Page 123 of Hymns of the Broken
The engine between my thighs roars like it knows what I’m thinking.
She’s on the back ofhisbike. Arms wrapped tight aroundhiswaist, hair whipping behind her like a goddamn banner—his banner. And I’m behind them on the road, following, the wind doing jack shit to cool the fire crawling under my skin.
She looksgoodon the back of a bike. Like she belongs to the chaos of it. Like she was born for this reckless, dangerous rhythm.
But it’s notmybike she’s clinging to.
I watch the way she leans into Jasper’s back, the trust in her body language. The way she laughs when he takes a sharp curve and she has to hold on tighter. And I wonder—how long has it been since she felt that free? That fearless?
I could give her that.
In a different way.
I downshift, letting the Yamaha eat a little more road so I can close the distance. Not enough to be beside them. Just enough to make sure heknowsI’m still here.
That she remembers I’m still here.
Her head turns—just slightly—and I catch a glimpse of her smile over her shoulder. She knows I’m watching.
I shoot her a wink before speeding up and blowing past them, giving the throttle hell. The engine howls, and Jasper flips me off as I fly by.
Yeah, I’ll let him have his moment.
But I’m not fucking done.
SAWYER
The wind whips against my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling inside my chest.
Jasper’s solid beneath me—steady hands, smooth control, like he was built to ride. I hold tighter when he takes a curve, the leather of his jacket warm beneath my fingers, the scent of him grounding me like gravity.
But it’s not just him, I feel.
It’s Riot—his presence like static electricity in the air, lingering even before I see him.
When he blows past us, reckless and grinning, it’s like lightning cracking open the blue sky. He shoots me a wink before he guns the throttle and disappears up the road.
I can’t stop my smile. Can’t stop the little ache that pulses in my chest because I want to be on his bike just as much.
Jasper flips him off with one hand, and I laugh into his back. For a minute, it’s easy and light. But my head is a mess of want, guilt, and possibility.
Riot’s under my skin. Jasper’s in my bones. I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend this isn’t going to break all of us wide open.
When we pull off at a scenic overlook—crumbling guardrail, wildflowers, sun painting everything gold—Jasper plants his boot on the pavement and turns to look at me over his shoulder, eyes dark and searching.
“You okay, baby?”
His voice is gentler than I expected. I nod, but my heart is thundering. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
He studies me—sees right through every lie, every deflection, every secret bruise in my soul. His hand cups my thigh, grounding me, thumb stroking the inside like a promise.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, rough but real.
Before I can say anything, Jasper shifts on his seat and grabs my waist and in one smooth pull, he swings me around to his front to face him, like I was made for this position.
“That’s better, now I can see you, Little Sin.” His gaze rakes over me, lingering on every detail like he’s memorizing me. “You know,” he murmurs, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything look better on this bike than you.”
His hands slide up my thighs, fingers pressing into the denim, making me ache for more. His touch stops at my waist, thumbs stroking circles just under the hem of my tank top.
