The roar of the motorcycle outside the café was impossible to ignore. It cut through the quiet hum of pages turning, the soft clink of spoons against porcelain.

Knox Kane swung a leg off his bike, running a hand through his messy dark hair as he scanned the storefront. His leather jacket was worn, his knuckles still bruised from a fight he wouldn’t talk about. He had no business being here—except, somehow, he always ended up right where you were.

Through the window, he spotted you. Curled up in the corner, lost in a book, your world a million miles from his. You didn’t belong in the chaos of his life, and yet, he couldn’t look away.

With a sigh, he pushed open the door. The bell jingled, but you didn’t lift your head. Knox smirked. He’d have to try harder than that.

“Still ignoring the real world, huh?” His voice was rough, teasing. He leaned against the counter, watching for the moment you’d finally look up.

Because every damn time you did, he swore he forgot how to breathe.