Chase leaned in close, carefully pulling the zipper up to her collarbone before letting go.
He asked casually, "Where's your helmet?"
For some reason, Zoe obediently took out her helmet. He took it from her and carefully put it on for her.
Then, he naturally took Zoe's hand.
"Let's go."
Zoe let him lead her. The motorcycle was right by the main gate. He expertly put on his own helmet, then swung a long leg over the bike with ease and motioned for her to get on.
This wasn't the first time for Zoe. She got on behind him, but this time, she didn't stuff her hands into his pockets.
"Zoe, your hands."
Chase's voice came from inside his helmet, a reminder.
Zoe reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist. The man's waist was solid, like a stone wrapped in soft muscle—firm and narrow.
Chase instantly fell silent.
"I want to hold you like this," Zoe said.
