My stomach twists, not from hunger but from anxiety and excitement. Is this a date? It feels like it. I try to remind myself I have no interest in dating but apparently my limbs don’t get the message as they follow Hunter while he wheels the bike out and motions for me to climb up behind him. I snap shut the visor of the helmet, fill my lungs with a deep breath and get on. The engine thrums between my legs, the smell of oil and leather surrounds me.
We leave behind the busy streets and head north. The rush of wind and the vibration of the bike is exhilarating. I grin as Hunter takes us out onto a main road and we pick up speed. I haven’t ridden a bike in so long but even my past experiences pale. Hunter’s torso beneath my hands and the confident way he handles the motorbike makes the experience a million times better. The man is so in control.
We stop briefly at a drive-through and he hands me the bag of warm food. I put it between us, careful not to squash it as he starts the bike again. I have no idea where he’s taking me and for once, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything apart from the buzz of freedom and Hunter. He slows down and brings the bike into a parking lot. I glance around and realize we’re on Parliament Hill, overlooking the city. It’s quiet for a Sunday, probably because the weather hasn’t warmed up enough yet but there’s a few dog walkers and families strolling across the hill.
Hunter climbs off and offers me a hand. Once I’m stood in front of him, he unclasps my helmet and pulls it off. I let him. It feels like the most natural thing to allow him to take the lead. It’s so nice not to have to take responsibility for everything in my life for a change.
I run my hands over my hair and grin at him, then pause and drop my hand. Still holding the helmets in one hand, he leans forward. I tilt my head and his solemn expression makes the air in my lungs stutter. His lips meet mine in a rush but this kiss is gentle. It twists my heart.
I should be fighting this but it’s impossible. He’s like no one I’ve ever met. Cocky, confident, in command. And totally straight forward. I love how he lays things down. There’s no games with him. He wants me as much as I want him. After so long being alone, hiding, I’m weak against his onslaught.
Fingers tangling in his hair, I relax into him. A primitive sound from him sends thrills skittering through me and I part my lips, give him access. My legs judder when his tongue touches mine. He must still be holding the helmets as he doesn’t touch me. I’m dying for his hands on my skin but at the same time, I’m grateful not to be distracted by his touch. It’s too electrifying. This way I can twine my fingers through the softness of his dark hair and trace down the back of his neck. I luxuriate in the strength of those shoulders and bring my palms to his chest. His heart pounds against my hand, strong and sure, echoing the qualities I admire in him.
“Hunter,” I whisper when he pulls back briefly.
It breaks the spell. He jolts and rips his mouth fully from mine. We stand close enough that I could go on tiptoes and be connected once more, but the conflict in his blue eyes prevents me. Several breaths pass between us before he draws away completely and I miss the heat of him against my hands.
“Sorry,” he says gruffly. “I told you you’d be safe with me.”
Should I be grateful he broke things off? Yes. But I can’t be. No one has ever kissed me like that. I want more. I thought I’d learned my lesson with my ex but clearly not.
“You said I’d be safe,” I remind him. “You didn’t say you wouldn’t kiss me.”
His lips tilt and he eyes me from under his brow. The miasma of colours in his eyes holds me captive.
“I told myself I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
Hunter studies me and turns abruptly. “Christ,” he mutters. Placing the helmets on the Harley, he faces me. “Let’s find somewhere to eat.” He points to a bench nearby. “That will do.”
Coldness eats into me, a knot gathers inside. Why didn’t he want to kiss me? He’s the one who has pushed and cajoled me into spending time with him and now he’s regretting kissing me? Have I pushed him away somehow? Perhaps he believes I don’t want to be kissed. After all, he kissed me first last time and I’ve been pretty reluctant. I snort inwardly. I’m fickle. Now he’s turned off the heat, I want more. I thought I was better than that.
I follow him to the bench like a little lost puppy, feeling foolish. His rejection has dented my pride, for sure. We sit and he hands me the muffin. I unpeel it and when he takes the wrapper from me to chuck it in the trash next to us, I bristle.
“What’s wrong?”
I swear he is too observant. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t a woman only say ‘nothing’ when something is wrong?”
I swivel to face him. “I don’t need you babying me. I know I must seem pretty helpless to you. Can’t even look after myself while suffering with a migraine, but I’m not really….”
His twisted smile drops. “I know you’re not. I don’t mean to, princess. Guess it’s in my nature. I won’t make any excuses for that.”
Now I feel an idiot. He shouldn’t have to make excuses for taking care of me. I should be apologizing for behaving like an angsty teenager.