Excerpt of Lost Girls by Merrie Destefano

His Harley was parked at the curb, in a pocket of shadow,
blocked from the streetlight and behind one of the flowering
trees Dad had planted earlier this year. Dylan started to
hand me a helmet, but stopped, as if there was something
else more important.

"There's something I have to do," he said.

I thought maybe he needed to give me a few pointers on how
to ride a motorcycle, that I should lean into the curves,
that I should hold onto him, that I shouldn't be afraid
because he was a great driver.

I was wrong.

He slipped one arm around my waist and pulled me close, so
close that I couldn't have gotten away if I wanted to, while
his other hand cupped my jaw, thumb just below my mouth,
long fingers brushing against my ear. "I've wanted to do
this since you got back," he said, his voice a low, hoarse
whisper.

His lips found mine in the darkness where we could barely
see each other, where the heat of his body melted into mine.
There were two short, gentle kisses as if he didn't believe
I would be here very long, that I might disappear at any
moment, and then after that came the third kiss—

The third kiss stole my heart.

And my soul.

I didn't remember our first date or what we had in common or
who was his favorite band, but I remembered this. I
remembered a thousand kisses, a hundred nights, a million
stars glittering overhead. We leaned into each other, as if
we were each drawing an electric charge from the other, as
if we'd been unplugged and powerless but now we were
stronger, invincible, immortal. The world stopped spinning
and we were all that existed; there were no other people, no
cities, no countries; there was only this.

His lips pressed against mine, his scent filling the air,
his hands touching me.

And then at last, the kiss ended and we stared into each
other's eyes, me remembering, him knowing, both of us
breathless.

"I almost lost you," he said, his words soft as if he
couldn't say them very loud because it would show how strong
the emotion was.

"I'm here, I'm safe."

He shook his head. "I'm not going to let anything happen to
you," he said. "I haven't always been"—he hesitated—"a very
good person. But I'm going to do everything I can to make
sure no one ever hurts you again."

He had a way of enchanting me with his words, maybe it was
the poet in him, maybe this was easy for him, but it didn't
matter. I knew he was telling the truth.

I just didn't know if I wanted to be safe.