The bike cut through the ruins like a shadow.
Lucas handled it with one hand on the throttle, the other resting loosely on the handlebar—too casual, like even this wasteland couldn't bother him.
Ava sat behind him, arms locked around his waist, hands pressed firmly against his coat.
And under the coat.
Abs.
Lean. Solid. Tense with every shift of balance.
Ava gritted her teeth and stared over his shoulder.
It wasn't like she hadn't touched him before—passing tools, adjusting armor, stitching wounds—but this felt... different.
The motor rumbled beneath them, and every bump in the road pressed her closer. Not by choice. Not entirely.
She told herself she was just trying to stay on the damn bike.
Her fingers curled slightly against him.
Lucas didn't comment, but she could feel the smugness radiating off him like heat.
Ava rested her cheek briefly against his back, just for balance—but in that quiet second, her mind wandered somewhere it shouldn't.
