9. Cleo

9

CLEO

W hen I get home from MUEVE, Kray’s still working on his bike. He’s got grease all over his hands, and he wipes them on a dirty rag and stands up when he sees me.

“Is it fixed yet?”

He gives me a lopsided grin that makes my panties melt. “Hop on and we’ll see.”

I bark out a laugh until I realize he’s serious.

“You want me to get on the back of that thing?”

Kray shrugs. “Sure.”

A nervous thrill goes through me. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, and the possibility thrills me. But it’s cold and about to snow, and he’s been fiddling with it all day.

He senses my hesitation and pulls a helmet out of his saddle bag.

“Put this on.”

He holds it out to me, and I take the helmet and turn it over in my hands.

“Is the bike really fixed?”

“Yes,” he reassures me. “It’s not going to fall apart. I’ve just been doing an oil change.”

Kray swings his leg over the bike and pats the back seat.

“Come on, Cleo. I’ll drive safe, I promise.”

Slipping the helmet onto my head, I slide onto the back of the bike.

There’s nowhere to sit but straight up against Kray. Even through his leathers I can feel the warmth radiating from him.

I breathe in deep, taking in the scent of leather and grease. I long to rest my head against his solid back, but he’d probably think I was being clingy.

Kray guns the engine, and the bike vibrates beneath me. A tremor goes through my body, adding to the heady sensations of being this close to Kray.

“Hold onto me,” he calls over the roar of the engine, and I thread my hands around his waist.

As we ride out of the parking lot, Fitzy is standing by the trash, bag in hand. She gives us a wave, a wide grin on her face.

It must match my own.

The bike feels amazing. Wind whips my hair and makes my eyes water. The ground zooms past as I cling onto Kray. It feels like we’re flying, and I feel safe with him in control.

It’s exhilarating, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the bike or because of the man I’ve got my arms around.

We drive out of town and head along the plains to the Black Top Ranges. After about twenty minutes, we start heading upwards into the hills. Kray turns down a dirt track and then comes to a stop at a small parking lot.

I’ve explored some of the trails around the ranges, but this isn’t a place I know.

I slide off the bike and unhook my helmet.

The cold air hits me like tiny pricks of ice against my face. It’s colder up here than in the valley, and I wrap my arms around myself. The icy wind heightens my senses even more, making me feel lightheaded. I pull my gloves off, blowing on my hands to get them warm.

“You ever been up here?” Kray asks.

I shake my head. “Not to this part.”

He smiles. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He takes my hand. It feels so natural, his hand clasped in mine.

We walk along a small trail, which widens to a lookout. My breath catches in my throat. The plains are laid out below us, lines of lights crisscrossing the darkness where the roads are. In the distance is Bourbon, the Christmas lights of the main street sparkling like beacons of hope.

I can see the twinkle of lights coming from houses and Christmas lights lining the streets.

“It’s beautiful.”

Kray leads me over to a flat boulder, and we climb up and take a seat. I dig my hands into my pockets to keep the biting cold away from them.

“Don’t you have gloves?” he asks.

“I left them with the bike.” Which I know was stupid, but I don’t regret it now as Kray takes my hands in his again.

He tucks my icy fingers between his warm palms. The warmth immediately flows into them, but he doesn’t let my hands go.

“Why did you join an MC?” I’ve been dying to ask him, but I didn’t want him to think I gave a fuck. But since I tried to kiss him last night and I’ve got my hands tucked in his, I think he knows I’m interested. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a motorcycle club.”

Kray chuckles softly. “We’re not all outlaws, you know.”

“Aren’t you?”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “It’s not all like what you see on the TV. There are loads of clubs where we just want to ride.”

I’m skeptical. “And yours is like that?”

He regards me carefully, and I get the feeling he’s sizing me up, wondering how much to tell me.

“The Underground Crows are mostly legit, but there’s a few business opportunities that are a gray area.”

It’s a lot to confess to someone he barely knows, and I feel the weight of his trust in me. But I’m not here to judge. I’m just curious.

“Why did you join?”

He looks out at the view, taking a moment to answer.

“After my parents died, Ethan packed a bag and went off traveling. He was the only family I had left. I was into bikes, so I knew some of the guys in the club. I did some work at their bike garage, and they took me on as an apprentice. It wasn’t hard from there to become a prospect. I guess I was looking for a new family, and the club provided that.”

“So, they’re like family to you?”

I can’t keep the wistful note from my voice. I’ve never had a family and this guy’s got two.

“Yeah.” He turns toward me. “They are. My brothers are my family. They’ll always have my back.”

I wonder what that would be like. I’ve never had anyone to have my back.

“That must be nice.”

“Some families you’re born with, and some you choose.”

His hand runs over my chin when he says it, and my heart skips a beat. I want him to choose me. I want to be part of something more than myself.

“I’ve never had either.”

I don’t usually talk about my past, but with Kray I feel like I can open up. I find myself telling him about my alcoholic mom, about being passed around from foster home to foster home.

Kray listens attentively. There’s no pity in his eyes, no judgement. He just lets me talk.

“I never had a family. I’ve never belonged anywhere.”

Kray’s hand brushes my cheek, and he cups my chin. Pinpricks of heat emanate from his touch, making me shiver—in a good way.

“You belong here, Cleo.” He takes my hand and presses it to his heart. “You belong with me.”

My breath catches at his words, and my heart thumps in my chest. No one’s ever given me a place to belong. But he can’t know how serious those words are to me.

It’s the kind of thing guys say to girls all the time. I doubt he means it the way I need him to mean it.

But for a few moments, it’s nice to pretend.

Kray’s face is so close to mine I can smell grease and soap. I can see the different shades of darkness in his eyes, the golden flecks around the iris and the deep chocolate of the outside.

Then he’s kissing me, his firm lips making my cold lips sing. Warm energy flows through me, and for a moment, I believe Kray’s right. I do belong. Right here, in this moment.

Kray’s hand slides around my head, tangling in my hair and deepening the kiss.

Our tongues collide, and I slide closer to him on the boulder. I want to be close to him. I want this. My body wants this.

A cold, icy spike hits my face. Then another.

I pull away quickly as thick snowflakes hit my cheeks.

“It’s snowing.”

I tilt my head to the sky, to the gray cloud that has finally opened. Snowflakes float down around us.

I’ve never seen it snow in Texas before.

My smile widens as Kray takes my hand. We sit in silence, watching the thick flakes fall over Bourbon. Until it gets too cold and not even the heat of Kray’s body pressed next to me can stop the shivering.

We climb on the bike and ride home as the snow comes in flurries around us. This time I rest my head against Kray’s back, not caring what he thinks of me. I’m hungry for his warmth as we ride home.