“That’s not what I’m referring to.” Gerard rests his hands on my knees and then slowly runs his palms up my thighs. I like the contact. It makes me want more. More of him, more touching, more caressing, more everything. “I have responsibilities to people. To people who are rough and rugged and sometimes dangerous. And you are . . .” He places his hand affectionately on my neck. “You are none of those things.”
I wish I could say Gerard is none of those things either, but he is. He is each and every adverb he described. But he is also smart, and funny, and honest, as far as I can tell.
“How do you know I’m not dangerous?” I tempt him.
“Just a hunch.” He swipes his thumb back and forth over my jugular vein.
“Are you dangerous?” I lean in a little closer to him, my tone serious.
“When I have to be.” He doesn’t sugar coat anything.
“Will you ever hurt me?”
“Never.” His voice is rough as his warm breath skates across my skin.
“Then what does it matter what world we come from?”
“It doesn't to me, but I wasn’t sure if it would matter to you. I have baggage.”
“So do I. Lots of it. Should that stop us?”
“Nothing stops me when I want something,” Gerard declares.
“Do you want me?” I drop a bombshell of a question.
“I’ve wanted you from the first damn second I saw you,” he drops a bombshell of an answer. I lean in closer, with no hesitation, and press my lips to his. I don’t care about his baggage or mine, or if he knows dangerous people. I just care about him. About him kissing me, touching me, being with me.
A groan vibrates in his throat as he locks both hands against my neck and deepens the kiss, his mouth becoming more aggressive with every passing second. I grab onto Gerard’s wrists for support as our lips smash and our tongues circle in a clash of compulsion. It’s as if a gravitational force is driving us together. I can’t stop, nor do I want to. I need air, but I want Gerard more.
He hauls me closer to him on the bike, our pelvises close enough to grind. Fastening his palms to my bottom, he gropes my ass as he assails my mouth, claiming, owning, affirming that my lips belong to him. My heart starts to pound and so does my head as everything inside me begins to heat up.
We go at it like two horny teenagers, right here, out in the open, on top of his bike. I lose myself as his hand slips up my shirt to caress my breast. God, how long has it fuckin’ been since a man touched me? I can’t remember the last time. I can, however, attest, no man has ever touched me like Gerard. There's a clear sense of aggression, of dominance, of urgency. I can't quite explain it, but I know, no one has ever put their hands on me like this.
“Shit, darlin’.” Gerard thrusts his hips, pressing his confined erection right between my legs. The rocklike feel against my pussy has me mewling. I don't want to sound desperate, but Christ, it's been so long, and he feels so good.
I try to keep my hormones in check and my wits about me, but the more he touches me, the more he kisses me, the more we dry-fuck, the more I want to rip his clothes off right here on this bike.
“Darlin’, if you were any other woman,” he heaves out. “I would bend you right over this bike and not care who’s watchin’.”
“And you’re not because?” My reply is breathy.
“Because you're not some clubhouse whore.”
I shake my head. “I don't know what that is.”
“Exactly. You’re more. You deserve more than just a fast, meaningless fuck over my bike.”
I stare at Gerard. I can’t believe what’s about to come out of my mouth, but I say it. “So, take me home, and fuck me slow, and make it mean something.”
Yup, I said it, and I meant it. His reaction will be the deciding factor.
“If I take you home, darlin’, I may never let you leave.”
“Maybe I won’t want to leave, but we’ll never know if we don’t go.” Oh, the boldness is making an appearance tonight. I don’t know what’s come over me; it’s like a spell or something. Sex on the first date? It’s not advice I would give my daughter, but she’s young and still impressionable, looking for a man she’ll make her husband. I’m a forty-something divorcee with a shithead for an ex and a sex life drier than the desert. My reputation isn’t at stake anymore. Gerard may never speak to me after tonight, and I could probably live with that. It’s just the point I'm at in my life. Solid enough alone, secure enough to have some fun.
“Kristen, it’s on.” Gerard sits upright. He presses an affirming kiss on my lips, then picks up the helmets that were tossed on the ground.
Before I know it, we are peeling out onto the highway. I’m latched onto a man I barely know, on my way to a place I know nothing about.
