Page 38 of Bend

I slide the helmet down over her head, careful with her hair, fingers brushing the warm line of her jaw while I fix the strap beneath her chin. It’s a small thing, yet still manages to pull the air tight between us anyway. She looks up at me through the open visor, quiet for once, and for a second I’m a little too aware of how fucking close she is.

“There,” I say, voice low. “Good?”

She nods once. “Good.”

I step back and swing a leg over the bike. “You ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

“A few times.”

“Then you know the deal. Hold on when I tell you to.”

That smile of hers comes back straight away. “So bossy.”

“Safety-minded.”

“Sure. That’s why you’re not wearing a helmet.”

I look back at her. “Yeah. Because you’re the one I’m making sure gets home in one piece.”

Through the visor, her eyes lift to mine again, and for a second all that sharp, teasing energy in them eases into something quieter. She doesn’t say anything, just holds my gaze long enough to make my chest pull tight before the corner of her mouth curves.

“Thorne fires up his bike beside us, engine rumbling low. ‘You two done making eyes, yeah, or are we just gonna sit here like a pair of melts in the driveway?’”

Echo climbs on behind me, and the second she settles, I feel the heat of her through my shirt, her hands landing light at first on my sides.

I reach back, catch one of her wrists, and guide both her arms around my waist.

“Like that,” I tell her. “And make sure you hold on tight,”

Her grip tightens.

Yep. Fuck, that feels entirely too good.

Thorne clocks it, obviously, because he just laughs and shakes his head under his helmet. “Right. Let’s move, yeah?”

I glance back once. “You good?”

Echo’s helmet tilts in a nod against my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m good. Drive, cowboy.”

I grin despite myself, kick the bike to life, and pull out of the driveway with her wrapped around me and Thorne riding beside us into the thick Tampa night.

*****

I pull into the Motel parking lot, and kill the engine, and Echo catches the look on my face before she’s even fully off the bike.

“Don’t,” she says, lifting the visor.

I glance over at her. “Don’t what?”

“Look at it like you hate the idea of leaving me here.”

Thorne laughs as he parks beside us and swings off his bike. “That is exactly the look, actually.”

I glance up at the motel again, then back at her. “Well, can you blame me? Place is a dump.”

Echo snorts, pushing hair back off her face. “It’s fine.”

“It’s barely standing,” I mutter.