingers curled between the folds of his jacket and under the open zipper, seeking out his body heat against the near-icy wind. Then there was the heat she didn’t even know she had, her warm softness permeating through the leather on his back as if their clothes were as thin as paper. The way her thighs hugged his, the rise of her chest as she took in deep gulps of air.
All too soon, they slowed to a stop in front of the university dorm building. It looked almost as quiet as his apartment, save for a few students walking on the other side of the road who paid them no mind.
Ivory slipped off the bike, and his one-man-mount felt emptier than ever.
“Thanks for the ride,” she offered quietly as she found her footing on the curb.
“Stay safe,” he cautioned. His voice came out with more grit than anticipated, but he ignored it and hoped she would, too.
Ivory fumbled with the helmet, searching for the clasp with what must have been numb fingers. He leaned closer and helped her take it off. “Good luck on those midterms.” He offered a faint smile, and the next words spilled out before he could think. “I’m sure you can handle a little spanking.”
Dammit. Probably shouldn’t have said it like that.
Her smile softened in that sweet way of hers. “Adrian—” Then her expression faltered, struggling with a sadness hidden behind her eyes. “Thank you for being nice to me tonight. I know it was a one-time thing, so I’ll do my best to try to forget. From now on, I won’t bother you.”
She turned and left him with his heart in his mouth. Their ride had tangled her costume around her waist, showing every curve of her perfect form as she retreated into the dorms. Light from inside glowed around her face and outlined his last glimpse of her in ethereal beauty.
It wouldn’t take much to walk her inside, make sure she got into her room and locked the door, but he’d already played it too close to the line. Especially with that last comment.
No, it’d be better for both of them if he didn’t go in.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at scarred, bloody hands. His sweet witch knew exactly what he wanted, remembered what he’d told her and what had to be said—but the words still stung like hell.