“I wanted a day where I didn’t have toworkon the bike.” He hands me the extra helmet he has strapped to the seat.
“How is this different?” I take it and turn it over in my hands. While helmets of all sorts are abundant here, I don’t wear them. I don’t have a reason to.
“This is a Harley. You don’t ride it on trails or do tricks on it, you just cruise.”
“O-kay.” I don’t get the distinction—two wheels are two wheels—but the gleam in his eyes keeps me from saying anything that might squash his excitement.
At least I’m wearing some khaki shorts with a pair of chucks instead of a skirt today.
I pull the helmet on and take his hand while I swing my leg over the bike. “Wrap your arms around my waist. Hold on tight.” He guides my arm where he wants it.
“Oh, I get it now. We’re re-enacting your fantasy. You really think I’m going to have sex with you on your bike?” I slide my hands over his abs just to torture him.
“I wouldn’t object. Riding is excellent foreplay.” He winks at me before pulling his own helmet on, and before I can stop myself, I laugh at his audacity. Really laugh, not the sarcastic chuckle I usually give him.Why does he have to be so damn sexy?
I feel his stomach tense under my hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that before. I like it. Not as much as when you moan my name, but… it’s nice.”
“Hey now.” I smack his shoulder. “Don’t ruin the day by being a pig.”
He gives my thigh a playful squeeze. “You like it when I’m a pig.”
Though we both know that’s true, pride won’t let me admit it so easily. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do. You grin and roll your eyes, and then you let me fuck you.”
“I let you fuck me because you give good orgasms.” I pinch his side, causing him to shift his hips to the side to escape my grasp.
“Wait till you feel the one I give you after a day on the bike.” He tugs my arms tighter around him. “Now, hang on.”
We take off on a two-lane road that weaves through a densely wooded valley next to a small river that’s popular for fly fishing. This time of year, the water is fairly high, and the grass is a vibrant green. Traffic is light, limited to a few trucks and RVs carrying vacationers to their camping destinations, and cows grazing along the road. Yes, around here cows are part of traffic.
Despite the roar of the engine and the wind gusting around us, the ride is peaceful. There’s no pressure to talk or even to think, though it’s hard to keep my mind from wondering how exactly I got here.
I realize part of this day is a result of just trying to get Axel to leave me alone so I could work, but if I really didn’t want to be here, I didn’t have to give in to his request. The fact I let him sway me suggests I’m starting towantto be around him, and not just for the physical release he can provide.
Does that make me weak or foolish?
Gradually, the road starts to wind upward, sharp S-curves taking us higher and higher as the trees get farther and farther apart. At the top of the pass, we stop at an overlook, giving us a clear view of the valley down below.
Nestled at the bottom is a lake that feeds the river we drove past. It’s a vibrant dot of blue against a sea of green, and though it only took an hour to get here, there isn’t a hint of civilization in sight.
Axel shuts the bike off and helps me dismount, setting the helmets on the seat. I shiver as I take in my surroundings—the air is chillier up here—and he hands me a sweatshirt he has stored in the bike. I snuggle into the oversized cotton, which smells faintly of the woodsy soap he uses.
“Let’s check it out.” He takes my hand, which would normally be a red flag, but if I let myself feel instead of think, I find I enjoy the sensation of having our fingers linked together. Whether that’s because it’s been so long since anyone’s touched me without the specific intent of getting off, or because this is Axel and he’s proven to have more depth than I originally gave him credit for, I’m not sure. And for once, I don’t let myself get hung up on it.
He leads us along an overgrown path to the side of the small parking lot, and, walking in silence, we enjoy the crisp air and the tiny wildflowers trying to poke up from the ground. His hand is warm and soft, gently pulling me along as we weave through the trees to a tiny clearing. When we stop, he guides me in front of him, wrapping hisarms around my waist so my back is pinned to his chest as we take in the view.
“It’s incredible,” I sigh in wonder, giving him enough of my weight that I’d stumble without him behind me.
“This is the kind of stuff I see when I ride for fun. There are paved roads that offer a good view, but the best scenery can’t be found on a paved road. You need to get on the trail to see things like this. The bike lets me experience stuff most people never will.”
“That’s why you make movies? So other people can experience it, too?” I swivel my head to face him, trying to read his expression.
“I make the movies because they’re a way for me to see as many places as possible. That’s not what people see when they watch them, though.” He stares wistfully at the horizon.
“What do they see?” I turn my head to follow his gaze.
“Mostly the jumps and tricks.” I feel him shrug.
