She held me like I was the only thing keeping her on the planet. It was a grip reserved for lovers or, in her case, people who had never been on a motorcycle before.

I didn’t have a spare helmet, so I’d forced her to wear mine while I went without. My father would have praised me while my mother would have cracked me upside my temple for choosing someone’s safety over my own.

But she wasn’t here.

And Sammy was.

My engine crackled, gravel flying away from my front tire as I pulled up outside the impound lot. The metal beast purred between my thighs, then it went silent. “Here we are,” I said, twisting to look at Sammy.

Inch by inch, she eased her hands off my middle. They were bent like claws, clearly cramped. I missed them instantly. When she pulled the helmet off, her hair fell from it in tangled strands.

The sight of her stunned face—wide lips, sparkling eyes, and tomato cheeks—made my heart jump. It was a confusing sensation that left me dizzy.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She focused on me, blinking. “I know how it feels to be a cannonball.”

Laughter exploded from me. “That’s one way to describe it.” My hand came up, stroking hair from her forehead before I could stop myself. We touched through our skin . . . but it was more than that.

Heat plucked at the base of my neck. I couldn’t stop how my brushing fingertips became a firm palm cupping her cheek. My mouth tingled; I knew how she’d taste, I wanted to experience her soft lips as they buzzed with the last of her adrenaline.

Sammy started to lean in. In the blackness of her dilating pupils, I saw my half-open mouth. She must have seen her own expression in my eyes, too. My thumb grazed the corner of her lips; her hand closed on mine, pushing me away.

“Come on,” she said, leaving the helmet on the seat. “Let’s go.”

Recovering from the rejection, I followed her down. Her bare feet touched the hot gravel, but it was her bones—still vibrating with the violence of my bike—that gave up. Sammy buckled sideways, her dress flipping upward as her face crashed straight toward the ground.

Faster than I had any right to be . . . but I just needed to be . . . I caught her by her elbow. It was like the other day in my driveway all over again. We were tangled dancers, and while no one had seen us yesterday, a confused impound worker gawked at us now.

Gentle as a breeze, I scooped her up in my arms. Sammy gasped, which was good, because it muted my subtle groan. Holding her against me was pure pleasure. Her weight was perfect, just enough to keep me grounded so I wouldn’t float into the heavens.

“Kain, put me down.”

“Nope. Have you seen this place?” Stepping over rocks and broken glass, I headed for the gate. “You don’t want to put those heels back on, that’s fine. But if you try to step on this shit with your silky feet, you’ll be seeing blood.”

“My silky feet? Jeez, don’t tell me you have a foot fetish.”

The man waiting by the gate stood up like we were royalty coming his way. He had no clue that one of us actually was. “Hey there,” I said, squinting at his name tag. “. . . Larry. My lady friend here has a car she needs to grab. Show him the paperwork, Sammy.”

Pulling her purse into her lap, she fumbled the yellow papers out, handing them over. The young man took them hesitantly, saying, “Uh, all right. Give me your key, I’ll go grab it.”

Sammy gave them up, then we both watched as Larry trucked off across the giant lot of vehicles. It was like a graveyard for cars, their bodies in various degrees of decay.

The wind kicked dust up, and on instinct, I shielded Sammy from it. Doing so pushed my face close to the top of her head. Hair strands tickled my cheeks, a sensation as nice as her fingers would have been on the small of my back.

“Kain,” she whispered.

My veins quickened. “Yeah?”

“After this . . . I don’t want to see you again.”