by Sara Cate
As soon we’re out of the crowd, it feels instantly silent and cold. I wrap my arms around myself as we approach the motionless street. Something warm covers my shoulders as I glance toward Logan. He’s setting his black leather jacket across my body, instantly covering me in warmth.
“It’ll be even colder on the bike,” he says, but his words don’t register.
I look back toward the party, but no one even looks toward us or comes after me. No one here cares about me at all. The thought chills me, so I squeeze his jacket tighter around me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“What was I thinking? I should have never been out there with him in the first place. This is all my fault.” I press my face into my hands, letting the words tumble out of my mouth. I feel like such an idiot.
“Hey, hey,” he says as he places his large hands on my shoulders, putting his face in front of mine, forcing me to look at him. “Can I call someone for you? Take you home?”
“No.” I answer in a rush. I’d rather go back to that party if we’re being honest. My parents wouldn’t notice anything was wrong or if they did, they would find some way to blame it on me.
“I only have my bike. Do you want me to get you out of here?” His voice is steady and full of confidence and concern. I look into his eyes and latch onto the intensity like a life raft and let the security I find there pull me to shore.
“Yes, please.”
I let him guide me farther up the street toward where a motorcycle is parked in an empty lot. The shaking in my bones won’t subside, and the anticipation of sitting on the back of a motorcycle only makes it worse.
He holds me by the hand and steadies me as I straddle one leg over the bike. “Be careful. The exhaust right here is really hot,” he says as he points to a big silver pipe on the side.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
He holds the handlebars of the bike as he steps over in front me, straightening it and making me latch my arms around his waist. My breath hitches as the deafening roar of the engine rumbles through my body.
And suddenly we’re moving. I’m still holding tightly to his waist, but the more we move, the more my body relaxes against his. Leaning through the turns and accelerating down the street feels like we’re flying together. The humming power between my legs ignites a heat there that makes me suddenly feel powerful and alive.
We ride for longer than I expect, and it doesn’t take me long to realize that I don’t need to hold so tightly to his waist. Our bodies move together as the bike carries us, our balance meeting in the middle keeping us in place through the stops and turns.
This is surreal. I’m on the back of his motorcycle. My boy, the one I’ve waited years to finally talk to. He’s here, and my body is pressed up against his.
I lean my cheek against his back and let my arms ease their grasp. My fingers are gentle against his stomach as I feel his tight muscles through his thin T-shirt. I can feel him tense under my touch as we glide along together through the night, and it starts to feel as if with every mile we take together, we’re erasing the darkness of what just happened on the beach.
Go back to Wicked Beach with Logan and Sierra.
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About the Author
Sara Cate writes contemporary romance about bikers, bad boys, hunks, and softies--all rolled into one. She has a soft spot for redemption stories and forbidden romance.
You can find more information about her at
www.saracatebooks.com