Page 29 of Pining for Pierce
“Oh? You wanna tell him that?”
“I was trying to.”
I glance down at his jacket, which is enormous on me. It’s more than big enough to accommodate my purse within its folds, and he moves closer still, zipping it up.
“Don’t forget,” he says, still holding the zipper. “I won’t be able to communicate with you, so if you wanna tell me something, tap me on the leg. Okay?”
I nod my head, and he’s about to turn away when he reaches inside the jacket pockets, pulling out his gloves.
“Do you want these?” he asks.
“No. You wear them.”
This time he doesn’t argue, and places them on the tank for a second, watching as I pull on his helmet. I try to fasten it, butI can’t. It works differently to mine, and besides, my hands are shaking.
“Let me,” he says, and I stand still, while he fastens it for me, giving me a thumbs up before he grabs his gloves, pulling them on, then climbs onto the bike, starts the engine and kicks away the side stand. He’s supporting the bike now, and just like I always do, I rest one hand on his shoulder and climb up behind him, sitting with my arms by my sides.
That’s not normal. I usually hold on to his waist, but I don’t feel like doing that tonight, and instead I sit absolutely still, waiting for him to do something… which he does. He turns around, mouthing something at me. I can’t hear him, and I shrug my shoulders, even though I’m fairly sure he’s telling me to hold on. The problem is, I can still hear so many other words… about him and Monica, and how she was ‘the one’. It doesn’t help that I saw them together, laughing and joking, making it clear she was everything he’d ever wanted… just like he said. What makes it even worse was that when he tried to warn me about Kaiden, I was so horrible to him… and that he was right, in every single way. Damn him.
I’m so angry with him still, and to prove the point, I fold my arms across my chest.
He glares at me, shaking his head, and turns around, facing the front again.
There… that told him.
Although I don’t know if I should feel so pleased with myself. I may be experienced at this, but I’ve never ridden without holding on to him… or to whoever is riding the bike, and I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous.
Maybe I should lean forward and rest my hands on the tank. I used to do that with Ben sometimes, because holding my brother wasn’t the same as holding Pierce, and I take a breath, wondering how to do that without leaning in to him too much,when he pops the clutch, making the bike jolt forward by about a foot.
I scream, although I know he won’t have heard me, and throw my arms around his waist, holding on for dear life as he sets off.
He’ll be smiling, probably with the smuggest grin known to man… but frankly, I don’t care.
All I care about is that I’m safe.
Kaiden is behind me, and with any luck, I’ll never have to see him again.
Pierce is taking it slow… much slower than he normally would, but I still don’t let go of him. I don’t even rest my hands on the tank. I just keep a firm hold of him and try to remember not to lean my head on his back like I sometimes to. That would imply we’re friends… and although he’s just rescued me from a fate worse than death, I’m not sure we are.
I’m not sure what he is to me now.
The man I’ll always love?
Probably.
The man for whom I’ll never be ‘the one’?
Absolutely.
With that thought in mind, I lean back, just slightly, putting some space between us. He reaches around with his left hand, patting me on my thigh. That’s his way of asking if I’m okay. He’s done it before, when the comms have failed, but in a way, I’m relieved I can’t communicate. I’ve got no way of saying I’m very far from okay.
He rubs his gloved hand along the outside of my leg, which ought to feel reassuring, but just feels like a massive tease, and I tense against him. I don’t know if he’s aware of that, or maybe if he senses it as a tightening of my thighs against his… which isn’t what I’d intended at all, and I make a conscious effort to relax.
He moves his hand back onto the handlebars, making a left turn, but once we’re upright, and on a nice straight stretch of road, he lowers his left hand again, this time, grabbing my left hand in his, before he raises it up, and holds it over his chest, right against this heart.
He’s never done that before, and I can’t help the gasp that leaves my lips, although I’m relieved he can’t hear it… just like I’m relieved he can’t see the tears in my eyes. How can he do this? How can he play games with me? It’s so unfair… and I pull my hand away, resting it on the tank this time, and letting my right one join it. His shoulders drop, but he doesn’t do anything, other than put his hand back on the handlebars, and speed up slightly, clearly keen to get me home.
Chapter Eight
