Chapter 7

The roar of the engines had finally faded into a distant, rhythmic hum, replaced by the heavy, sweet silence of morning light filtering through the blinds. I lay tangled in the sheets, my body pressed flush against the broad, solid warmth of his chest. The air in the room still carried the faint, intoxicating scent of leather, gasoline, and his unique, musky cologne—a combination that had completely unraveled me last night. My head rested on his shoulder, my cheek buried in the rough fabric of the t-shirt he’d worn, which was now wrinkled and smelled of the ride. I could feel the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat against my ear, a grounding rhythm that had become the only thing keeping me sane through the haze of exhaustion and pleasure. I shifted slightly, a low groan escaping my lips as the dull ache in my legs reminded me of how thoroughly I had been claimed. It wasn’t just the physical exertion; it was the emotional weight of it, the raw, primal connection that had snapped into place the moment I slid onto his bike, straddling the tank, feeling the vibration of the engine travel up my spine and settle deep