Riveted. Jay Crownover
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his fingers to tuck a loose curl back behind my ear. “I will do a better job of keeping an eye on you while you’re in my hands.”
I wanted to turn my face into his palm and let him caress my cheek but it was all too much for my tender heart to take. The only thing I’d wanted since I fell for him was to be in his hands and for him to find a place for me inside of his heart. I’d wanted all the things he was saying to me from him when I thought there was the possibility of a future for us. He was going home to a life that didn’t include me and I was going back to Denver and a life that wasn’t going to be nearly as satisfying without him. Him giving all of this to me now felt wasted and trivial. He could throw pretty words and sentiment at me because he knew we were going to head our separate ways soon and he wouldn’t have to live up to them for very long.
I took a step away from him and tugged on the end of my coat so that I didn’t reach for him. “It was just a prank gone wrong. I’m sure it will be smooth sailing from here on out. We’d better get going if you want to make it into Kansas tonight. You said you wanted to ride at least a few more hours as long as the weather cooperated.”
He looked like he wanted to say something more to me but instead he gave a jerky nod and moved to strap his own headgear on. He swung a long leg over the bike and waited for me to situate myself behind him before starting the motor back up. I didn’t hold him as tightly as I had the first part of the ride and I didn’t lean as close to him as I could. My body wanted the contact but the rest of me couldn’t take it. He had my emotions on overload and my hormones battling against common sense. This favor felt like it might be the death of me and we hadn’t even crossed any state lines yet.
I had my hands low on Church’s ribs, but kept a pretty tight grip on him with my legs. It didn’t feel as intimate as curling myself into his back and even though the distance was minimal it felt like we were miles apart. His big body was just as stiff as mine was as he muscled the motorcycle through some heavy traffic the closer we got to the border of Kansas. It was semi-truck after semi-truck whizzing by making air rush around us and provoking me to be even more alert and tenser than I normally was when riding. Being on a motorcycle was already dangerous, being on a motorcycle surrounded by twenty-ton trucks seemed even more hazardous. If Church lost focus or got distracted at all, things weren’t going to go well for either of us. Luckily he drove the bike like he did everything else, with single-minded determination and unwavering intensity. There was nothing casual or relaxed about him as he zipped around the big rigs. I wasn’t sure that was how he normally handled the bike or if he was simply being extra cautious because of my history but either way I was grateful for his palpable concentration and consideration.
It took us another hour to hit the very flat and, even in the dark, very boring landscape of Kansas. We had the entire state to drive through tomorrow and I knew from a previous road trip that I had taken with my family when I was younger that we were in for a lot of corn and cows. I was ready to call it a day. My backside was starting to get numb and my spine hurt from sitting so straight so that I could keep some breathing room between me and Church’s leather-clad back. I was also hungry and still needed that hour-long shower to wash away the grime and gunk from the truck stop bathroom. Not to mention I’d been pulled from bed way earlier than I was used to, so I was struggling to keep my eyes open and to stay alert to what was happening around us.
I was leaning forward in order to holler into Church’s ear that he should stop when we got to the next town that looked like it might have a decent hotel or motel for us to crash at for the evening. I was jolted from my position when all of a sudden an engine revved, tires squealed, and headlights cut across the black asphalt far too close to us for any kind of comfort.
I couldn’t stop the shrill shriek of terror that ripped out of my throat as the massive machine I was perched so precariously on rapidly veered to the right. I felt a wobble and heard the motor protest underneath me.
Pride be damned. I threw myself into Church’s back and wrapped my arms so tightly around his middle that I wouldn’t be surprised if he had to struggle to breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut and sent a silent prayer up to the sky just in case some divine being wanted to cut me a break today. I didn’t see my life flash before my eyes but everything that could be did.
The family of my own I would never have.
The perfect wedding that I’d dreamed of ever since I was little looking at the pictures that hung in my house from that magical day my mom and dad shared.
The guy … who wasn’t perfect … but still made my heart flutter and my knees weak. The one that I wanted more than anything I had ever wanted before … the one who felt cold yet refused to let me warm him up.
And the sex … good God the sex. The mind-melting, soul-stopping, heart-healing, and body-bending sex. The sex that would make all other sex meaningless and forgettable. The sex that would make everything old feel new again. The sex that would be unforgettable and extraordinary. The sex I was never going to have because the man I wanted to have it with didn’t know what I knew.
It made me want to cry for what could be and for what should be. It made me hurt for both of us because even though my heart was invested and his wasn’t I knew Church deserved more than a life spent alone staggering through the dark.
By some miracle the bike stayed upright and neither one of us went flying off the seat and into a field of corn. Church pulled the motorcycle over onto the shoulder of the highway and propped the heavy machine up on the kickstand so that we both could climb off and catch our breath. Big trucks continued to zoom by oblivious to the near-death experience that left us both shaken and rattled.
Church ripped his helmet off and glared down the highway like his fury alone was enough to stop the reckless driver in his tracks so that vengeance and quite possibly an ass kicking could be doled out. He shifted his furious gaze to me and put the helmet on the seat of the bike so that he could catch me when I started to wilt to the ground. My legs wouldn’t hold me up anymore and my spine felt like Jell-O as I folded towards the asphalt.
I was shaking so hard that he had to struggle to find a good grip on my arms to keep me upright. “It’s okay, Dixie. I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
I couldn’t do it anymore. The space was too much. I needed his strength and his quiet confidence to keep me from falling apart on the side of the road.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my face into the center of his chest. I could hear his heart beating just as fast as mine was but while I quaked and quivered, struggling not to cry, he stood sturdy and strong, unruffled and as cool and calm as always. He was like a tree standing tall and unmoved after a terrible storm. There was so much comfort in that steady self-assurance that my legs quit trembling and my lungs remembered how to work.
I breathed him in and exhaled the terror and panic out. I thought he was going to stand there immobile and immovable but his hold shifted from my upper arms so that one arm wrapped around my shoulders clutching me to him almost as tightly as I was clinging to his waist, while the other moved so that one of his hands was cradling the back of my head, helmet and all. He held me to him letting me know that if pieces started to break off if I did indeed shatter, he was there to catch them and put them back in place. It was singularly the most important and most impactful hug of my entire life.
After a few minutes of headlights hitting us and exhaust fumes choking us I gave him one last hug for good measure and pulled back enough that I could look up and barely make out his features in the shadows.
“I totally believe that it’s in your best interest to keep me alive, Church. I’m having serious doubts other motorists feel the same way. That was way too close for comfort.” My voice was slightly shaky and the humor I attempted was forced at best.
He gave a little nod of agreement. “Way too close. If I hadn’t been paying attention that would have been bad … really bad.” I appreciated the fact he didn’t sugarcoat things for me. I hated the fact that he seemed to be taking some sort of responsibility for the poor driving habits of someone else when he told me, “I shouldn’t have asked you to take this trip with me. I should have just bought you a plane ticket and met you at