Page 152 of A Little Complicated

I spend the next day in bed with Ophelia at her place, and when the late afternoon hits, I invite her on a motorcycle ride. She says yes without hesitation. We take the long way, Ophelia’s arms wrapped around my waist, and a familiar hum from the warm breeze surrounds us. It makes conversation nearly impossible. But it’s nice. Cleansing almost. We make our way up the mountain on the winding road with Ophelia’s front pressed to my back. Trees line both sides, but the view waiting for us spurs me on. I rev the engine, craving the adrenaline rush. I slowly brake as we approach the end of the road and the break in the treeline I know is coming.

I’ve been here dozens of times—hell, maybe a hundred—since my diagnosis. I craved the isolation. The peace. The beauty. It was like my soul needed the reminder not everything is shitty, and maybe, just maybe, someone out there has a plan. Someone who knows what they’re doing. Then again, maybe there isn’t.

But with a view like the one I know is coming, I can’t help but wonder.

And for a guy who’s dying, it’s enough. The possibility. The potential. Themaybe.

Different shades of orange, pink, and purple began painting the sky a few minutes ago, making the drive almost dreamlike. Or maybe it’s the surreality of last night and today. I can’t believe I told her everything. I can’t believe she knows the truth. I can’t believe she’s here with me. With her arms wrapped around my waist and her desire to be my forever, even when she knows I can’t be hers.

When we break free from the treeline, the colors grow even more vibrant, and I pull off to the side of the road, taking in the sun hidden beneath a blanket of clouds as it slowly sets. Once the tires meet dirt, I cut the engine, and it stops rumbling beneath us. Ophelia slips her helmet off, and her strawberry blonde hair cascades around her shoulders. It’s even more red as the sunlight glints off it, framing her face and making her freckles pop off her porcelain skin.

When she catches me staring at her over my shoulder, she shies away with a soft smile playing at the edge of her lips. “What are you looking at?”

“You really are gorgeous, you know.”

“Wanna talk gorgeous?” She tears her attention from me and looks out at the skyline. “This sunset is…” She whistles. “Am I right?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “It’s nice.”

“Nice? My good sir, it’s picture perfect.” Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she scoots closer to my back and raises her cell into the air, framing us on the screen. The background is a canvas of colors, and she kisses my cheek while snapping a picture.

“Look at the camera,” she orders.

I do.

“Smile,” she adds.

A grin tugs at my mouth, but I’m no longer looking at my reflection. I’m too busy staring at the girl behind me on my bike. The girl doing her best to act normal despite everything I told her in the last twenty-four hours. It makes me love her even more.

She snaps a few more pictures and rests her head against my back, letting out a soft little sigh of contentment. It’s as if it soaks into my skin, releasing the constant ache in my chest ever since I found out about my death sentence, and I look out at the watercolor landscape in front of us.

With another click of the camera, she announces, “There. Perfect. Now, on to the next order of business.”

“What business?”

“Well, the whole rumble of the engine and snuggling against a good-looking guy’s back for the last forty-five minutes has me all hot and bothered.” She swings her leg over the back of the bike and takes a few steps toward the ledge while still facing me with her arms open wide. “You gonna help a girl out or what?”

The last rays from the sun make her practically glow and highlight her curves as she cocks her head, waiting.

“Is this your way of coming on to me?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, was I being too subtle?” She hooks her thumbs in her jeans and shimmies them down her legs until I’m gifted with a view of her long, lean legs and smooth, silky skin. “Maverick, I want you to ravage me on this mountain and make me come at least two times,” she challenges. “Was that direct enough for you?”

She’s lucky this road is always empty, or I’d throw her over my shoulder and spank her ass for being so brazen.

“Yeah, I think it’ll do.” I climb off my bike and dig into the leather saddle bag, pulling out a small checkered blanket and spreading it on the grass.

“Do you always carry a blanket?” she asks.

“I do now.”

With a laugh, she strides toward me and kneels in front of me. Her thighs are spread a few inches, showcasing the thin scrap of baby blue cloth covering her lower half as she smooths out the checkered fabric. “Now, do I keep undressing myself, or will you help me out a little?” She peeks up at me through her thick upper lashes. “Then again, I kind of like this position. Maybe it’s you who’s wearing too much clothing.” Slowly, she slides her hands up her thighs and reaches for the top button on my jeans. My dick strains against the zipper, but I keep my hands fisted at my sides as she slowly slides it down.

A smile teases her lips as her tongue darts out and moistens the edge of her bottom lip. “Not gonna lie. I missed this.” Her eyes lift to mine. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Opie.”

“My name isn’t Opie.” She slides her hand along the ridge of my cock through my boxers and pulls my hard length free from the black material. Slowly, she runs her hand up and down my shaft, but her eyes don’t leave mine. My dick jerks in her palm as she leans closer, pressing a soft kiss against the tip. Leaning back a few inches, she blows against the head.

---