Page 12 of Drift
Alanna stepped out first, sunlight catching in her hair, followed by Ethan—still talking and standing too close. I didn’t like the way his hand brushed her arm. Then he leaned down to say something in her ear, and she flinched. It was just the slightest movement, but that was enough.
I pushed off the bike and started walking.
She saw me before he did, her eyes widening at my expression and body language. She moved fast, intercepting me before I reached him, and pressed a small hand to my chest. “Can we go?”
The heat of her palm bled through the cotton. For a second, neither of us breathed. Then she stepped back, and the spell broke.
My attention shifted to him. One look—cold and unblinking—and he got the message. Whatever noise he’d been making died in his throat. He muttered something about being late and took off for his car.
I watched until his taillights disappeared, then looked back at her. “Helmet.”
She nodded quickly, grateful and flustered, slipping it on without a word.
The ride back to her apartment was quiet except for the wind and hum of the engine beneath us. Her arms were tight around me, her cheek pressing lightly against my shoulder. Every curve in the road pulled her closer, each exhale syncing with mine until I wasn’t sure whose pulse hammered harder.
By the time we rolled into her complex, the afternoon heat had turned the morning breeze into a thick humidity that the wind struggled to move. Alanna didn’t let go right away when I stopped. I could feel her breathing against my back, shallow and uneven. When she finally slid off, she handed me the helmet like she was waking from a dream.
I dismounted and walked her to the door. Inside the hallway, the light was soft, filtered through cheap blinds. Nothing like the warmth and homey feel of her apartment.
She turned the key in the lock, then looked up at me. Her hair was a little messy from the helmet, her lips pink from where she’d been worrying them. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Wasn’t an option.”
A giggle popped out, and her eyes twinkled.
“Which is funny because…?”
She shrugged and tried to hide her smile. “Never saw you as the knight-in-shining-armor type.”
I frowned. “I’m the furthest thing from that. Don’t get it twisted up in your pretty little head, Alanna.” If she thought I owned even a single link of chainmail, she was deluding herself about who I really was. “Never forget what I’m capable of. I’m no one’s knight. And no one’s happily ever after.”
The sparkle in her eyes dimmed, and I immediately wanted to take it all back. I wanted to be whoever and whatever she needed. But reality was a bitch. There was a reason Jax didn’twant his sweet, innocent little sister with a man like me. And I couldn’t blame him. But it didn’t stop me from wanting her.
“I’m around if you need me,” I muttered, so she didn’t think my little speech meant she was on her own. I would always protect her. Even from myself.
Something flickered in her expression—relief, maybe. Or something deeper. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, then stopped. The silence stretched between us.
Finally, she took a step closer, and her fingers brushed my forearm. Tentative, as though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed. That was all it took to knock something loose in me, rattling my sense of reality so I forgot all the reasons I shouldn’t have her.
The air between us changed—warmer, heavier. Every part of me went still. Her eyes lifted, wide and searching, and I felt that slow, familiar burn start low in my gut. The one I’d been pretending didn’t exist since the day I saw her at the wedding.
I stepped in before I could stop myself.
My palm hit the door beside her head, the wood thudding beneath it. My other hand found her jaw—warm and smooth under my calluses.
I dragged my thumb over her velvety bottom lip, and the air between us thickened.
She tilted her chin up, eyes wide, and her breath caught. The sound—half gasp, half question—killed what was left of my control.
Warnings blared in my head like neon signs.
Don’t do it.
She’s Jax’s sister, asshole.
Yeah, it didn’t fucking matter.
My voice was a growl against her mouth. “Can’t fucking fight it anymore.”
