Page 20 of Riding Home

“Only when they matter,” he said quietly.

Clark’s fingers intertwined with mine, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.We spent the next hour talking and sharing pieces of ourselves we’d kept hidden.He spoke of his travels with the Royal Bastards MC and the brotherhood he found.I shared stories of late-night rehearsals and the loneliness that sometimes accompanied success.

As the night wore on, we drifted into a comfortable silence.Lying side by side, our hands remained clasped.Then in that quiet, our eyes locked.Before I could second-guess it, he leaned in, and our lips softly met.The kiss was so tender at first, then deepened as if a dam had broken.

When we pulled apart, I was breathless.“Clark, I...”

He brushed a strand of hair from my face.“You’re tense,” he observed.“Stressed.”

I laughed lightly.“Can you blame me?”

“Lie back down.”

“Excuse me?”

He raised his hands.“Nothing funny.I studied to be a masseuse.Let me help you relax.”

“You’re a biker who gives massages?”I teased.

He chuckled.“Is that so hard to believe?Now, get under the sheet so I can’t see anything you don’t want me to.”

I hesitated but nodded.“Fine.”

Turning away, I slipped out of my tank top and pants, keeping my undergarments on.Crawling under the sheet, I lay on my stomach.

“Comfortable?”he asked softly.

“As I’ll ever be,” I mumbled.

Starting at my shoulders, his hands felt warm and soothing.His fingers expertly massaged the knots of tension, gradually releasing the tightness.I sank into the amazing feeling, shutting my eyes to fully experience it.

“You’re really good at this,” I murmured.

“Told you.”

With skilled precision, his hands traveled down my back, creating a soothing sensation with every touch.I became acutely aware of the strength in his hands—the roughness of a man accustomed to labor, yet capable of tenderness.As he continued, I felt my barriers crumble.His gentle touch, the closeness of the moment, and the sweet taste of his kiss, still on my lips, ignited a spark within me.

“Clark,” I whispered.

“Yes?”he paused.

“Maybe...maybe I was wrong about you.”

He resumed, slower.“How so?”

“Maybe you’re not just some biker.Maybe you’re exactly what I’ve been missing.”

Silence hung before he spoke.“I’ve wanted to get to know you better since we met.”

I turned onto my back, holding the sheet to my chest.“Then maybe we should stop pretending.”

He met my gaze.“I’d like that.”

Without overthinking, I pulled him down into another kiss, deeper this time.

Maybe this was reckless.Maybe I’d regret it in the morning.But right now, I wanted more than just a massage—I wanted him.

Chapter 9

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