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“And Sienna would love a date to her cousin’s wedding if you know anyone.” I tighten my lips and stare back at her with playful frustration.

“Actually, I would. It’s just a few weeks away and I need to hook some big, bad, biker man who’ll scare my whole family into submission.”

Ghost narrows his brows and laughs. “Well, my buddy Tennessee’s been looking for a family. I’ll tell him he’s got one on the hook.”

“Cool.” Sienna hands Ghost one of her business cards and offers me a smirk. “Now get this girl out of here and show her a good time.”

As we make our way outside, I whisper, “Sorry for that. She’s a little high-strung.”

“That’s okay. A buddy of mine’s been needing to get out more, anyway. A nice family wedding will be good for him.”

I glance down at the ground and wonder what the hell this ride is all about, but I don’t ask. Instead, I let him take my hand and guide me out toward his motorcycle that’s gleaming in the light of the morning sun.

How the hell did we not hear this thing roll up?

Maybe this is all a dream. It has to be a dream. I just woke up, and I haven’t even finished my coffee. We barely had a conversation, he disappeared for days, and now I’m climbing onto his bike like I’m okay with that.

I’m not.

I require phone calls, and communication, and proper amounts of energy, and romantic gestures. That said, I climbonto the bike like I’ve been desperate for this visit all weekend long.

It’s the truest feeling I’ve ever felt. I have been desperate for this visit. I spent all day Saturday wondering if he was really gone for good, wondering if I’d ever feel that much passion again.

The bike growls as he revs it before taking off. We’re slow at first, then quickly I feel the wind whip against my face. I lean into his back and hold him tight, as his hand rests on the outside of my leg.

I’m not sure if I should read into it or not. Maybe he does this with loads of women. I was sure of it the other night… until he held me. There was something about that moment that made me realize this kind of connection was new for him.

I try not to let my mind reminisce, instead focusing on the crisp morning air and the scent of damp pavement. It doesn’t last long. With one whiff of the leather on his back, I’m locked into the filthy places we were Friday night. I let myself linger there, clit throbbing as I imagine the way he dug his thick fingers into my hair as I sucked him off.

Oh Lord, I’m a bigger mess than I thought.

Ghost keeps his eyes on the road ahead, his posture relaxed but purposeful, as sunlight filters through the dense forest lining the road. There aren’t many people out and about yet, though it’s like this most mornings up here.

We ride past rustic cabins to the west of the woods, and I tighten my grip around him as he leans into a curve that lines the turquoise river rushing ahead. It’s by far one of the prettiest spots on Rugged Mountain. On the far bank, thick pines grow close, their roots gripping the edge as though they’re bracing against the flow. The water is clear, like glass, and you can see straight through to the colorful pebbles that line the riverbed.

Ghost steers the bike to a quiet clearing near the river and cuts the engine, replacing the rumble with the quiet rushing of water. It’s a private little spot surrounded by boulders and trees, and you can tell that it isn’t frequently traveled.

I swing my leg over the bike and stretch the stiffness out of my body before glancing up at the giant man in front of me. Even in the middle of the forest with trees towering thirty feet high, this man looks huge.

He’s still silent. Something is off. I’m probably about to be murdered.

I open my mouth to ask him what’s up or tease him about acting so funny, but before I can, he exhales sharply and steps toward me, running his hand through my hair. His eyes catch mine, and though we’re staring at each other, I get the feeling that part of him is ready to run headfirst toward the river.

What’s with this guy?

I open my mouth to speak, but before words come out, he leans inand kisses me. It’s fast and rough like he acted before he finished thinking it through, like he’s been fighting with himself for days.

When he pulls back, he exhales, shaking his head like he’s frustrated. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I stare at him, heart hammering, the weight of his hands still on my waist.

He exhales slowly. “This is stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“The fact that I can’t stop thinking about you. All fucking night and every fucking day. You’re there, on my mind, with that cute little fucking smile, and it’s driving me fucking insane.”

I can’t help but smile. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”