Izzy held on to Flynn’s narrow waist as they banked right onto the 24 on-ramp.

There was something supremely primal about sitting behind such a strong, virile male as he expertly handled almost a thousand pounds of vibrating steel. This was a first for her.  She’d never been on a motorcycle before.  She’d thought she would be afraid. She was anything but.  She had complete confidence in Flynn’s skill as a driver.  Moments later, as they exited 24 onto Grizzly Peak Boulevard, Izzy threw her hands up in the air and laughed.

For the second time with Flynn, she felt the exaltation of speed, and freedom. Flynn reached back with his left hand and grabbed her behind her left knee, securing his hand there, fortifying her balance.  His gesture tugged at her heart.  It was thoughtful, and protective.

Even if it did violate her no-touching policy, she loved it.

It was instinctual with him, she realized.  Something that just came naturally to him. He protected her with the dedication and ferocity that Turk had.  She felt special.  Safe.

The jealous bone she didn’t know she had, poked at her pride. Was he like this with all of the women he had dated?  She suspected he was.  It was part of his DNA. Not that they were dating, that had been clearly established.  It was too damn bad though, because their ridiculous attraction to each other hadn’t waned. If anything it had grown.  When he’d kissed her earlier, she came oh so close to separating him from his clothes and mounting him. Yeah, it had taken all she had not to make a fool out of herself.

Their kiss had served to remind her how vulnerable she was. When he touched her, her willpower vanished. She needed not to engage with him, hence her condition of not touching her.  She laughed, once again finding sick humor in the fact that she was glued to his ass, arms wrapped around his waist, her legs tucked behind his and his hand riding her thigh.

He squeezed her thigh in acknowledgment of her outburst.  As they began to wind up into the foothills, Flynn released her leg to put both hands on the handlebars.

She relaxed, enjoying the scenery, the brush of the cool air on her face and the feel of Flynn against her.  Each time she thought of Alex, her mom, seeing her father earlier, and what she wished could be with Flynn, she pushed the thoughts from her head.  Instead, Izzy thought of the positives in her life.  She was alive, she was healthy, and she had a plan.  Giving herself permission to push her boundaries, to be afraid but brave, and most of all to just be who she was, excited her.  Izzy didn’t have to hide behind who she thought she should be, but stand proud for who she was now.

She was free!  Free to be whoever she wanted to be.  No boundaries.  Warmth infused her body as she realized what that meant. Unconsciously she tightened her arms around Flynn’s waist, tucking her hands beneath his leather jacket.  Her hands were cold, but his body was warm.

As they wound higher up in the Oakland hills, Izzy looked to her left.  The sun was setting, almost completely obliterated by the thick rolling fog.  Flynn slowed, turned left onto the other side of the road, and stopped at a vista point. In all of the years she had lived in the east bay, Izzy had never been up here.  Sprawling before her was an unobstructed view of the entire bay, all the way to San Francisco, that was engulfed in a huge bank of fog.  Flynn cut the engine, and helped her off.  Hanging his helmet off the right handle bar, she unstrapped her helmet and hung it from the left one.

“My God, this is amazing, Flynn,” she said, walking to the edge of the wall.

He stood behind her, his tall body protectively shadowing hers.  “I come up here to think,” he said.  “It doesn’t matter what time of year, day or night, I’m always able to clear the cobwebs.”

The view was endless.  Awe-inspiring.  The magnificent bay, strong and powerful, deadly even, but like all living things, vulnerable.

Turning around, Izzy looked up at her complicated Special Agent.  His still waters ran very deep. Flynn wasn’t heartless; his heart, she realized, was encased with scar tissue.  If anyone could understand his reluctance to love, it was her. The pain of love lost, of rejection, of longing for something that would never be, ate at a person.  It left deep wounds that festered.  They never healed; instead they slowly became encased in armor. Acknowledging the pain and the reasons for it didn’t make it better.  Neither did accepting it. Acceptance made it worse.  Accepting an unreachable heart meant you were content to exist in a loveless life.  How sad for Flynn.

Izzy didn’t want that life.  She wanted love. Mad, passionate, I’m-on-fire, love. To give it and receive it. She wanted a man who would fight with her and for her.  A man who every time he looked at her saw his moon and stars. A man who wouldn’t back down from her fire, but continuously ignited it because the same fire burned in him.

He stared past her to the horizon, his jaw tight, his eyes slightly squinting.  He hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble on his face more pronounced than it was this morning.  He was all badass male.  Clad in black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket, jet-black hair punctuated by his stunning blue eyes. Izzy’s herculean efforts to remain distant and uninterested in him were in vain.  Flynn Ryker touched her on a basic, primal level.  When his male spoke to her female, there was nothing her sensibilities could do to prevent the inevitable sparks that blazed between them.  He was desperately attracted to her, no matter how hard he fought it, same as her. While Flynn had no problem giving in to the physical aspect of their attraction, he refused to emotionally engage.

Slowly she smiled.  Had he ever been challenged to let go? To drop his walls and take a chance on a relationship?  Izzy bet he’d never given anyone the chance to get to him, much less get to know him.  Well, she had the chance.  She had gotten to him. Had nothing but time with him.

While Flynn might think he wasn’t relationship material, Izzy knew he was. Once he committed, he would be the kind of man who would remain true until the day his woman died.

Emotion swelled in her chest, constricting her airflow.  To be loved so completely by this man was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.  For the first time in Izzy’s life, she wanted something more than to be a Chastain.

She wanted Flynn. She would fight for him.  And she would win.

When Flynn’s gaze dropped to hers, her smile widened.  His eyes narrowed.  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Pink?”

“Hah, wouldn’t you like to know!”

He reached up to touch her, but stopped mid reach.  The breeze buffeted her hair around her face.  Pushing it back, she continued to look up at him.  “What’s your favorite food?”

“Bubble gum.”

Laughing, Izzy swatted him and turned around to gaze at the bay that twinkled below. “Bubble gum isn’t food, Flynn.  It’s candy.”

“Candy can be my favorite food.” Warmth from his breath caressed her ear.  “I like Pink bubble gum the best.”

Shivering because it was cold, not because his words stirred her, Izzy wrapped her arms around herself. Flynn removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders over her jacket. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she stared out at the bay.

“The wind is cold,” he said.  “You should have worn layers.”

Turning, she continued to smile at him. “You know you like me.”

“That’s the problem.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why it was a problem, but she didn’t.  She knew why.  “Let’s get out of here, I’m hungry.” Handing him back his jacket she stepped past him.

As he walked toward his tricked-out, sleek black Harley, he said, “A woman after my own heart.”

Strapping her helmet on, Izzy said, “I know a place on Adeline.”