He holds out his hand, the palm wide and the fingers long, thick, and calloused, stained with grease and years of hard work. I can tell where he holds the bat he carries around. His palms are rough too.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Cupcake.”
“I know. That’s what’s surprising me.” When I slip my hand into his, I know I’ve created another link with him. There’s no way around it.
I’ve been forged in blood and fear and Whistler is the fire, the flame, and the steel to bind us together.
“There’s no turning back after this,” he says.
“I have nothing to turn back to,” I reply, holding my Kindle to my chest.
“I’ll fix that,” he promises.
He drags me down the steps and the length of his sweatpants almost makes me trip. I slip along the hardwood floor and he’s there to steady me, then swing me over his shoulder.
The heated night air hits me in the face along with the smell of a cigarette.
“She ready?” Whistler asks.
“Gassed up and ready for those miles, brother. Tell me when you get there. I’ll keep you updated.”
I know that voice. It’s One.
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“Don’t be gone too long. We need you here.”
“Just a few days, One.” Whistler sets me to my feet.
One goes back inside the bar and Whistler cups my face, the onyx irises blending with the night. “You’re going to have to hold on tight, okay? It’s a six-hour trip. So no falling asleep.”
I nod and before he slides my helmet on, he turns his head and bends down to kiss my cheek. But I do something unexpected and unlike me.
Tilting my head, I press my lips against his so quick it’s almost as if it didn’t happen. Tingles spread across my mouth, and my heart races. I rushed it. I know I did. He’s so respectful all the time because of me and what I’ve gone through, but I want to take control of one thing in my life for once.
I might not have shoved my tongue down his throat, but I have showed him how I feel. I’ve placed a seed.
He growls, his top lip curling as he slowly creeps closer to me wanting more. Right when I think he is going to kiss me, he puts my helmet on instead, clipping it under my chin.
I’m disappointed and it must show on my face.
“I want those lips more than anything, but I won’t rush you. I didn’t expect the sweet treat you just gave me, but we have six hours and the open road for you to think Cupcake. No pressure. Okay? None at all. My main concern is you.”
“And I love that.”
“Make sure it’s not the only thing you love, okay?”
I frown. I don’t like what he is implying. Does he think I only want him because he is one of the few men that has been nice to me for the first time in years? I can see how it looks, but I’m smart enough to know better. I could kiss anyone I wanted that showed me decency, but Whistler is so much more than that.
I don’t go around kissing people that make me feel something other than self-loathing. Hell, I didn’t even kiss Kenneth the last two years we were married, or whatever we were. He didn’t want to, and I wasn’t going to beg for something I didn’t want.
“Come on.” He mounts his bike and pats the back of the seat. “Chase the sun with me, Cupcake.”
Pushing back my disappointment I climb up behind him. The leather seat digs between my legs, and it takes me a minute to get comfortable since I’ve never been on a bike before. My hands are pressed against the middle of his back because I don’t know what else to do with them.
“Here,” he says, wrapping my hands around his waist.
My fingers are spread across his stomach and his abs flex under my touch. I can count the defined ridges as I trace along them.
“How the hell am I going to be able to focus with your hands on me?”
I smile, knowing he can’t see me. The bike comes to life, vibrating between my legs with so much intensity a yelp escapes me when it does more than I expect it to.
The vibrations feel…good.
Real good.
He groans. “I’m so fucking screwed with you reacting that way.” The gravel crunches under the tires as we reverse and he flips the headlight on so we can see in front of us. The chrome of other bikes reflects and it’s intimidating to see them all at once. “Lean when I lean, don’t fight it.”
I can’t see where we are going since I can’t see over his shoulder. He’s too big. Well, not too big in a bad way. He’s big in the way that lets me know I don’t need to worry about a thing. I can imagine myself cuddling him at night, his arms tucking me close. His chest would be the only pillow I’d ever need, and his body will be the heat I’d live on for the rest of my life.
No blanket needed when I have Whistler.
I don’t know what road we take, and I can’t tell what turns he makes, but I lean when I need to lean and watch the desert pass us by on the left. The moon shines bright and full, casting a glow onto the endless sand and scrub. The stars hug the night and I’m hypnotized by how many there are; it’s like we are riding the road to space with how dark it is and with how vivid the constellations twinkle.
I never want to get off this bike. I hope Whistler takes us far away where Kenneth can never find me. The wind is in my hair, my shirt blowing out and riding up my back. Even though it’s warm out, zipping down the road is causing a breeze, and my skin pebbles in reaction.
Wherever we are going, I know it’s temporary, but I want it to be forever.
This moment with Whistler is the best moment of my life and I never want it to end. I hold him closer, suddenly worried that this feeling is fleeting, temporary, just like the place we are going to. I’m trusting him when I never thought I’d trust anyone again. I thought it would be difficult and I’d rebel, but trusting Whistler is as easy as knowing what color the sky is or knowing that I need water to survive.
He’s the peace to all my pieces.
The road to somewhere goes on for hours and the sun finally begins to creep up over the edge of the world. Faint colors of orange begin to illuminate and blend with the night, day threatening to break free. It is only a matter of time before the sun is hot and bearing down on us.
My eyes close, not to sleep, but just to enjoy the feel of freedom.
There’s nothing like this, not even love or lust can compare to the vulnerability of the open road. One wrong move means death and while I’ve toed the line before, the possibility of death has never been so beautiful.
“Cupcake, what did I say about falling asleep?” his voice cuts through the high I’m experiencing. My bones and muscles are loose and I’m riding the edge of exhaustion, yet I don’t want to sleep.
An odd combination.
The bike slows down and eventually comes to a stop.
“We are here.”
Wherever here is sure is warm. It smells so good too and there is a static in the distance.
Whistler parks the motorcycle and then the solid structure of his body in front of me is gone, causing me to pitch forward. He chuckles as he catches me and helps me off. My legs shake from being on a bike so long and I keep my eyes closed as I stretch.
He unclips the helmet and the dark visor disappears. “Open those beautiful eyes and see where we are.”