Ready to Fall by Olivia Dade

pull her close again. “No problem.”
    But every cell in his body was screaming the same message: This is more than a problem. This is a catastrophe.
    * * *
    Almost two hours later, he’d discovered a valuable lesson: Even intractable lust could be successfully tamped down by a combination of extreme heat and extreme frustration.
    He ran a rough hand through his shaggy hair, drawing on the dregs of his patience. “Sarah,” he said firmly, “you have the basics down. But you have to be willing to try riding without me holding on to the back of the bike.”
    â€œBut you’re the one holding me steady.” Her mouth compressed into a mulish line. “If you let go, I’m going to become a Sarah pancake on the ground. The bad news—I’ll be dead. The good news—I’ll make my own syrup. And by syrup, I mean blood.”
    She stood straddling the bike frame, both feet on the pavement of the parking lot. Her cheeks had long ago pinkened from the muggy summer air, and her wide eyes looked wary. His urge to kiss her battled with his urge to shake her.
    He tried to explain it the best way he knew how. “If you want to ride, you have to take the chance you might fall. That’s just the way it is. No risk, no reward.”
    â€œI’m scared.” She meant it. The truth showed in those beautiful eyes, and every rapid breath she took revealed it too.
    At the sight of her distress, he couldn’t keep his distance any longer. Reaching out, he cradled her hot cheeks in his hands, trying to think of an argument that might reach through her fear. “I know. But just remember what you said to me yesterday. You’re doing this for the possibility of love, right? Isn’t he worth it?”
    She looked up at him, and her hands covered his. “I hope so.”
    The touch of her fingers burned him. He dropped his hands from her face, and hers returned to her handlebars.
    â€œThen let’s do this.” He did his best to sound confident. “Time to take the chance.”
    He watched her take a deep breath and straighten her shoulders. She placed her feet on the pedals, and he had to stop himself from reaching for the back of the bike and ensuring her safety. Every instinct he had said not to let her go.
    She can handle it , he told himself. She doesn’t need you anymore .
    With a strong push of her feet on the pedals, the bike started moving across the parking lot. For the first few seconds, she overcorrected for every wobble and almost tipped over. But each time he thought she was about to put down a foot or hit the deck, she managed to regain her balance. After twenty or so feet, she was actually riding in a pretty straight line.
    Her laughter trailed behind her, and he smiled at the sound. Pride for her blossomed in his chest, driving out the ache that had settled there last night.
    â€œChris!” She was still laughing, still riding. “Do you see this? No Sarah pancake!”
    â€œI see it!” he called back. “You’re doing great. Now make a big circle and come back this way.”
    She made a slow loop around the parking lot and headed toward him. “I wouldn’t stand directly in my path,” she told him breathlessly as she got near. “My steering isn’t exactly precise, and I may forget how to brake. Even giant mutant men can get hurt by a runaway bicycle.”
    His smile widening, he lowered his voice to a near grunt. “Me giant mutant man. Me trust tiny shrimp woman to use brakes.”
    He watched her feet. A foot or two before she would have hit him, she pedaled backward and stopped the bike. Her feet came down on either side of the frame, and she stood very still for a moment. So did he.
    â€œChris . . .” She was breathless. With exertion? Excitement? Something else?
    His eyes rose to hers. “Yes, Sarah?”
    â€œI know how to ride a bike,” she said with a big grin.
    And with no