Page 39 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

“Sounds exhausting,” I say, and her lips quirk up in a faint smile, like she can’t help but agree.

“It is,” she admits. “But she means well. Most of the time.” She pauses, glancing at me briefly before looking away again. “I just don’t want her to think I’m sneaking off to do something reckless.”

My lips twitch into a faint smirk. “And yet, here you are. Sneaking off to do something reckless.”

That earns me a soft laugh, and the sound hits me harder than it should. She shakes her head, her curls brushing against her neck as she looks up at me. “I wouldn’t call this reckless.”

“No?” I arch a brow, leaning forward slightly. “Hopping on a bike with me, heading out into the middle of nowhere? Sounds a little reckless to me.”

Her smile widens, her cheeks flushing just enough to make me want to keep pushing, to keep pulling at those threads of vulnerability and boldness that seem to twist together in her. “Maybe a little,” she says, meeting my gaze for just a second longer than she needs to.

“Don’t worry,” I say, my voice dipping lower. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Her blush deepens, and she ducks her head, but not before I catch the faint curve of her lips. “I’m not worried,” she murmurs.

Good. Because I am. But I’ll be damned if I let her see it.

I push off the bike, taking a step closer, and tilt my head toward her. “You nervous?”

Her eyes snap up to meet mine, wide and startled. “What? No.”

I raise an eyebrow, letting my gaze flick to the bike. “About the ride, I mean. You ever been on one before?”

She hesitates again, her cheeks flushing. “No,” she admits.

A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

“It’s not the bike,” she says quickly, crossing her arms defensively. “I mean, maybe a little. But I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” I say. I sling my leg over the seat, then I pat the spot behind me. “Hop on.”

She eyes the bike warily, then looks at me like she’s reconsidering everything. “What do I…?”

“You sit,” I say, smirking. “Hold on to me. That’s it.”

Her blush deepens, but she steps closer, reaching out hesitantly. I catch her hand, guiding her onto the seat behind me. She’s stiff, awkward, her hands hovering like she’s not sure where to put them.

“You’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that,” I murmur.

Her hands rest lightly on my sides, and I can feel her warmth even through my shirt. “Like this?”

“Closer,” I say, enjoying the way her breath hitches.

She shifts forward, her arms wrapping around my waist, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. The feel of her against me, her chest pressing lightly into my back, her hands resting just above my belt—it’s too much and not enough all at once. My wolf stirs, restless, the instinct to keep her close roaring louder than the bike beneath us.

“You good?” I rasp, wondering if I’m the one who needs checking in on.

“Yeah,” she breathes. There’s something about the way she says it, something that makes me grip the handlebars a little tighter.

“Hold on,” I warn, kicking the bike into gear.

The engine roars to life, the vibrations running through both of us as the bike surges forward. Magnolia’s arms tighten around me instinctively, her hands pressing harder against my stomach, and I can’t stop the smirk that tugs at my lips. She’s nervous, but she’s holding on to me like I’m the only thing keeping her steady.

We roll toward the gate, the sun just beginning to rise, casting the world in soft shades of gold and pink. The den is still quiet, the early hour keeping most people in their beds. But as we approach the wooden barricade, the silhouette of a familiar figure comes into view.

Grant.

He’s perched in the watchtower by the gate, a thermos in one hand and a rifle resting against the wall beside him. His head lifts as he hears us approach, and even from a distance, I can see the knowing grin spreading across his face. By the time we reach him, he’s standing up, one eyebrow raised as he takes us in.

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