Chapter 3

ETHAN

I've just about finished repairing my bike when a figure comes into view, running along the deserted road toward me. She looks out of place in the tranquil countryside.

I can't shift my gaze away from her. The tight leggings she's wearing hug her curvy thighs, and the equally close-fitting, sleeveless top displays her toned arms and pert breasts. Her skin is alabaster white, flawless, and without a mark of ink visible. Her long blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail and swings with every step.

"Hey there," I call out, trying to sound friendly and non-threatening. "Are you okay? It seems quite isolated around here. "

She hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering over my tattoos and the leather biker jacket slung over my saddle. I can see the wariness in her eyes, the uncertainty of whether to trust me or not.

"I-I'm fine. T-Thank you," she stutters, her voice barely above a whisper, as she approaches cautiously and stops a few feet away from me. Her skin is shimmering with a fine layer of perspiration. "I'm just out for a run."

I raise an eyebrow. "A run, huh? Seems like an odd place to choose."

She shrugs, a nervous smile playing on her lips.

"I live nearby and needed to clear my head."

I nod in understanding, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not a serial killer or anything of that kind. Name's Ethan, by the way."

Her eyes widen in surprise, as if she hadn't expected me to be so pleasant... so human.

"Emily," she replies, her voice soft but steady. "Nice to meet you, Ethan."

We stand there in awkward silence for a moment. The sounds of sheep bleating in the fields and birds singing their daily chorus fill the air as we size each other up.

Leaning back against my bike, feet crossed at the ankle, I continue, "Surely, there can't be much to cause you stress around here, Emily. It's so beautiful."

"Even in the midst of beauty there's always chaos. At least, where I'm concerned." She motions with her hand toward a small stream running beside the road and then to a beautiful woodland area nearby. "The water from that stream comes from Derwent Dam. It's where they tested the bouncing bombs in the Second World War. If you were to speak to some of the old residents around here, I'm sure they'd tell you the Dales weren't so beautiful or peaceful back then."

"I didn't know that. You learn something new every day. Why do you think chaos chases you around?" I inquire as Emily starts to jog on the spot, presumably to keep herself warm.

"Life, I guess." She shrugs, and I don't ask anymore.

Instead, I watch as she eyes my bike with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, and I can't help but feel a sense of pride as she admires it.

"You ever been on a motorcycle before, Emily?" I ask, gesturing toward the sleek machine beside me.

She shakes her head, her expression cautious but intrigued.

"No, I can't say I have. It looks dangerous. How do you keep it upright?"

"Years of practice and knowledge," I tell her with a mischievous glint in my eye.

I'm used to women being drawn to me and the danger I represent, but with every small step she takes closer, I feel an increasing pull I've never felt with a woman before.

"How about I give you a ride?" I offer. "It'll be an experience you won't forget anytime soon."

For a brief moment, she hesitates, uncertainty written across her features. But then, to my surprise, a hint of excitement sparks in her eyes and she slowly nods yes.

"Okay, sure," she says with a smile. "Why not."

With a smirk, I place my jacket over her shoulders, and she pushes her arms into the sleeves. It swamps her, but it's better protection than riding pillion in the skimpy top she's wearing. I carry a spare helmet in the trunk of my bike, and I hand that to her as well. She puts it on, and I adjust the straps so it's a tight fit.

The entire time we don't speak, but her eyes look wary as she's watches me. I can see she's terrified, but something tells me she won't give up the chance to experience this ride.

I can't help but wonder what she's running away from. She's young and dressed, head to toe, in designer sportswear. She's not poor, that much is obvious. I place my own helmet back on and swing my leg over the bike, then offering her my hand, I help her climb on behind me.

As she wraps her arms around my waist, I feel a surge of excitement coursing through my veins at the warmth of her body against mine. There's something exhilarating about having this beautiful stranger pressed against me. Her trust in me is implicit.

"Hold on tight," I tell her as I start my engine, and we head off higher into the Dales.