Chapter 15 #2
He reaches down, sliding the umbrella strap from my wrist. He looks it over, gloved thumb sweeping the black steel handle as he says, “This is a nice umbrella,” before he secures it in his pack.
My lips twitch. “It’s a little arrogant to complement your own tastes, Dr. Night.”
There’s the briefest draw to his features, then it’s swept away as his gaze lowers, eyeing my briefcase. “But that won’t fit.”
I let the briefcase slip from my hand, dropping unceremoniously to the stone with a thump that barely registers over the crashing pulse in my ears.
With a sure touch, Orion smooths my hair back, and I don’t recoil at the cool feel of his gloves before he carefully slips the helmet over my head. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”
The helmet sits heavy. I’m hit with his heady scent of ocean and man. “What about you?”
“I don’t need one.”
“Right. Statistics,” I say, situating the helmet for comfort.
“No, you change that,” he says, something hesitant buried in his eyes. “My dark little anomaly, altering too many variables to know the precise outcome.”
Brows knit, I study his guarded expression. “You’re doing a terrible job of making me feel safe.”
His deep chuckle hits my stomach with a flutter. “I promise, nothing bad will happen to you on my bike.” He expertly fastens the strap under my chin, securing the helmet. “Still, I won’t take any chances with you.”
A soft murmur vibrates through my chest.
I believe him.
He glances at my discarded briefcase, brows hiked, and I shrug. “There’s nothing important in there,” I say, earning another heart-stopping grin.
He removes his leather jacket and drapes it around my shoulders, tucking my scarf inside. His jacket covers my wool coat easily, and I slip my arms into the sleeves as he draws the zipper up.
I’m only given a second to appreciate the warmth before he seizes my waist and effortlessly lifts me, placing me on the seat.
Keeping his gaze on my parted legs, he skims his gloved hands down my hips.
His descent doesn’t stop until he reaches my knees, where he inches my skirt hem up painfully slow, causing my breath to stall as he pushes the material to the middle of my thighs.
“Damn, not sure how I’m supposed to keep my eyes on the road.”
Emboldened, I inch my skirt even higher and swing my leg over the seat. “Just don’t look back.”
An ache sinks deep in my core at the way he watches me shift forward on the cushioned leather, my skirt barely covering my slip of panties until I bring the length of my coat closure forward.
He drags a hand over his jaw. Mutters something unintelligible as he shamelessly reaches down to adjust the bulge in his black slacks. A tender pinch tightens in my sex at the sight.
“Hands back here.” Orion instructs me to grab hold of the metal brace behind the seat. As he mounts the bike, I have to bite my bottom lip to stifle the sound that wants to escape at the heavy feel of him settling between my thighs.
A fiery current arcs over my skin, urging me to wrap my arms around his waist. Between the oversized jacket and his body heat, I’m burning up.
The engine rumbles to life, and any reservations over how dangerous this is fall silent beneath the roaring growl.
“Shit,” I whisper. I swear, he changed some chemistry in my brain, because the vibration immediately makes my thighs clench. Through his dress shirt, I feel his abs tense beneath my palms.
“Hold on,” he calls over the sound of the engine. “And, Collins, do not drop those hands.”
A shot of liquid fire courses through my veins at the suggestion. Forced to rest the helmet against his shoulder blade, I tighten my hold around him, feeling every cut flex of his abdominal muscles when the bike takes off.
Cruising at a steady speed, Orion circles the university, then steers onto the main street of the downtown area. All the decorative effort that has already gone into preparing for the upcoming symposium solidifies into a heavy mass in my chest with the unwanted reminder of time.
As Orion turns down a narrow street, he reaches back and clasps my thigh, holding me secure and igniting a flurry of heat low in my belly.
Once we clear the town limits, all thoughts of looming eclipses and victims are forgotten as Orion picks up speed.
Wind whips past, making me grateful I wore my knee-high boots that help guard against the chill.
For the first time since I drew new breath, I’m present in the moment, unconcerned about the destination.
Soon, we’re winding down a coastal road, the brisk wind streaming around our bodies as the view of the ocean unfolds alongside us.
At sunset, it’s beautiful. Silver clouds dust the sky in a soft, hazy glow above the mist, hued in vibrant pinks and oranges.
The distant edges fade to a deep blue over the stretch of endless waves.
Orion accelerates, and the jolting speed of the bike stirs my blood with a hit of adrenaline, thrilling, intoxicating.
Euphoric.
I flatten my hand over his chest, absorbing the thundering rhythm of his heart as it crashes against my palm. He releases one of the handles to bring his gloved hand to mine, covering it and holding it there before he gives it a strong pulse, urging me to hold tighter.
The road ahead curves around a high bluff. We follow along the narrow stretch, the climbing rock face rising high on one side, the ocean on the other. Adrenaline burns through the chambers of my heart, and I can no longer feel the bite of wind, the cold air—
My own heartbeat.
The sudden realization sends a tremor of alarm through me, and I strain to feel the struggling pulse that’s become the tempo of my life.
Only the faster Orion pushes the bike, the less I’m able to think of anything other than the way his thumb soothingly traces my inner wrist, softly tapping a beat against my pulse point.
Before long, he returns his hand to the clutch, downshifting smoothly as he veers onto a stretch of sandy trail leading through dune grass and rocks. He eases the throttle, slowing enough to maneuver over the loose sand.
For a brief moment, the muffled sound of my breathing inside the helmet pulls me into another space—one thick with the scent of overturned dirt and suffocating vinyl.
Anxiety claws up my chest, claustrophobia pressing in from all sides.
I’m desperate to lift the visor, to drag in a lungful of fresh air.
As if sensing my unease, Orion guns the engine, driving the panic from my mind. He coasts across the damp sand, easing us closer to the water, chasing the shoreline across the unbroken stretch of beach.
This time, when he grasps my thigh, it has nothing to do with safety. His thumb drags slowly back and forth, sparking a blazing path along my skin. The firm press of him between my thighs, coupled with the vibration, sends a hot flush of arousal through me.
I’m not sure at what point my hand drifts down, but the moment I graze his erection straining against his pants, an intense ache pulses low. Daringly, I explore further, moving below his belt. His stomach muscles tense, and the motorcycle jerks slightly before he regains control.
Something reckless and heady thrums through my veins, and I boldly press the heel of my palm to the hard length of him. His hips shift upward in response, and that one movement is so damn erotic, my thighs squeeze against his legs.
He downshifts abruptly, and my heart stutters with the lurch of the bike. Then we’re slowing, coming to a stop. His sharp inhale expands his back, igniting friction along the length of my front.
Dropping his feet to the packed sand, he revs the engine hard, digging the back tire down and anchoring the bike in place. He kills the engine, and the sudden silence rings in my ears, followed by the hollow, rhythmic crash of waves.
Orion uses both hands to reach back and tap my thighs. “Push back.”
The coarse grate of his tone scrapes over my senses.
Before I even get to the edge of the seat, he twists around.
One arm wraps my lower back, his other hand captures my thigh, urgently hauling me onto his lap.
Forced to straddle him, I grab hold of his shoulders, adjusting until I feel the undeniable hard press of him beneath me.
His forearm bands tighter around the small of my back. “Christ, Collins. Do you want me to fuck you on this bike.” There’s no question implied in his gruff tone. It’s a certainty, a warning.
I reach up to unbuckle the strap, but Orion grabs the bottom of the helmet and presses his forehead against the visor. “Don’t,” he breathes. “It hurts how badly I want to kiss you.”
A small sound escapes my throat. “I wouldn’t stop you,” I whisper, reinforcing my words with a purposeful roll of my hips.
He curses under his breath and pulls back enough to flip my visor up. His teal eyes spear mine with so much want I’m breathless. The desperation behind that look says what he’s unwilling—that he’s stopping himself.
I release a breath before reinforcing what I’ve told him repeatedly since that night in the observatory. “You didn’t hurt me, Orion.”
“And I won’t.” His throat works with a hard swallow, pain etched around the lines of his squinted eyes.
A tense silence locks us in this moment.
Then slowly, he unbuckles the chin strap, gently removing the helmet before tossing it to the sand like an afterthought. His hands slip beneath the leather jacket in search of my hips, gripping possessively.
“I just want to keep you right here,” he says, and an ache forms in my throat at the earnestness I hear in his voice.
I briefly close my eyes.
Focus on the object.
The light tug of my scarf draws my gaze back on him as he slides the sheer fabric down to expose my neck. His gloved fingers trace the faint bruises that linger from his tie. He’s done this often, assessing the fading marks he placed there.