“Not exactly something you can discuss with your psychiatrist, though,” Verek jokes with a smile.
“No. Of course not. It’ll be our secret,” I assure him. “Well, until Roman finds out. Aren’t you afraid of what he’ll do to you?”
“Nah,” he says, brushing off any worries. “It’ll be worth it.”
“Hopefully,” I agree. “We should probably get out of here before they notice I’m gone.”
“You’re actually excited about this trip,” Verek says in surprise when I hand him my purse to squeeze into the saddlebag of his Harley.
“I haven’t been out of the house much after being cooped up in the facility for two months. Well, except for sitting around the safe house that one day. I think a road trip will do me good. And I know I’m safe with you,” I say, eyeing the bulge under the side of his leather cut where I know he always keeps a gun.
“You will be safe with me,” Verek agrees. He offers me a spare helmet that I fit on my head. It takes several tries to finally get the chin strap snapped. The sound of the click as the two pieces finally fit together makes me freeze as a thought suddenly hits me.
“This will be my first time on a bike,” I tell Verek which of course reminds me of the first night we met.
“I’m glad it’s with me,” Verek says with a small smile that lights up the street even more. “Climb up on the back when you’re ready. You can either hold on to the sidebars or me, whichever makes you more comfortable.”
This is what I love about him. He’s always so considerate, thinking about how everything may affect me, knowing that I still find physical contact difficult. And while I appreciate his restraint, I wish it wasn’t necessary.
Since I’ll be the one making the contact in this situation, I’m looking forward to getting my hands on Verek’s body.
So without further delay, I throw my leg awkwardly over the seat to get into position on the seat, then tentatively place my hands on either side of his waist, the leather smooth and cool under my palms.
Glancing at me over his shoulder, Verek says, “Unless you want me to go ten miles an hour the whole way down the highway, you’ll need to lean in closer and lock your fingers together in front of my stomach. If you only hold on to my cut, you’ll end up on the pavement. Or you can sit back and grab the bars.”
“Oh, okay,” I say in understanding, glad he took the time to explain that to me rather than just take off.
In order to get my hands to meet in front of his stomach, I have to scoot up on the seat until the front of my body is flush against Verek’s warm back. That means the inside of my thighs are pressed to his hips. We’re practically spooning! I’ve never been the big spoon before, but it’s nice, the kind of intimacy and comfort I’ve craved but wasn’t sure I would be able to have again. And since it’s one-sided, it’s safe.
“You ready?” Verek asks.
I wind my arms around his lean waist and lock my hands together. I’m not touching his body directly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel his rock-hard abs underneath his shirt.
“I’m ready,” I agree with a deep inhale, filling my lungs with Verek’s leather and peppermint scent that blends together nicely with the salty air of the night.
Chapter Four
Verek
* * *
Plenty of women have been on my bike, so many I’ve lost count.
Not that there have been any in eight weeks, but still, it’s not a new experience for me to have a beautiful woman’s thighs locked around my waist, her warmth soaking into my back, her hands on my lower stomach.
Having Tessa on the back of my bike is pure torture because she’s so close and yet so far away. I can’t even reach down and touch her leg for fear she would jerk away so hard I’d wreck my bike.
And of course it makes me think of the first night we met at Fluid when she told me she had never been on a bike before and I insinuated that she could ride anything of mine she wanted. That whole conversation seems like a lifetime ago. We were both two different people, Tessa more so than me. I was an asshole for treating her like any other one-night stand, hitting on her even after I realized she was engaged. But even back then, I could tell that she wasn’t happy and was looking for something more – possibly with me. Still, I came on too strong, and she ran away – right into the arms of those rapist bastards. Because of them, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to touch her the way I’ve longed for since the moment I saw her.
What would normally be a two-hour drive to our first stop, Warsaw, during the day only takes a little over an hour on the dark, empty roads. I pull in to the first hotel we come to that only has a few cars in the lot. It’s not even close to a five-star resort based on the brick, one-level row of a dozen or so rooms that sit across from the office that’s painted a bright orange, but I’m sure it’s the kind of place that deals in cash, not cards, and can’t afford a security camera. I doubt Tessa or I will get much sleep tonight, but hopefully we can come up with a good plan for our two locals before we head down to Sneads Ferry.
As soon as I kill the engine on my bike and put the kickstand down, I climb off and ask Tessa, “So, what do you think of your first ride?”
“That was…exciting I guess,” she says, working with shaking fingers to undo her chin strap. “A little scary, but in a good way.”
“You eventually get used to the near-death experience and enjoy the freedom more each time.”
“If you say so,” she replies with an uneasy smile.
“You mind staying right here while I go get us some rooms?” I ask. “I’ll be able to see you from the windows but would prefer if the clerk didn’t get a good look at you in case…”
“In case shit goes sideways?” she supplies.
“Right. That,” I agree because with her red hair and beauty, she’s not someone people forget. “I’ll make it quick.”
“Sure,” she replies, even though I can see the fear in her eyes of being out here in a strange place alone.
“If anyone shows up, I’ll see them coming and be out here before they come within ten feet of you,” I promise.
“Okay,” she replies with a nod, so I start toward the door.
“Verek, wait!” Tessa calls out when I’m about to open the door, making me cringe because I didn’t want anyone around here knowing my name. I freeze, assuming she’s going to insist on coming inside with me, showing the clerk her face, when instead she says, “Just one room not two.”
“You sure?” I ask in surprise.
“Yes. Two beds.”
“Of course,” I assure her, knowing her boundaries.
Inside, an old man with more salt than pepper in his hair and mustache is sleeping in a chair behind the desk, his arms crossed over his swollen belly.
I clear my throat to try and wake him, but he doesn’t budge. If not for the snoring, I would worry he’s dead.
“Excuse me,” I finally say aloud. That has him startling awake, stumbling to his feet.
“S-sorry about that,” he says as he tries to hold his heavy eyelids open. “You need a room?”