Page 17 of Worth the Trouble

“I didn’t skip anything.” I cross my arms over my chest.

He leans in until his mouth is by my ear and his breath is tickling my neck. “Even more intriguing.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, I have to take a step back. This close, Rome is too overwhelming, smells too good. He fogs my head with a constant mix of intrigue and irritation, and it’s got me on edge.

I grab the helmet out of his hands before he can say anything else filthy and walk around him. “Let’s just get going.”

With the helmet strapped under my chin, I stand and wait for him to sling his leg over the bike, not missing that he’s chuckling.

“Don’t you need a helmet?” I ask him as the motorcycle roars to life.

It sends vibrations through the forest. Veins of energy sweep the ground and climb my bare legs, making my insides flutter.

“Only have the one.” He shrugs, looking at me over his shoulder.

“You could die.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up, and I almost think he took that as a challenge.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart. But I appreciate your concern.” The bike roars as he faces straight ahead. “Now hop on.”

I’ve never been on a motorcycle before—or done anything remotely dangerous.

Being a dancer means I have to take care of my body if I want to maintain my career. On top of that, my life is carved in crystal. My parents came from money, as did their parents, and their parents. I was brought up to respect the fruit of many generations. To talk quietly, to act like a lady, to follow directions, to not talk back.

To be careful.

I know better than to put myself in the line of danger. Yet, as I take Rome’s hand and accept his help as I climb onto his bike behind him, I can’t help that my heart is racing.

My legs straddle him, and the wideness forces the hem of my dress dangerously close to my hips. My butt is barely covered, and I can’t ignore the fact that all that sits between Rome and me is my flimsy, lacy underwear.

The bike rumbles as he pulls forward, and I feel it all the way up my core. Heat rushes my cheeks, and I’m thankful Rome can’t look at me right now or it would give him one more thing to make fun of me about.

It’s not my fault I’ve gone too long without an orgasm. It’s not as easy for me to let down my guard with people as it seems to be for him. While he sleeps his way around the world, that’s nowhere near the case for me.

Besides, it’s not like Rome is the cause of the blood rushing between my legs right now. It’s the bike rumbling beneath me, the heat of a man—any man—between my legs. It’s the scent of a fading summer and the craving for warmth in winter.

I refuse to believe the inferno building in my center has anything to do with Rome Moreno.

“You all right back there?” Rome yells.

I realize I’m gripping his waist for dear life, and I loosen a little at his comment. We’re probably not going that fast, but it feels like we’re racing through the forest. Or maybe that’s my heart in my chest.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

He doesn’t need to know that I’m actually terrified. That my life has been so sheltered that this is the most excitement I’ve had as far back as I can remember. He doesn’t need to know that for the first time in a long time, I feel something other than empty.

I close my eyes and rest my head against his solid back, trying to steady my breathing, letting my body lean with his as he winds along the road. I relax and hand my control over to him, as I’m used to doing with people, even if with him it feels different.

It’s freeing.

Speeding down the road, nothing between me and the air. Just Rome and me.

One wrong move and we could be blood splatter on pavement, but for some unknown reason, I trust him.

The hum of the road and Rome’s steady breathing calms me, and I melt into it. I allow myself to feel the warmth of being wrapped around him. I let my hands hold him and find comfort in it.

He’s lean, but solid muscle. And I can’t help but wonder just how far his tattoos go. From the pictures online, they appear to cover him almost completely, and I can’t help but wonder what each one of them means, if anything.

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