she was weak when it came to Steele. He was in every dream. Every waking thought. Zane had his eyes and his smile. He was already showing bits of his personality. Steele said he needed her. Breezy knew herself very well, and she needed to be needed. It was that simple. She wanted to make a difference in someone’s life. She thought she had to Steele.
“Don’t, baby,” Steele whispered, cupping her chin in his palm. He brought her head up, so she was forced to look into his eyes. “Don’t think about anything but the two of us getting our son back. That’s our first priority. We can do that. We’re a good team. We always were, and I know you remember that. Let’s get him back and sort out the rest later.”
She could drown in his eyes. That deep, deep, dark blue. So blue one could get lost there. She nodded mutely because Zane was the only thing that mattered. She’d die if she had to in order to get him to safety. She’d do anything to get him back.
Steele bent slightly to brush a kiss over the top of her head. She had thick hair. Very thick. It didn’t matter. She felt that kiss, that soft touch, all the way down to her toes. She told herself she had no business feeling anything but stark terror. For the first time in three years, since the last time she’d been in Steele’s presence, she remembered what it was like to feel feminine. Like a woman. It was the last thing she wanted or needed.
He caught her hand, led her to his bike and swung his leg over in the casual way he had, the one that she’d always thought was so cool. “Use the helmet, Bree.”
It was her helmet. He’d bought it for her. She hesitated, wondering how many other women had used it. She hated feeling jealous, even just a momentary flash. She didn’t want to be that woman. She should be a decent ex, after all they shared a son.
“Haven’t had another woman on my bike, sweetheart. It’s never going to happen. That’s your place. Put the helmet on and let’s go. The sooner we hash out how to find him, the faster we get him back.”
His voice caught at her. She wished she could see his face as she pulled the helmet over her head and tucked in her hair. He caught her hand, put it on his shoulder and waited. She slid in behind him, closing her eyes when her bottom settled on the seat. It felt natural. Right. Like she belonged.
Steele’s body was warm. Too warm. They were surrounded by cool air—fog coming off the ocean—but it didn’t matter. The moment she settled behind him, heat was there, warming her as nothing else could. She didn’t know where to put her hands. She’d always wrapped her arms around him and gotten as close as possible. Now, she was afraid to do that. Afraid it would be too much, and she’d never recover.
Steele reached for her hands and brought them around him. “Hold on, babe. Tight. I’ve lost my son, I’m not chancing losing you. We’re going to get him back.”
That was firm. She laid her cheek against his back, allowing her body to settle against his. That was a mistake. Her body knew his. It knew his bike. The moment he started down the road, the others riding around them, the sound of the pipes, the wind tearing at her body, his heat, the feel of his finger stroking the back of her hand, was all too much. Her body melted into his of its own accord.
Breezy had forgotten what it was like riding in the wind. Riding in a pack. Feeling freedom. She had ridden with Steele when he was pretending to be a member of the Swords, but each time they’d gone out, these very men had surrounded him. They’d been wearing Swords colors, but they had been there to protect Steele. She knew that now. Even then.
She made herself look at the world, the ocean going by, whitecaps high, waves splashing against cliffs. Trees and sometimes homes. The fog touched them, a dense mist that rose like a darker cloud from the great expanse of water much farther out and traveled like a reaching hand with fingers outstretched. A little shiver went through her and she pressed closer to Steele. Immediately his hand dropped down to cover hers.