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With another tuck of her hair behind her ear, Emily exhales and climbs on behind me. My bike rides double, but it doesn’t have a bitch strap or a back rest so if she’s holding on, it’ll be me she’s clutching.
Emily sits as far back as possible and even with that distance her inner thighs still rub against my body. An image flashes in my mind of Emily lying next to me with her legs wrapped around mine and her warm breath tickling my neck. I inhale to gain some control.
“Okay, jackass.” Emily chases the vision away. “What now?”
“You can hike through the woods and I’ll meet you there.”
“Could,” she says. “But I don’t know where it is and I thought an escort was required. Take back what you said about the sex stories and I’ll take back the jackass.”
“You’re the one that brought up sex,” I respond.
“No, I didn’t. You did. So I’m standing by what I said, you’re a jackass.”
“I like how you do foreplay.” I twist to face her. “Hold on to my belt loops.”
She blinks, twice. “Your what?”
“Belt loops. The ones on the sides. Hold tight and if you’re feeling frisky I’ll let you wrap your arms around my waist. Cop a feel if you’d like—and so you know, I’d prefer if you head south instead of north.”
“Belt loops will be fine,” she says.
Her choice. “This is serious, so listen up. When I lean to the side, you go with me, never against me. Don’t go throwing yourself over, move naturally with the bike. If I stop and you have to readjust, get my attention before moving, you got it?”
Because riding is a balancing act and with her doubling up with me, I have to manage both of our weight. Last thing I need is to go down and for Emily to become embedded with gravel. “All joking aside, if you get scared, rest your head on my back, close your eyes and wrap your arms around me. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine.” Emily twines her fingers around the loops in my jeans while still trying to keep space between us. I turn the key and soon my bike’s purring underneath us—a gentle vibration that immediately smooths out every frayed nerve in my body.
A quick look down shows Emily still has her feet on the ground. I point to the notches closest to her. “Place your feet on the floorboard.”
Emily’s hold on me tightens as she lifts her feet and balances on the bike. I peek at her over my shoulder. “You ready?”
She gives me a weak grin. “Yes?”
I chuckle then twist the throttle. “Hold on.”
Emily
THE MOTORCYCLE ACCELERATES and the few inches I had established between me and Oz: gone. My body slides forward, colliding into his, and we click together like two puzzle pieces. Heat rushes up my neck and onto my cheeks. My thighs are too close to his, too tight against his body and this is way more intimate than I have been before with a guy.
Even when the two of us kissed.
Oz veers left, away from Olivia’s, away from the main road, and the entire motorcycle pitches to the side. My heart thunders and my fingers clutch not only at Oz’s belt loop, but at the material of his jeans, and his hips.
Oz glances at me over his shoulder as the bike straightens out. “Lean with it, Emily.”
Right. Lean with Oz and the bike. Got it. The narrow road curves ahead and this time when Oz and the bike tilt, I move along with it. Oz releases one of the amazingly high handlebars and massages my knee before returning his hand to the grip. Whether in reassurance or to affirm I mastered the curve I don’t know, but either way, I sit higher.
The wind whips through my hair and onto my face and I shut my eyes for a brief second and pretend that I’m flying. There’s something energizing, something hypnotic, something inside me that begs to burst out of a cage in search of freedom.
The motorcycle kicks forward and our speed increases. Beams of sunlight filter through the towering trees and green foliage blurs together as we fly over the road. From head to toe, my body vibrates with the loud growling of the powerful machine.
My knee still tingles from where Oz laid his fingers on me and I’ve never been more aware of my hands in my life. I should let go of Oz’s body, but I can’t. Belt loops weren’t enough and my fingers have somehow edged up and onto his sides. Oz is solid. Yes, definitely solid. Every inch of him that I touch is tight muscle.
Oz is a year older than me, but somehow he seems o
lder, wiser and hotter than any other guy I’ve known. Just the way he rides his bike creates this overabundance of confidence.
Warm sensations I’ve never experienced before blossom through me. We enter another curve and I lean with him. I like how in sync I’ve become with Oz and the motorcycle. Like we’ve merged into one.
