“What are those?” I point to the silver bars now sticking out.
“Rear pegs. They’re what you’re going to rest your feet on while we’re riding.”
“Cool!” I raise my leg up to set it on one of the pegs, but he grabs the bottom of my helmet and rips the nose of it against his, throwing me off balance.
“Not so fast, sparkplug.”Ew, not his dad’s nickname again.“We have to go over the rules first.”
“Rules?” I whine, impatient and annoyed.
He lets go of my helmet and crosses his arms, taking a wide stance. My knees weaken at the sight of him standing there dominantly. His brown eyes stare at me playfully under his helmet, his visor still up, giving him a mysterious aura as he starts his speech. He holds up one gloved finger.
“First rule. Don’tevertake your feet off the rear pegs.”
He holds up a second finger, then a third and fourth as he counts the rules out for me.
“Second. Keep your hands around my waist at all times. Third. If you want me to slow down, tap my chest twice. Fourth. If you’re having pain or discomfort at any point and want me to stop, tap me three times. Lastly, riding motorcycles is extremely dangerous. God forbid we get hit, you need to let go of me immediately and tuck and roll. You want to protect your appendages and use the padding on your gear. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
He relaxes his stance and mounts the bike, turning it on. The sound’s electric. The pure power thunders into my soul, vibrating my bones and flaming a newfound fire of passion.
“Take my hand,” he yells over the sound, throwing out his left hand, palm up to hold onto while I get on the bike.
The leather on the palm and fingers scratches mine.
“Grab my shoulder with the other hand if you need too, and step one foot on the rear peg while swinging the other leg over.”
I do as instructed, finding it much easier than when I tried to get on last time and embarrassed myself.
Woah.
The vibrations surge through me, its power trembling every part of my body. The power emanating from Dalia’s intimidating.
He reaches back and taps my thigh then grips back on the handle, kicks the kickstand up and walks the bike backwards out of the barn.
He drives slowly down the gravel driveway, easing me into the ride. He’s so careful with me on here. The sweetness of this man is going to give me diabetes.
When we reach the end of the driveway, he puts his foot down, turns to me and slaps my vizor down as well as his.
“Hold on, baby.”
I obey, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist and gripping the seat with my thighs with all my might.
He takes off. The acceleration nearly knocks me back, causing me to loosen my grip. I readjust my hands quickly to secure myself again. I can’t see the odometer, but it feels like we’re going impossibly fast.
Not to mention the rumble of the engine under my seat’s so intense I fear it’s going to trigger an orgasm.
God, this rush would be easy to get addicted to, although I have a feeling I’m already there. I’m completely in the present moment, leaving the worries of the real world far behind us. Everything blurs past, thefields, other cars, stores, lights. It’s like we’re sitting still, and the entire world moves around us, giving us a glimpse of its beauty in quick flashes.
Right as I think I never want it to end, we slow down. Ben pulls over onto the side of the road and turns the bike off.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, releasing my grip and shaking out my hands to relax them. The adrenaline must have masked the pain in my hands and back during the ride because now a stiff pain settles in both. I’ll get used to it; I assure myself.
“Nothing. I just wanted to check on you. How you doing? Are you okay? How do you like the ride?”
“Oh my God, Ben. That’s why you stopped? Baby, this is the best experience of my life!”
