By the time the bike slowed and turned into a shadowy side street, her heart was lodged in her throat.

They pulled up in front of a brick building tucked between a row of warehouses. Not polished, not clean—but there was something raw about it. A single dim light glowed over the doorway, and his bike slid into the space like it belonged.

He cut the engine, silence rushing in.

She exhaled shakily. “This is… your place?”

“Home sweet home,” he said, smirking as he pulled off ...