Page 42 of At the Edge of Surrender

She’d been there for a reason, and not because she’d beenlost.

Maybe it’d been simply because she waslooking for me. And fuck, some flawed spot inside me wanted her to do it.

Find me.

Completely.

I almost laughed.

Some flawed spot?

Like my entire fucking life wasn’t flawed?

Treacherous and grim?

One step away, Emery paused. Those entrancing, toffee-kissed eyes swirled with uncertainty.

All the playfulness I’d been fronting drained away. “This bike is an extension of me, Emery. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Skepticism filled her huff. “That probably gives me all the more reason to be.”

I could feel her trembling as she carefully lifted her leg so she could swing it over. I helped her, shifting around the best that I could to guide her onto the seat.

She settled on it with three inches of space separating us.

I took the handlebars again, kicking the bike over and shouting over the roar, “You’re going to want to wrap those arms around me and hold on tight.”

When I pulled back on the throttle to rev it, she surged forward, doing exactly that.

Holding on with all her might, those delicate arms wrapped so snug around my waist I could hardly breathe.

Or maybe it was just the feel of her against my back that was stealing the air.

That body plastered against mine, her small tits and her ravaging heart and her quivering thighs.

My right hand clamped down on the top of her right leg, and she nearly jumped two feet in the air. “I’ve got you, Emery. Just hold on. Won’t let anything happen to you.”

She had her cheek pressed between my shoulders, and I didn’t even know how I heard it since the words barely broke the air.

Maybe I just felt them knitting into my flesh.

Their weight when she released them between my shoulder blades over my shirt.

“Why am I supposed to trust you?”

She had no reason to.

Hell, she shouldn’t at all.

And still, I settled my hand over hers that were locked on the front of my abdomen, voice low when I muttered, “Because I mean it. I’ve got you.”

I wanted to. The way I’d wanted to last night. The way I’d wanted to erase the sorrow that had her chained.

Gripping the handlebars, I backed the bike out of the spot with my boots, then I pulled back on the throttle and took us to the street.

She squeezed tight. Tighter than she should be able to.

The feel of her everywhere. Dainty arms and slim thighs and delicious scent.

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