Page 59 of Hold Still

Taking my helmet from him, I say, “Wow. You’re clothed and ready to go for once. What exactly do you have up your sleeve?”

He turns both arms—which are bare save for his tattoos—over. “Not a thing.” He winks and heads off toward his motorcycle.

“I could drive us there!” I yell to his back.

I’m greeted by his chuckle. “C’mon. You know you like my bike.”

Well, damn. What’s not to like about the hottest guy you’ve ever seen on a motorcycle? I put the helmet on and hop on.

“Ready to rock?”

“Where are we going?”

He revs the engine. “You’re going to like it.”

With that, we take off in an opposite direction from the Strip. I close my eyes and allow my body to yield into his. Being with him is so different from getting on a bike behind Matt.

I shake my head to clear it and take in our surroundings. What is out here? The only thing I can think of is Edie Z’s. My mouth starts to water. When we turn into the chocolate factory and botanical gardens, I almost leap from the bike.

“I love it here! Daddy used to take me here every Sunday!” He’d let me have one—“only one, McKenna!”—piece of candy. Then, we’d stroll through the gardens. After about an hour, we’d head back to the house. Good memories.

I do a little jig while Ozzy secures the motorcycle and our helmets. “And here I thought I was doing something novel.”

I smile. “I always see something new here. No matter how often I visit, no two times are the same. Plus, I haven’t been since Daddy—” My voice trails and I grab Ozzy’s forearm to ground me in the present. He doesn’t notice my change in mood, but bends over and takes out a long-sleeved shirt and baseball cap from the storage area. “Come on!”

We go through the factory tour. People give Ozzy the side-eye because he’s such a tall and imposing figure. However, his dune buggy hat obscures his face. Plus, his button-down shirt, even though open, hides his tattoos. No one would think “the” Ozzy Martinez would be on such a tour.

After it ends, I grabtwopieces of candy—because I’m an adult—and lead Ozzy to the gardens, filled with desert plants. Various types of cacti and other flora entice us through. Soon, we’re in a remote area of the gardens, deviating from the main pathways while nibbling on our chocolates.

I pop the final piece into my mouth. “Mmmm. So good.”

Ozzy laughs. “If I knew chocolate would put that look on your face, I’d have bought out the store for you.”

I shake my head. “Not just any chocolate. It has to be Edie Z’s.”

He licks his index finger. “Come here, Dulcita Mía. You have some chocolate on your lip.”

I tilt my head. “‘Dulcita Mía’? What does that mean?”

“It means ‘my little sweet.’” The corner of his eyes crinkle.

I can live with that. “Oh.” My tongue reaches out to capture the missed goodness, but he says, “Nope.”

Stepping forward, his finger rubs against my bottom lip and he holds it up for me to see. I grab his hand and bring his finger into my mouth, licking the sweet stuff off.

All of a sudden, I realize what I’m doing. Ozzy’s finger is in my mouth. My eyes travel upward to his, which have turned smoky. Instead of pulling his finger away, he inserts a second one between my lips.

This is what I want. What I need. My breathing hitches as my tongue swirls around the second digit, our eyes never faltering from the other’s. His thumb rests against my chin as he pumps his fingers back and forth. Feeling unsteady on my feet, I drag my hand down to hold onto something for balance, ending around his waist.

He bends down and says in a throaty baritone, “Let’s get out of here.” Removing his fingers from my mouth, he grabs my hand and marches me out of the gardens and to his bike. “Get on Shirley,” he commands while exchanging his cap for the helmet. After he passes my helmet to me, we’re zipping out of the parking lot within seconds.

We drive farther away from the Strip. The landscape turns from buildings and commercial spaces to desolate. The first sign away from civilization says “panoramic vista” and points to the right. We turn. Driving to the very back of the almost empty lot, he motions for me to get off and to give him my helmet. Soon, he ushers me into the wooded area.

After walking for a bit, he stops and looks around. A grouping of boulders is off to one side. We’re all alone. My heartrate picks up its pace.

Ozzy takes a step toward me. I know what he wants. I need what he’s offering. He’s better than chocolate.

He puts his hand on my hair. “Red. Fiery. Just like you.”

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