Page 56 of The Wrecked One

I followed him to the door, catching a whiff of his cologne and le sighed in my head at the comforting, sexy smell.

Oliver kept the door open with his good shoulder, patiently waiting for me as I sat on the bench just inside the cabin and laced up my white Adidas sneakers.

I stood, making up my mind. “Let’s take the bike.”

“You sure?”

I peeked around him to locate the bike in the distance. “It’s a long walk, and it makes sense to ride. Besides, I’m more than okay with sitting on it with you.” No doubt in my mind, and that was a welcoming feeling I wanted to take full advantage of.

His eyes remained fixed on my face for a few beats longer before he quietly stepped aside, allowing me to walk outside. “Where’s the hoodie?”

“Oh, right.” I snapped my fingers. “On the couch.”

“I’ll get it. One second.”

“I probably don’t need my phone, so just leave it here.”

“You sure? You know how you like to stuff my pockets with a million things so you don’t have to carry a purse.” The tug of his lips into an almost-smile drew me forward a step.

“I’d rather not weigh you down any more than you are.” Too much double-meaning in those words, but out they came.

He was squinting again, and with the sun on the other side of the cabin, it definitely wasn’t a burden to his eyes. He wanted to say something, I could feel it, but he was holding back.

“Okay,” he said instead, the lines in his forehead relaxing.

I went ahead over to the bike parked near a stack of chopped wood, and Oliver caught up with me a few seconds later.

He must’ve stuffed everything into my Jansport, because that was all he was now holding.

I took the backpack from him, knowing if he wore it, I’d have a hard time hanging on to him on the back of the bike.

“One minute.” He disappeared into the shed and returned with a helmet. “Here.”

“I don’t think that’s nec?—”

“Don’t argue with me.” He waited for me to strap on the backpack before shoving the helmet into my hands.

“What about you?”

“We only have one, and I’m good.” He threw his leg over the bike and started up the engine. “You sure you can do this?”

Right, I’m still just standing here. “Yeah.” Helmet on and strapped, I parked myself behind him, remembered Doctor Logan’s words about breath work in case I got nervous, then looped my arms around Oliver’s body, drawing myself against him. He shuddered at my touch. I guess we were both affected. I couldn’t help but feel a bit nostalgic and murmured, “Do the thing.”

“Mya,” he gritted out.

“Please.” I laced my fingers together on his chest. “Do it.”

His shoulders dropped a bit, but he relented. Shifting the bike forward, he braked in one quick movement, forcing me even more up close and personal, just like I wanted.

Comforted by this position, I settled against him, relaxing as he drove. He kept the speed to a minimum, doubtfully to keep his hat from flying off and more for safety and my benefit. The one-mile drive still went too fast, and once we stopped, I wasn’t prepared to let go of him. It took him gently patting my hands to force me to untangle myself from our locked position.

When we were both standing by the bike, he helped me remove the helmet. I couldn’t help but think back to our last day together in Thailand before he’d been captured and stabbed.

Just like that day, his fingers skirted the line of my neck, caressing my skin near my earlobe as he undid the strap of the helmet. There was no visor, so his eyes never left mine with each movement as he undid it. Was he thinking back to that day now, too?

Clearing his throat, he announced, “The truck is over there.” With the helmet off, he took the backpack from me, then motioned to a Chevy beneath an overhang clearly designed to blend in with nature.

I mindlessly followed him over, and he opened the door for me, offering me his hand to help me climb up into the truck. I took it without worry or hesitation, and his skin felt warm and amazing against mine. I relished in the feeling, taking longer than necessary to get into the passenger seat.

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