Avery:
The low growl of the engine died as Cruz killed the bike in my driveway. My thighs ached from the long ride, pressed tight against his, but I didn’t let go. Not right away. I stayed pressed to his back, my arms wrapped around his middle, my cheek resting between his shoulder blades like I was afraid to let the moment slip.
The night had softened around us. The crickets chirped. A distant dog barked. And my heart beat like a drum in my chest. Cruz didn’t move either—not for a long second. Then he exhaled low and deep, like he’d been holding something in the whole ride.
He reached back and touched my knee. “Come on, mi reina,” he said, voice low and gruff, but different now. Warmer. Less armor.
I slid off, legs wobbly from the ride and the weight of everything between us. The porc
