This is insanity. My life is full of enough drama without adding a hot biker to the mix. Only, every single moment he’s in proximity, my entire body comes alive like never before.
He doesn’t say much in the way of holding conversations with me. But somehow he seems to just get me. Where his brother texts Emmalee all the time, I never hear from Colt. The intensity in the way he looks at me, though, that is everything.
I’ve always watched people and loved when you could see a couple truly in love. I want a man to look at me with a gaze that anyone can read as admiration, desire, care, and lust. The way Colton looks at me, I feel all of those things.
Taking me by the hand, he leads me outside to his motorcycle. For a moment, I contemplate offering to take a ride in my car. In the end, I don’t because he asked me to be bold. I don’t know why, but that sentence sticks with me. People always say be brave and face your fears, or be confident. To be bold is to be fearless and confident and maybe even a little insane. Riding on a motorcycle with a man I don’t really know but I find myself pulled too … well that is a bold choice to make. So I decide I only have one life to live, and I’ll be bold in choosing him. I watch in avid fascination as he goes to his saddle bag and pulls out a leather jacket.
“Put this on. Your sweater won’t be enough.”
The coat is heavy as I lift it. As it swallows me whole, it reminds me how much larger than me the man is. I don’t find it something to fear but rather I find comfort in it. Colt steps over to his brother’s van. Sliding the jacket on, I wonder what he’s looking for when he returns to me with a hair-tie. Without a word, he shifts me to have my back to him where he pulls my hair back off my shoulders. I purposely did two small braids to keep my bangs that are growing out and are currently past my chin out of the way, but the rest of my hair I kept down. His hands work to braid the rest of my hair delicately, and I close my eyes to the feel.
I’ve always loved when anyone plays with my hair, now is no different, except I’m simply surprised by the action. Colt is this man who stands tall and proud. He is intimidated at first glance, but every encounter we have shared, he’s been delicate in his touch with me. The surprise in how he touches me, caresses me, handles me in general surprises me. The old saying about assuming makes an ass of you and me seems to be true here. I assumed he would be rude, rough, and crass. While he can be, there is definitely more to the man behind me.
“Let me take care of you tonight,” he says with this scratch in his voice that makes me wonder what all does ‘take care of me’ entail, really.
He reaches in his saddlebag a second time, pulling out a small helmet. It doesn’t cover my face, and I feel like it barely covers my head as he puts it on me and begins to adjust the chin strap. I stand in place as he gets his own helmet on and mounts the bike. Just like the helmet on my head, his seems small. Like it fits, but our face is exposed. I guess I always thought everyone rode with those helmets like the race-car drivers, the kind that covers your entire face. There is a thrill and a whole bunch of butterflies at the thought of feeling the wind on my face so freely.
“Hop on,” he orders like this should be second nature.
I look to my shoes and decide heels were a bad idea. As I lift my head to look back at him, I see the passion and amusement in his gaze. What I wouldn’t give to be in his head right now. He extends a hand to me, and I put my hand in his.
“Swing your leg over, slide your ass on the seat, then prop your feet on the back pegs. I got you, I won’t let you fall.” His eyes lock fiercely to mine. “I’ll never let you fall, Diem.”
What the hell? Just him saying it makes me fall … fall for him. This is absurd. I have never been like this over a guy. I need to reel myself in.
I hesitate briefly before I finally swallow my nerves. Ungracefully, I manage to climb on and settle behind him.
Before we move, he takes my hands and pulls them forward. The momentum pushes my body against him. With my front pressed to his back and my inner thighs firmly against the outside of his legs, he lays my hands on his stomach, wrapping me around him in a way I find comfort in.
He cranks the bike and twists the throttle, sending this vibration straight through my body. The noise of the engine is loud with a tick. Why this stands out to me I don’t know, but it does. The sound of the exhaust doesn’t hurt my ears like I thought it would, but rather, I find it to be soothing to something deep inside me. I jolt in surprise as he reaches down and gives my thigh a squeeze. Rolling us backward, he puts the bike in motion, leaving me with only one thing to do …
Hold on and enjoy the ride.
Every twist of the throttle sends a vibration right to my core. With the way the last few days have unfolded, I want nothing more than to forget who I am, where I am, and what is going on. So, as he makes the right onto the highway, taking us to Salter Path and Atlantic Beach, I just lean into him and inhale the salt in the air.
Even with the winter chill, I relish the feel of everything around me. The hard body in front of me, the connection to the man and the machine moves us gracefully down the road.
I have never felt so free before in my life.
Closing my eyes, I take in every sensation.
Everything feels so much more intense like this. The vulnerability of being exposed without the shell of a car to keep me safe has every nerve in my body alive.
I could get used to this. We don’t speak. I don’t know that he could hear me unless I yelled. Plus, what is there to say? I’m pretty sure my parents are going to get a divorce. I keep having these crazy dreams that stick with me like never before. I have feelings for a biker I slept with in a club, even though he’s not my type, and while I don’t know much about him, I don’t think I’m his type either. Yet in some crazy twist of fate, here I am on the back of his bike and truly having the time of my life. Even with the chaos swirling in my mind, I have this calm while I’m with him.
When his left hand drops to rest on my leg, I squeeze him a little tighter. This is the most intimate thing I have ever experienced in my life. It’s intense, but in a way that feels right. Time keeps going as the miles pass under us and he takes us through the beaches. We take the long way around through Morehead City before coming back into Haywood’s Landing. We ride, and I swear my legs feel like jelly before he pulls off Highway Fifty-eight to a small house in front of an abandoned church.
He stops the bike behind the house, and I wonder whose it is. He pats my leg twice before holding his hand out. “Hop off, I wanna share something with you.”
Excitement fills me.
With my hand in his, I put my left leg on the ground and begin the process of trying to swing my right leg over. Only, as I make the movement, I knee Colt in the back. Thankfully, he doesn’t say a word as the embarrassment fills me. A thought hits me, one I’m uncomfortable with. How many women have been on the back of his bike just like this? Shaking my head, I focus on staying in the moment.
Once I’m off the bike and on solid ground, I take a minute to compose myself. My entire body feels liquid. I don’t dislike the experience, I’m just unsure of myself as I take in the entirety of it. Everything I couldn’t shut off in my mind ceased to exist while riding with Colt. No wonder he chooses to ride a motorcycle even when it’s forty degrees outside. There is a freedom from the world, an escape from everything that is beyond words.
He climbs off, removing his helmet and hanging it on the handlebar before reaching out to me and undoing my chin strap. After pulling the helmet off, he cups my chin and uses his thumbs to massage where the strap just came from. He continues to run his hands over my cheeks warming the cold skin. I soften under his attention.
“Diem Reigns, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I feel my cheeks heat at his praise. “You’re not bad on the eyes either.”
He laughs. “I’m a biker. I’m not meant to be easy on the eyes.”
With that, he takes me by the hand and leads me up the back porch and into the small house. We step inside, and he flips on a switch. He helps me take off the leather jacket and tosses it to the chair in front of us.
The kitchen is right inside the back door. The hardwood floors look new, and everything seems updated. Navy blue cabinets line the bottom with a bright white, maybe quartz, countertop. The brass cabinet pulls pop with the black appliances and open shelving on the walls. There is a small round kitchen table in a matching navy to the cabinets, and chairs with beige cushions.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks, releasing my hand and moving to the fridge where he grabs a water for himself.
I nod feeling a little parched as I am coming back to my senses.
“Don’t spend much time here, so I got water,” he explains, handing me a bottle.
Interesting. I don’t know why, but I expected copious amounts of alcohol for a bachelor pad.
“Do you not stay here?” I ask because I’m generally confused. If this is his house, why did he say he doesn’t spend time here?
“Wes and I live together. It works better, but neither of us wanted this place torn down, so when the church came up for sale, we bought it.”
I raise my eyebrow. “I’m not sure I expected a Hellion to buy a church.”
He lets out a laugh and I swear it’s the nicest sound I’ve heard in forever. “Our grandmother used to live here a long time ago, but she decided to move to a retirement home before she passed away a few years ago, so now it’s just a place I come to from time to time to clear my head.”
I nod truly understanding. “I wish I had a place to clear my head,” I mutter not thinking about what I’m giving away. I’m always under my father’s thumb. He knows where I am, even if I don’t tell him. He’s had my phone set up where he can track me since I was a teenager. Something about that while it can be comforting it also leaves me feeling trapped.
“You’re welcome here anytime you need to unwind. Backdoor stays unlocked.”
I don’t know why this makes me smile, but it does. “You don’t even know me, why let me have access to your house?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “This isn’t my house. This is home. For anyone who ever needs a place to feel like they belong.”
I raise my eyebrows confused. He just said he bought this place with his brother. They don’t live here regularly. How is this not his house and how is it home?
Colt takes my hand and leads me to the living room where the walls are done with a texture almost like sand. As he turns the lights on, different parts sparkle as if being illuminated by the sun. The pictures on the wall are of the beach, and the end tables are done in pier pilings with rope around them and glass tops. The navy blue couch is the only dark thing in the room. The anchor etched into the glass on the coffee table is mind-blowing. The room has this coastal feel, but it’s more than that. The space is inviting. It’s not overly masculine or feminine. It’s understated comfort.
He sits on the couch and pulls me down in a way where I’m draped over him as he extends his legs to lay stretched out on the sofa.
“This is home,” he repeats, but I still don’t understand.
I lay my head on his chest.
Comfort.
Safety.
Freedom.
I find warmth in him as he begins to casually run his hand up and down my back over my sweater. Suddenly, that warmth, that feeling of home begins to build inside of me.
“Did you grow up here?” he asks, and I nod. “Always in that house?”
“No, we used to live in the Outer Banks,” I reply. “When I was little, like three or four, our house burned down. Electric fire. That’s when we moved to Emerald Isle. I’ve always been in the area, though, never lived anywhere else.”
“I see,” he states and hearing him speak with my head on his chest is this new feeling that I find I really like. “When you think of home, you think of your bed, your house. When I think of home, this is what I feel.”
I still don’t understand exactly what he’s saying, but the comfort I find here in this moment truly eases the troubles as of late. I find myself fascinated as I listen to the steady beat of his heart through his shirt.
“Wes and I didn’t have a good start in life, Diem. Our dad—our biological dad—was a monster. Shit was bad. We didn’t have a home until we came here. This was the first place where I could lay on a couch and breathe. This house was the first place I could close my eyes at night and actually sleep without the fear of waking up to him on a rampage.”
I can’t imagine his pain as a child. I have always known I was blessed to live the life I live, but something about the way Colt speaks pulls at me to be grateful not to have had his experiences.
“This house became home and changed our lives. From the first night we stayed here until even now, this place is my safe place.”
I sit up and look at him. “Thank you for sharing it with me,” I whisper, licking my lips and feeling every bit of what he’s saying.
His childhood wasn’t safe until he found home. This is home.
I lay my head back on his chest, and a soothing calm washes over me.
This is home.