I need to make her back away. I thought it worked in the classroom; she looked horrified then. But how is it that she’s climbing onto my bike? How is she this close again?
She settles in behind me, and every nerve in my body vibrates. Her hands hover at my sides for a second, then grab my cut tentatively. She’s trying to keep her distance, but there’s no distance on a bike. The second I accelerate, she’ll be flushed on my back.
I would very much like it the other way. Me behind her, my legs around her hips, her back pressed to my chest where I could slide a hand down her stomach, past the waistband of whatever she’s wearing under that dress, and put my mouth to her ear while my fingers find out exactly how wet she is—
I cut it off there.
My balls are heavy even before she swung her leg over the seat, and letting that image run its full course will only make the next ten minutes torture. I only have two options from here: gether home quickly, then get myself home even quicker. My balls are going to burst if I don’t drain them.
The alternative is taking her, and that’s not going to happen.
I put both hands on the bars and start the engine. The rumble takes maybe five percent of the thought I’m trying to kill. I’ll take it. The rumble does relax me.
The bike moves, she jerks forward with the momentum, and her breasts press into my back. Her arms slide around my waist to anchor herself, and that five percent I just won gets swallowed. I’m back to a hundred percent, then past it, and all I’ve got in my head now is the two points where her breasts push against my back, flattening with every breath she takes.
My cock, already hard, gives a painful twitch. I want those breasts in my mouth. I want to peel that dress off her and put my mouth on every inch of skin I find underneath it.
I grit my teeth.Fuck this.
I haven’t had thoughts this specific about a woman before. Her hair smells like apples, and the wind is doing me no favors, whipping strands against my neck and my jaw. That’s probably what’s doing it, her scent, messing with my head.
I accelerate, taking the turn out of Kade’s lot. The sooner I reach her place, the sooner I’ll be out of this misery.
“Kade’s married,” I say over my shoulder, and I have no idea why that’s the first thing out of my mouth.
There’s a pause. Her hands go rigid on my stomach before she answers. “Okay?”
“Thought you’d want to know.”
A few seconds pass. The wind eats them. Then her voice, a little sharp. “Why would I need to know that again?”
I roll my jaw. The answer is there, in my chest, smoldering, but the words don’t form, and even if they form, I can’t let them out. I keep my eyes on the road and put more pressure on the throttle instead, and the bike responds, pushing us forward. Shetightens her hold with the acceleration, her fingers dig into the muscle below my ribs.
It’s worse. My pulse spikes. A bead of precum leaks from the tip of my cock.Damn it.I press my back teeth together.
“He’s in love with his wife. If you’re getting any ideas, forget it.“ I don’t know why I’m still talking. The words sound exactly as ridiculous out loud as they did in my head.
“What?” Her voice pitches higher, indignant. “I was being nice to a nice man who’s helping me fix my car. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me.”
“You sound jealous.”
I am absolutely jealous.
The realization doesn’t shock me. It’s already there, fully formed, sitting in my gut, just waiting for her to name it.
“Why would I be jealous?” I say instead, my hands tightening on the handlebars. I’m mentally working to hold myself because if I don’t redirect this, I’ll humiliate myself even more. So I adjust the spotlight.
“Why’d your car break down in front of Kade’s shop of all places?” I already know the answer. “You stalking someone, Miss Walsh?”
Her hands go rigid for a beat. “I’m not stalking anyone.”
“Hard not to notice when it’s a bright red Honda tailing me.”
She doesn’t say a word. I take the next turn and let the quiet do the work for me because the truth is, I don’t need her to talk. I need her to stop showing up. Stop making me want things I have no right wanting. I need her as far away from me as possible, and I need to put that distance myself.
Every second she’s near is another crack in a wall I’ve been shoring up since the moment I met her. The cracks are gaining on me.
