Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Fiona
I was sitting on the porch when I heard the motorcycle.
The sun had started its slow drop behind the mountains, leaving streaks of orange and gold across the sky. I’d been outside for more than an hour with my phone in my lap, pretending I wasn’t waiting even though Jasper’s message from twenty minutes ago had made that impossible.
I’m coming to find you, Cher. Be ready.
Ready for what, exactly, he hadn’t bothered to explain.
The rumble grew louder until his bike appeared at the end of Granny’s quiet street.
I sat straighter as he came toward the house, then stood when he turned into the driveway and cut the engine.
He swung off the bike in one smooth motion and pulled off his helmet, his dark hair catching what remained of the evening light.
Something about him was different from when I’d seen him at the clubhouse earlier. The tension around his mouth was gone, along with whatever guarded look he’d carried into church. Now his attention settled entirely on me.
“Cher.”
“Hi.”
He climbed the porch steps without taking his eyes off mine. “You busy?”
“No.”
“Good.” He stopped close enough that I caught the familiar scent of leather and whatever it was beneath it that always made me think of him. “Come for a ride with me.”
I looked past him toward the motorcycle. “A ride?”
“Through the mountains. We’ve still got enough daylight.”
“I’ve never been on a bike before.”
His eyebrows rose. “Frank never took you for a ride?”
I shook my head and looked toward the machine again. Up close, it seemed even larger than I remembered, all chrome, black paint, and an engine powerful enough that I’d felt its vibration through the porch when he arrived.
“What if I fall off?”
Jasper smiled and stepped closer. “You’ll have your arms wrapped around me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He said it so easily that my nerves settled before I had a chance to argue with them. Maybe that was the dangerous part of Jasper. He could make almost anything sound manageable simply because he seemed so certain it would be.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He held out his hand, and I took it.
At the bike, he crouched beside one of the saddlebags and unzipped it. When he stood again, a black helmet with silver detailing rested between his hands.
I stared at it.
He hadn’t stopped at the clubhouse and grabbed whatever spare helmet happened to be available. He’d arrived at Granny’s house with one packed on his bike.
For me.
“Here.” He checked the inside before looking at me. “Can’t have you flying off into the mountains without protection.”
I reached for it, but my fingers fumbled against his. Jasper caught the helmet easily and steadied my hand with his other one.
“You okay?”
“You brought this for me?”
“Always planning ahead, Cher.”
His smile made the answer sound casual, but the helmet didn’t. He’d thought about putting me on the back of his bike before he ever sent the message telling me to be ready.
He lifted it slightly. “May I?”
I nodded.
Jasper eased the helmet over my head and worked the strap beneath my chin, his fingers surprisingly gentle against my skin. When his knuckles brushed my throat, my attention shifted completely away from the bike.
“Too tight?”
“No. It’s good.”
He tested the strap once, then stood there for a second longer as if inspecting his work. “There. Now you’re ready.”
Before I could decide what to make of the satisfaction in his expression, he turned toward the motorcycle and showed me where to put my feet.
“Keep them on the pegs. Don’t let your leg get near the exhaust because it’ll burn the hell out of you. When I lean into the curves, lean with me. Your instinct might be to straighten up, but don’t fight the bike.”
“I’m starting to think you left some important details out when you invited me.”
He laughed. “There’s only one more.”
“What?”
“Hold on to me.”
“That seems obvious.”
“Not the way I mean it.” His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “I’ve had passengers try to leave space between us because they’re being polite. Don’t. I want you against me so I know exactly where you are.”
Heat moved through me despite the cool evening air.
“Anything else?”
“That should do it.”
He climbed onto the bike and held out his hand. I let him guide me onto the seat behind him, which was narrower than I expected and left very little room for the polite distance he’d just told me not to bother with.
“Arms around me, Cher.”
I slid them around his waist.
“Tighter.”
I tightened my hold until my chest rested fully against his back. Jasper’s hand covered mine for a moment. “Perfect.”
Then the motorcycle came alive beneath us.
The first few blocks through Rosewood gave me time to get used to the vibration and the strange feeling of balancing on something that seemed determined to move beneath me. Once we reached the mountain road, Jasper picked up speed, and the uncertainty disappeared beneath something much better.
The wind rushed past us, carrying the scent of pine as the road climbed. Sunlight filtered through the trees in long golden bands, flashing over us before disappearing again as the curves carried us deeper into the mountains.
I stopped thinking about falling.
Jasper moved with the motorcycle as if it were another part of his body. Every time he leaned, I followed, my arms tightening naturally around his waist. On the straighter sections, he opened the throttle enough to make my stomach lift, then reached down and wrapped his hand around my calf.
I laughed against his back, though there was no chance he heard me over the engine.
Maybe he felt it.
The ride seemed to end much too quickly. By the time he slowed near an overlook, the sky had shifted from gold toward pink and purple, the first traces of evening settling over the valley.
He pulled off the road and cut the engine.
The sudden quiet left my ears ringing.
“You okay?”
I was still smiling when I answered, “Yeah.”
“Good?”
“Amazing.”
He turned enough to look at me over his shoulder. “Not scared?”
“Not anymore.”
“Not even a little?”
I shook my head. “I trust you.”
Something changed in his face.
It was only there for a second, but I saw it before he looked away.
“You shouldn’t.”
The answer surprised me enough that I forgot about the view. “Why not?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he climbed off the bike and held out his hand.
My legs protested the second my feet hit the ground. I stumbled, and Jasper caught me around the waist before I could embarrass myself by falling over in front of him.
“Easy, Cher.”
“My legs feel like jelly.”
“That happens the first time.”
He kept one hand at my waist until I was steady, then led me toward the overlook.
The mountains seemed to stretch forever beneath us, layers of dark green rolling into one another beneath the fading sky. Small pockets of light had started appearing in the valley where houses sat between the trees, and the last sunlight touched the highest ridges.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Fucking gorgeous.”
The sound of his voice had me turning toward him; only, he wasn’t looking at the mountains.
“Jasper.”
His hand rose, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. “I love the sound of my name on your lips, Cher.”
My breath caught. There were things Jasper said because flirting came naturally to him. I’d learned to recognize those by now.
That wasn’t one of them.
“I don’t—”
“It’s getting dark,” he said gently. “We should head back.”
Before I could decide whether he’d interrupted because he didn’t want to hear the rest or because he was afraid of what he might say next, he turned toward the bike.
The ride back felt different.
He didn’t push the speed as much, and I held him tighter without needing to be told. Darkness settled over the mountains around us until the headlight carved out the only stretch of road I could see.
I thought about what he’d said at the overlook almost the entire way.
You shouldn’t.
Then the way he’d looked at me when I’d used his name.
By the time we turned into Granny’s driveway, the porch light was glowing warmly against the dark house. Jasper helped me off the motorcycle and removed my helmet, smoothing down a strand of hair that had caught beneath the strap.
“Thank you,” I said. “For the ride.”
“Anytime.”
He walked me to the porch with his hand resting lightly against my back. At the door, I turned before he could say goodnight.
“Jasper.”
His gaze settled on me.
“Why did you come tonight?”
“Because I promised I would.”
I studied his face. “Why?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he stepped closer, slowly enough that I could’ve moved if I wanted to.
I didn’t.
“Because I needed to see you,” he said. “I’ve spent weeks trying to get back here, and every damn time something got in the way. Then I finally saw you at the clubhouse and got ten fucking minutes before I had to walk away again.” His voice lowered. “I’m tired of walking away from you, Fiona.”
Everything inside me seemed to go quiet.
He lifted both hands to my face, his palms warm against my cheeks. His thumbs moved lightly beneath my eyes while he studied me with an intensity that made it impossible to pretend I didn’t know where this was going.
“Tell me to stop.”
“What?”
“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me to walk back to my bike.”
I looked at his mouth.
For months, Jasper had been the one stopping. Holding back. Deciding we should wait when I wasn’t even sure what we were waiting for anymore.
Tonight, he’d put the choice in my hands.
“I can’t.”
His eyes darkened. “Why not?”
“Because I want this.”
Something in his expression broke loose. “Say it again.”
“I want this.” I swallowed. “I want you.”
His forehead dropped against mine as a rough breath left him. “Fiona.”
“Kiss me, Jasper.”
His mouth covered mine.
From the moment I met him, I’d wondered what kissing Jasper would feel like. I’d imagined everything from the gentle kiss he seemed determined to give me someday to the kind of kiss that matched the way he looked at me when he forgot to hide it.
The reality was neither.
At first, his mouth moved slowly against mine, warm and careful, his hands still holding my face as if he were giving me time to change my mind. The restraint almost made it worse. Every soft movement left me wanting the next one before it came.
I gripped the front of his cut and pulled him closer.
A low sound left him, and the kiss changed.
One hand slid into my hair while the other moved to my waist, drawing me against him.
His tongue traced my bottom lip, and I opened for him without thinking.
Heat swept through me as he deepened the kiss, stealing whatever breath I had left and making the porch beneath my feet seem suddenly unreliable.
I held on tighter.
Jasper’s fingers dug into my hip and he kissed me harder, then seemed to catch himself, easing the pressure for half a second before I followed his mouth.
That was apparently all it took.
His restraint snapped again.
By the time he finally pulled away, both of us were breathing too hard. He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still threaded through my hair.
“Fiona.”
“Yeah?”
“You need to go inside.”
I blinked up at him. “Why?”
“Because if you stay out here, I’ll kiss you again.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem.”
A rough laugh left him. “It does when I don’t want to stop.”
I looked at his face. His pupils had swallowed most of the blue from his eyes, and the control he usually wore so easily looked a lot less certain now.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
“I know.”
His thumb moved over my bottom lip, and my breath caught again.
“But you deserve better than me losing my damn mind on your grandmother’s porch.”
“I don’t care where we are.”
“I do.” He leaned in and pressed his mouth to my forehead, lingering there before forcing himself to step back. “Go inside, Cher, before you find out exactly how bad my self-control really is.”
I didn’t want to go inside. My lips still tingled, and every inch of distance he put between us felt unnecessary. But I could see what stopping was costing him.
For once, I didn’t mistake it for rejection. “Okay.”
“Goodnight, Ma Belle.”
“Goodnight, Jasper.”
I opened the door and stepped inside. When I looked back, Jasper still stood on the porch, watching me. Whatever he was thinking left something raw in his expression that made my chest ache.
Then he turned and headed toward his bike.
I closed the door and leaned against it, lifting my fingers to my mouth.
For months, every conversation between us had lived somewhere between friendship and something neither of us would quite name. I’d questioned flowers, texts, looks, and every almost-kiss Jasper refused to finish.
There wasn’t anything left to question now.
He wanted me.
And I’d finally stopped pretending I didn’t want him just as much.