Page 53 of Mating With My Grumpy Alphas
"Yeah. I know a place. Special place." I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling heat climb up from my collar. "Thought you might like to see it."
The thing was, I did have a place in mind. A spot I'd never taken anyone to because it mattered too much to risk having someone dismiss it as just another pretty view. But watching her these past weeks, seeing the way she found beauty in ordinary moments, made me think maybe she'd understand.
I'd discovered it when I was seventeen, running away from another fight with my old man about my "lack of direction" and "wasted potential." Back then, I'd ride my dirt bike as far into the mountains as the gas tank would take me, looking for places where I could think without someone telling me I was doing it wrong. Trying to find that impossible answer of who I was supposed to be.
The waterfall had been hidden behind a tangled overgrown trail that looked like it led nowhere. I'd almost missed it entirely, but something about the sound of water drew me deeper into the woods. When I'd finally pushed through the last wall of branches and seen it for the first time, it had felt like finding a secret the mountains had been keeping just for me.
Fifteen years later, it was still the place I went when the world got too complicated. When customers were unreasonable or billswere tight. And when the loneliness got so heavy I couldn't carry it anymore. It was strange how that sense of perfect solitude could make me feel like I wasn’t alone. I'd never brought another person there. Never even mentioned it to anyone.
Until now.
"How would we get there?" she asked, and I could hear real interest in her voice.
I nodded toward my motorcycle parked at the curb. "Bike's the only way to reach it. Roads are too narrow for cars."
Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the machine. It wasn't flashy, just a reliable Honda I'd rebuilt myself after buying it as a rust bucket from a guy who'd given up on it. I'd spent six months stripping it down to the frame, rebuilding the engine, rewiring everything. It wasn't pretty by magazine standards, but the Honda Africa Twin was solid and dependable and mine in a way that few things in my life had ever been.
Right now, though, I was more concerned with whether she'd trust me enough to climb on behind me.
"I've never been on a motorcycle," she admitted, but there was curiosity in her voice instead of fear.
"I've got an extra helmet. Won't let anything happen to you."
The promise came out more intense than I'd intended, carrying weight that had nothing to do with traffic safety and everything to do with the protective instincts that flared whenever she was near. She must have heard it too, because something shifted in her expression, a softening that made my chest tight.
"Okay," she said simply. "Let me just grab my camera from the car."
"You won't need it," I said, then caught myself. "I mean, bring it if you want. But this isn't about taking pictures. It's about... being somewhere that matters."
She studied my face for a long moment, and I wondered if I'd said too much, revealed too much of what this meant to me.
"Okay," she said again, but softer this time. "No camera. Just us."
Twenty minutes later, she was standing beside the bike wearing my spare helmet, looking nervous but determined. I'd spent the time adjusting everything, checking the tire pressure twice, making sure the spare helmet fit her properly. The helmet was slightly too big for her, but I'd tightened the straps as much as possible. She looked small and vulnerable in all that black plastic and padding, and every protective instinct I had was screaming at me to wrap her in bubble wrap instead of taking her on mountain roads.
But she was looking at the bike with excitement instead of fear, and there was trust in her scent underneath the nervousness.
"Just hold on tight," I told her as I swung my leg over and started the engine. The familiar rumble settled something anxious in my chest. This, at least, I knew how to do. "Lean with me on the turns, don't fight it. If you need me to stop for any reason, just tap my shoulder."
She nodded, then climbed on behind me, and every thought in my head scattered like leaves in a windstorm.
Her thighs pressed against my hips, warm and firm through the denim of her jeans. Her arms wrapped around my waist, hands flat against my stomach, and even through our clothes and the leather of my jacket, I could feel every curve of her body settling against mine. She smelled like jasmine and books and something essentially her that made my alpha instincts purr with satisfaction.
This was a mistake. I should have suggested dinner somewhere public, or maybe a movie where we'd sit in separate seats and I wouldn't have to deal with the exquisite torture ofhaving her wrapped around me while trying to concentrate on not getting us both killed on winding mountain roads.
But when she settled more comfortably against my back, her arms tightening slightly around my waist, I realized I wouldn't trade this for anything. My hands came to the backs of her knees and I tugged her closer, needing to erase even the slightest of distance between us. She made a little gasp or surprise and then she just melted against my back exactly how I wanted.
This was exactly where I wanted her to be. Exactly where I wantedmy omegato be. The alpha in me purred in satisfaction and I knew she’d be able to register the satisfaction in my scent. For once, I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate having my emotions broadcast for other people. I wanted her to know how she made me feel.
"Ready?" I called over the engine noise.
"Ready," she called back, and I felt her grip tighten with determination.
I pulled away from the curb slowly, hyperaware of her weight behind me, the way she moved with the bike's motion. Every shift and curve of the road pressed her closer, her breath warming the back of my neck through my helmet. Her thighs tightened on my hips when I leaned into turns, and the vibration of the engine between us created an intimacy I hadn't anticipated.
She was a natural passenger. Some people fought the bike's movement, trying to stay upright when they should lean, tensing up when they should relax. But Willa seemed to understand instinctively that riding meant becoming part of the machine, moving with it instead of against it.
After the first few miles, I felt her confidence growing. Her grip around my waist relaxed from desperate to comfortable, her body settling against mine with trust instead of fear. When I leaned into a particularly sweet curve, she leaned with meperfectly, and I had to bite back a groan at how good it felt to move together like that.
