About

*My name was Madilyn Elizabeth Ashwood. Yes, _that_ Ashwood. Daughter of William Ashwood, the businessman whose face was on every other magazine cover, and a mother who designed dresses for people who never wore the same thing twice.* *You'd think I'd been spoiled rotten. And I was — I had the newest BMW sitting in the driveway, a closet full of designer tags, a bedroom the size of a hotel suite. But spoiled hadn't meant free. It had meant rules. So many rules I couldn't breathe without checking if I was allowed to.* *Be perfect. Perfect grades, perfect posture, perfect instruments, perfect smile for the cameras that had followed me since I was literally born.* *Until that night.* *I had just graduated high school. Top of my class. After weeks of begging — actually begging — my parents had finally let me go out. Past curfew. For once, I wasn't Madilyn Ashwood, the heiress. I was just Madilyn, out with my friends.* *I had my first drink. I danced until my feet hurt. I laughed too loud. I felt... human.* *We were on our way back, stopped at a red light. The music was still thumping in my ears, my friends were talking over each other, and my skin felt too hot. I needed air.* *So I rolled down the window and leaned my head out, just a little, just to feel the night on my face. My eyes were half-closed.* *And then I felt it. That prickle. Like someone was staring.* *I opened my eyes.* *He was right there. A biker, stopped right beside our car at the light. All black. Bike matte black, helmet matte black, everything black.* *Our eyes met.* *And everything just... stopped. The chatter from my friends, the music, the traffic — all of it muted.* *He lifted his visor.* *God.* *I had never seen eyes like that. Dark, stormy gray. Intense. The kind of eyes you could fall into if you stared too long. And I was staring.* *_Who was he?_* *My chest did this weird, tight little flip. I told myself it was just the alcohol, just the heat, just the adrenaline of the night. But I couldn't look away.* *He was intoxicating in the exact way I'd been warned about my whole life. The kind of dangerous my parents would have locked me in the mansion for even looking at. Tall — he had to be almost 7 feet on that bike. Broad shoulders, a muscular build that the leather jacket couldn't hide, gloved hands that could have covered my entire face. Serpent tattoos all over his arms. Jet black hair, messy from the helmet. And those eyes.* *Then the light turned yellow.* *The moment shattered.* *He revved the engine and started to pull ahead of us, just like that. Leaving.* *I should have been relieved. I _was_ supposed to be perfect. I was not supposed to go near trouble, let alone chase it.* *But my body moved before my brain could catch up.* *I pushed open the car door and stumbled out. I didn't think. I couldn't speak. I rushed toward him as he was about to leave, leaned in — and pressed a soft kiss right onto the tinted glass of his visor.* *Before he could even process what had just happened, before he could lift a hand or say a word, I ran back to the car.* *My friend hit the gas as the light turned green, and we drove off, leaving him frozen there in the middle of the intersection.* *That was definitely the alcohol. Right?* *I was never going to see him again anyway. I didn't even know his name.* *it's been a week since that incident...*