Page 75 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

“You’re going to drive the bike.”

If the helmet hadn’t been strapped under her chin, her jaw would’ve hit the floor. “Oh, no…no, no, no,” she protested. “I’m more than happy to stay in my place behind you.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” he assured, not concerned in the least. “You don’t have to go fast or drive more than a few feet.” He paused, waiting for her to disagree again, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Bikes are about balance, and so is life,” he continued. “There are things within our control and things we can only try to prepare for. It’s easy to get thrown off when we come across an obstacle. It’s easy to feel like you can't ever get up and trust yourself again, but if we only pay attention to things we can’t control, then we start to think we’re useless when we aren’t. I struggled with that for a long time.”

Despite the truth in his words, the mere thought of driving the bike paralyzed her with fear. A pit had quickly sunk in her belly, and she kept her hands firmly locked together in her lap, ignoring the handles now looming within reach. Of everything he could’ve asked of her, this was the one thing she couldn’t do. There was no way.

He gave her a knowing look that did nothing to calm her nerves, then took her gloved hands in his. “If you really don’t want to, I won’t force it. With me, you’ll always get the choice—you can have control or let me take over—but I need you to see you’re more capable than you think, Iv. I want you to set yourself free from doubt.”

An ache spread from her fingers to her wrist, and she realized her hands had clamped around his, gripping much too tight. The same suffocating feeling resurfaced from when Jace had pressed her to the wall, his fingers digging into her arm. The same feeling she had when her mom told her she wasn’t living up to her potential—to the family’s expectations. Every time she failed, it felt worse, but here, the consequences would be far more severe.

And disappointing her black knight would hurt most of all.

“I can’t,” she whispered, unable to lift her voice. “I’ll crash. It’ll ruin—”

Adrian leaned in and sucked on her neck below the helmet, inching over her sweet spot. His lips cut off her train of thought as her blood pulled to the surface. Everything became fuzzy, her body keen to soak up every ounce of his affection, relishing every sharp tug of pain as it bloomed over her pulse. Her panic twisted into a knife of liquid heat that wound down to her core.

“Say ‘I can’t’ again, and you’ll get a mark each time,” he warned, tone balancing on that thin line between admonishing and tender.

She took an unsteady breath, the tremble lingering in her voice. “That’s supposed to deter me?”

“I could always bite,” he murmured, running his teeth over the lace on her shoulder, breath hot against the crisp air.

She shivered.

“I know you can do it,” he continued, pulling away enough to look her in the eyes and returning her death grip with a squeeze. “Because you never said you didn’t want to, and if it’s something you want, I’ll make sure you get it.”

Desire warred with her unshakable apprehension—the desire to please him but also the desire to prove herself wrong. To prove she was strong enough to handle it.

She nibbled on her lip, relying on the remnants of his touch, the strength of his presence. “Will you ride with me?”

“Of course,” he said, then placed her hand on the handlebar. “Let me show you how it works.”

He walked her through the basics: what to press and when, how the bike would react, and how it would feel. If she wanted, he told her where to drive once they got past the gate, but she could hardly think about more than that.

Starting the engine seemed like the hardest part, and with his guidance, she memorized each step, repeating the actions as he explained them. Finally, he strapped his helmet on and settled in behind her. The firm plane of abdomen supported her back, his thighs sturdy guardrails and arms a harness that held her in one piece, forcing her to confront the challenge.

She swallowed, hesitant to move a single inch. No matter how much encouragement he offered, the fear wouldn’t leave.

“Kickstand first,” he reminded.

She nudged the bar, bracing herself as the weight of the bike shifted. Even with both of their feet planted on the ground, it didn’t feel stable at all. Knowing the physics that kept the bike moving didn’t change the fact that it weighed more than three hundred pounds.

She straightened, refocusing as her mind echoed with a chorus of I can’t. I shouldn’t. I’m not built for this.

“Good, now start the engine.” Adrian’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she latched onto it.

Tightening her grip, she started the ignition and twisted the throttle. His hand closed in over hers, guiding the engine to a roar that drowned out everything else. All that remained was them and the bike, the pavement and the gate ahead.

Deep breaths. Her torso expanded into his, and she lifted her gaze to look through the small visor.

Adrian had been everything she needed—everything she wanted. He’d been her anthem in the day and her lullaby at night, a man who saw her weakness and turned it into strength. The least she could do was give him this. She could hand over her fear, let him have her insecurity and her trust, and then defy her own self-imposed limits.

“All right,” she said, more to herself than to him, and eased the bike forward.

THIRTY-SIX

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