remembering my needy message that he hadn't replied to. "Moment of weakness," I muttered in reply, hurrying to finish dressing. He'd chosen dark jeans and a long sleeve black top for me, along with my leather jacket and boots. "I shouldn't have gone all girly like that on you."
He huffed a sound of disagreement. "Bullshit, Red. For one thing, I love when you go girly on me. For another, you wouldn't have done it unless you were in a vulnerable place. So, I'm here. But we don't have long, so hurry up."
Curiosity radiated through me, and I yanked my boots on quickly. The display on my phone told me I'd only been asleep for a few hours, but I was more than awake and excited to see what Cass had up his sneaky sleeve.
He wrapped his hand around mine to pull me out of the bedroom and laid a finger across his lips to tell me to be silent. We hurried downstairs, and I checked out his ass in the black leather pants he wore—sexy as hell, motorcycle pants but unlike anything I'd seen on Cassiel Saint before.
It wasn't until we reached the garage that it clicked why they seemed familiar. "Cass," I whispered, squeezing his gloved hand. "Did you borrow Zed's motorcycle leathers?"
He just tossed a sly smile over his shoulder at me and continued through the dark garage to where my cherry-red Ducati was parked. "Damn right I did," he replied, grabbing my red helmet and passing it to me. "They're a bit snug around the crotch, though. Zed must have a pencil dick to fit these comfortably." He grabbed his junk in demonstration, and I bit my lip to hide my grin. It sure looked like he filled them out perfectly.
Cass headed over to one of Zed's street bikes, an all-black Kawasaki Ninja, and pulled one of Zed's black helmets on before straddling the bike. Decked out in Zed's leathers and helmet and riding his bike... no one would suspect this was Cassiel Saint and not Zayden De Rosa.
"I see you, Saint," I said with a laugh, pulling my own helmet on and swinging my leg over the sexy red Ducati that Cass had given me. "Smart man," I murmured inside my helmet.
He gave me a silent nod, then started his engine and led the way out of the garage. We took it easy down the driveway and out the front gate, then by some unspoken agreement, we hit the gas.
It didn't take long to work out what Cass's objective was. Within minutes my heart was racing with exhilaration and my smile was achingly wide under my helmet. He’d seen my message for exactly what it was: a cry for help. So he was helping by reminding me how strong I was. How in control. A high-speed bike race through the early hours of the morning was the perfect way to do that, too.
Not to mention the fact that he showed up just to do this for me reminded me that he would quite literally drop everything for me. All I needed to do was ask, and he would be there. Because he loved me—something I’d never thought would apply to Cass and me, yet here we were.
We both slowed to a stop at a red light on the outskirts of Shadow Grove’s downtown, and I looked over at him. Fucking hell, if I didn't know any better, I'd have been totally fooled into thinking it was Zed beside me. Cass was an inch or two taller and slightly broader across the chest, but when he was head to toe in leather to hide all identifying features, it was a solid disguise.
He revved his engine, tilting his head up at me in challenge. I snorted a laugh and settled myself, ready to take off the second the light changed. Cass wanted a race? He'd damn well get one.
I watched the lights for the road perpendicular to ours, waiting for their light to change, which gave me a split-second head start when ours turned green.
My Ducati took off like a shot out of a gun, roaring down the street fast enough to turn the streetlights into colorful streaks in my vision. Cass was right on my tail, though, keeping the pressure turned up and making me laugh out loud as we slowed down for the next red light we hit.
We waited in comfortable silence, the empty streets of Shadow Grove feeling a whole lot like our personal playground