Phoenix:
The door clicked behind me, echoing too loud in the silence of my apartment. The moment it closed, everything changed. The warmth, the rush, the ache I didn’t know I’d missed—all of it drained out of me like someone had pulled the plug.
I leaned back against the door, eyes shut, chest rising and falling like I’d run ten miles. I could still feel him. Ryder. His arms solid around the throttle. The steady thrum of the Indian motorcycle between my legs. My hands on his stomach, my cheek against his back. I was wrapped in his warmth like it had always belonged to me.
And that’s what scared the hell out of me.
I shoved off the door and marched toward the kitchen. No lights. I didn’t need to see. I knew this place by heart—how it was always quiet, always still. My place. My rules. M
