Love in Slow Motion

57. Reed

57 REED

This is what happiness looks like: putting a helmet on the woman you love in the alley behind the bakery you bought for her. Watching her smile nervously because she’s never been on a bike before and then waiting for her to swing onto the seat behind you. Feeling her small hands circle your torso and fist into the material of your shirt.

“I promise it’s not as scary as it seems,” I tell her before starting the bike and pushing up the kickstand with the heel of my boot. “I would never put you in any danger.”

She presses her chest to my back, and I’m momentarily distracted by the feel of her breasts against me. I need to get her home so I can rip her clothes off and bury myself inside her. Through our helmets, her muffled voice finds me. “Have you ever fucked anyone on this thing?”

My hand slips off the handlebar, and I have to rub the sweat off my palm before I turn my head. She leans to the side so that our eyes can meet through our helmet visors. “No. You want to be the first?”

Behind the windscreen, I see her smile. She nods, and I turn back around and slam the bike forward. Behind me, Quinn squeals and holds on tight.

I could go straight to my new apartment, but then the drive would be over too quickly. I want this to last forever, Quinn holding onto me from behind, her palms flat against my chest. There’s no better feeling than this, and part of me can’t believe it’s real. She told me she loves me. She came here for me. She wants to be with me.

She’s mine.

I rev up the engine, and we fly down the street. She spent the day with me at the bakery, and now that it’s late, the streets aren’t as crowded. This part of Boston isn’t like being downtown, where the crowds swallow everything. This is a quieter corner, and with the sun down and the streetlights turning on, it looks like magic.

I take a few more turns than I need to, taking her away from my apartment before turning around and going back. As soon as we pull into the parking garage, we both whip our helmets off, pushing against the concrete wall before slamming our mouths together.

“Take me upstairs,” she whispers against my mouth. “Now.”

I smile. “Whatever you say, baby.”