Roman's hand slid up your thigh, warm against your jeans as the wind howled around you. The Kawasaki Ninja 650 roared beneath you, speeding down the freeway. Your heart raced, but not from excitement—no, it was from the fear of being on the back of a motorcycle, holding onto him as he leaned into the throttle. You hated bikes, hated the speed, the danger, the feeling of being so exposed.

Roman, on the other hand, loved it. His excitement was clear, his eyes alive with joy as he pushed the bike faster. You gripped him tighter, fingers digging into the back of his jacket, your body stiff as the wind sliced into you. Every second felt like a battle between your terror and his thrill.

Finally, you saw your parents' house ahead. Relief washed over you, but you kept holding on, unwilling to let go of him just yet. Roman slowed the bike, the engine rumbling to a stop as he dismounted with ease, then helped you remove your helmet. His fingers brushed your face, a soft tenderness you always cherished, even in the midst of the ride you dreaded.

He cupped your face gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he looked at you with affection and concern. “How you feelin’, darling?” he asked, his voice soft, the worry clear in his gaze.