Chapter 78 Midnight Motorcycle Ride
Malia's POV
The house was quiet past midnight, just the faint shushing of the waves and the occasional popping noise of wood settling. I’m half-asleep and curled up on Aiden’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek when his lips press against my temple.
“Malia,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with sleep but his mind already awake. “Wake up.”
I nonchalantly blink as my eyes adjust to the moonlight coming in from the multi-panel door. He is already sitting up, shirtless, illuminated by the moonlight, forming shadows on his shoulders.
“What time is it?” I rub my eyes and mumble.
“Late enough.” He gives a grin—fast, impish, one of those smiles that usually means trouble. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
I hoist myself up, the sheets crumpling in a pool about my waist. “Now?”
“Now.” He leans in and kisses me once – sweetly, lovingly – then slips out of bed and throws on some black jeans and a dark zip up. “Trust me.”
I do. Always.
We tread quietly past closed doors—soft snores from July and Freddy bubble through from one, Rowan’s silence from another, Cian’s even breathing from the last. No one turns over.
Aiden opened the side door leading into the garage under the deck. Beneath a single hanging bulb, a sleek black motorcycle — low, mean, with chrome catching the light as if it were liquid silver — sits inside.
I stop short. “You have a bike here?”
“That was my birthday present when I was eighteen,” he says, running his hand along the handlebars. “Haven’t been on it for a long time. Figured tonight’s the night.”
He grabs two helmets from a shelf: a matte black one and a smaller one, obviously for someone else. He gives me the smaller one.
I raise an eyebrow. “You planned this.”
“Maybe.” He approaches, with delicate fingers he closes the strap beneath my chin and kisses the tip of my nose. “Ready?”
My heart is pounding already. “Yeah.”
He swings a leg over the bike, settles, then pats the seat behind him. I get on, my thighs squeezing his hips, my arms locked around his waist. The engine rumbles to life — low, throaty, vibrating through us both. He twists the throttle once, testing, and the sound bounces off the garage walls.
“Hold on,” he says over his shoulder.
I press my cheek to his back. “Always.”
He gently nudges us out onto the narrow path that encircles the island. Moonlight makes everything silver—palm fronds, white sand, the dark curve of the ocean. At first the bike growls quietly, then louder, as the path opens up into a winding track among the woods. Wind whips past us, cool and salty, pulling at my hoodie and tangling my hair under the helmet.
I grip a little tighter, my fingers are spread across his stomach and I can feel the muscles flexing beneath the fabric with every turn he takes. The island feels alive at night--leaves rustling, waves crashing in the distance, the occasional call of a night bird. Freedom rushes through me, sharp and bright. No campus. No rules. It’s us and the road and the moon.
Aiden just flies around the turns with such effortless confidence, only slowing when the trail rises toward the top of the island. He pulls off onto a little overlook – a flat rock wedging out over the water, star and sea before us.
He kills the engine. Silence rushes in, to be broken only by the lapping waves far below.
We get off. He places both helmets on the seat and then pulls me close, warm hands at my waist.
“Worth waking up for?” he asks softly.
I tip my head back to look at him. Moonlight gleams in his eyes, making them nearly silver. “Definitely.”
He kisses me—slow at first, lips brushing mine as if he’s savoring every second. Now deeper, on the edge of hunger, his one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck while the other is pressing me flush against him. I am on my toes, arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers weaving through his hair. The kiss tastes like night air and salt and him—raw, endless.
We part, our breath ragged and he rests the forehead against mine.
“Tell me something,” he says, voice low.
“Again?” I laugh
"Yeah.” His thumb stroking my jaw.“Something about the future. Us.”
I swallow. “I want mornings like this. Whisper ones. When we don’t have to hurry off anywhere. It’s just coffee and the sun and you.”
He smiles—small, real. I want that, too. And nights. Like tonight. Stealing moments. Riding under the moon. Watch you laugh with July and Freddy. Watching Rowan relax. Hearing Cian actually talk.”
I feel a tightness in my chest. Do you think about that?”
“All the time.” He pushes hair from my face. “I want the bond to be like this—easy. It's not a fight. Not like something we have to decide between.”
He kisses me again — fiercer this time. His hands glide under the hoodie, warm palms on my bare back. I press closer, I want more, I want him.
He snaps me up suddenly, effortless, and places me on the bike seat so I’m facing him. My legs spread of their own accord; he steps between them, his hands on my thighs.
The kiss becomes so urgent, mouths opening, tongues moving, little noises that are drowned out by the night. I pull off his hoodie, he aids me in pulling it off, then he pulls my own over my head as well. The cool air kisses my skin, but his mouth is there on me right away—dry kissing down my neck, up to my collarbone, further down. I lean into him, my fingers gripping his shoulders.
“Aiden,” I breathe.
He moans against my skin. “Say my name again.”
“Aiden.” He raises me higher, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
The bike groans under us. His hands wander—possessory, reverent, possessorial, reverend—my sides, the cups of my breasts, the sides of my breasts, thumbs migrating over the sensitive tips till I exhale. I grind against him, sensing how hard he is under his jeans, the friction illumining a heat deep in my belly.
He claims my lips again—deep, claiming kissing—then pulls back just enough to see me. Moonlight bathes his face in silver and darkness, eyes black with want.
“I love you,” he says, raw and still. “More than anything.”
My heart stutters. “I love you too.”
He gives me one more slow, slow, endless—kiss before lifting me off the bike and setting me gently down on my feet. We’re standing there, breathing hard, foreheads touching, hearts pounding in unison.
“Home?” he inquires, his voice hoarse.
I nod. “Home.”
He puts me back in the hoodie, kisses my temple and then gets on the bike. I sit behind hi, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, cheek to his back.
The engine roars to life again. We're traveling back more slowly this time -- wind still rushing past us, but the urgency has melted into something more mellow, more profound. His stomach is pressed to my palms as I hold them against his stomach, feeling every breath he breathes.
When we get to the garage, he switches off the engine and we pause in the sudden silence. He wheels around, pulls me up onto his lap right there on the bike, and kisses me again—lazy, lingering, full of promises.
“Greatest secret adventure ever,” I whisper on his lips.
He smiles. “First of many.”
We sneak back inside, hand in hand, our hearts still pounding from our little adventure and I wanted more.