Triumph started to explain the background behind his name. “Our friend group, save one, is in the lifestyle to varying degrees. Tripoli was a silent partner in the first club we belonged to, and our friend, Cosmos, was a contractor for their security. They asked me to come in to help from the computer side. Later on, the three of us bought out the club, and then we opened a few other adult-themed clubs. We just kept the tradition. Theemployees liked it because it made them feel like family, and the patrons liked it because it lent an air of mystery to the whole thing.”
Now that she knew Triumph was interested in sex beyond the status quo, she had so many questions. Was she willing to put herself out there and ask them? Would it make him uncomfortable? What if he got the impression she was interested in him, which she totally was now, and he didn’t feel any attraction to her? That would be awkward.
She chose to go the safe route with questions and chew on whether she was willing to risk the BDSM ones. “So why Triumph? Got a thing for seventies rock bands?”
He gave a huff of laughter. “While I don’t mind classic rock, it’s not my first go-to. I’m more into the music from the club scene. No surprise there. No, the nickname came from the motorcycles, actually. I’d seen one in a movie and became fascinated with them. So, my father gave me one to rebuild when I was sixteen. Said if I wanted one so badly, I could learn about the bike before I learned to ride it.”
“How many do you have?”
“Umm… six?”
“You’re not sure?” she teased. There. The tension eased inside her. This was more comfortable. More in line with the relationship, short as it was, that she’d had with him when she first knew him.
His arm rested around her shoulders, serving as a form of shock absorber to keep her from the worst of the bouncing. Since the short stretches before and after getting into the truck coffin, as she’d decided to refer to it, she felt a little less knotted up in her neck and spine.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Yes, six. It’s my guilty pleasure. I buy them, restore them, sometimes sell them, but I kept six of them. Makes me feel closer to my dad. Lost him afew years ago to a heart attack, so the time spent working on the bikes is my time with him, even though he’s gone.”
“That’s sweet,” she told him. “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle. If we get through this and get back home, will you take me for a ride?”
Was that too forward of her? She’d heard that being on a bike was an erotic experience. The invigorating wind rushing over your body since you were exposed to the elements. The stimulating vibrations of the motor between your thighs. And the thought of clutching onto Triumph as she rode on the back of his bike? Sweet baby Jesus riding his own motorcycle… that thought was even hotter.
So much for shoving those inappropriate thoughts away.
Thinking about being around him when they got back home was dangerous. Not only would it bring her trouble to his door, but he might not even be interested in her as a friend, let alone something more. Yes, he was helping her, but she got the sense that Triumph would help almost anyone in trouble just for the sake of doing so. Clearly, it was an integral part of him. After all, who else left everything to fly down to a country they didn’t know to rescue a woman they’d never met, who was attached to a dangerous cartel?
“I want to drive Route 66. It always seems like such a romantic thing to do. Get on the road. Ride until you can’t anymore. Then get up in the morning and ride again. No responsibilities. No timelines. Just ride and see the country. Always imagined it would be in a convertible, though, not a motorcycle.”
She felt his entire body stiffen, although his hand continued to lightly stroke her shoulder. Was he hesitant? Upset? Had she finally gone too far and shown her complete hand regarding her attraction? Or was he happy about her comment, and his reaction a product of his own interest in her?
His reply, when it came, was quiet, but the quality of his voice was lower. Smoother. It held a hint of sexiness she hadn’t heard before, and more than a bit of innuendo. “I’d love to take you on your first ride. We can go wherever you want. Route 66 is a long ride to go on with someone you barely know.”
He didn’t exactly sound averse to it. Her insides started squealing like a teenager with her first crush, and there might have been an involuntary orgasm involved. That had definitely never happened before.
She decided to push the suggestion a little bit more as a test of his interest. “You came a long way for someone you only talked to over the phone, who called you up out of the blue after ten years, and who’s causing you to be chased through South America. I think I know enough about who you are from that. You’d take care of me, and I’d be safe with you.”
The tension in his body uncoiled as he smiled and leaned his head back against the window between them and the cab of the truck. “I still think it might be a bit much for your first ride. But we can build up to it.”
The excited teenager morphed into a sensual woman, a warm glow rising in her throbbing core. Her thighs clenched. The idea that he was suggesting they build something together, that he would introduce her to his world and guide her through it? Oh yeah. She was one hundred percent on board with that. Suddenly, getting back to the States had a whole new attraction for her. One she’d never believed she’d get to experience.
Could she submit to Triumph? If she were honest, she’d submitted to everyone else in her life up to this point. He shouldn’t be a problem.
She wondered what he was thinking as they sat in this new quiet, the only sound the truck passing over the roadway. When he pulled her a little tighter to his side, she melted further into this man who’d become so important to her in so little time.
“Second thoughts?” she asked.
“About taking you for a motorcycle ride?” She sensed the definite change in thought to her surface request and not the underlying sexual one when he added the “motorcycle” description to the ride. “No. Cruising Route 66 would be particularly grueling on a body that’s never ridden a bike before. You wouldn’t even make it a couple of hours before your ass and thighs, and maybe the rest of you, would be screaming to never get on a bike again.”
Oh. Maybe he meant both suggestions after all.
“I didn’t upset you with the word ‘romantic’ in there?”
“No!” he rushed to say. “Well. Maybe. Not in a bad way.”
“Is there someone back home who wouldn’t like that? You giving me rides on your motorcycle?”
“No, there isn’t anyone in my life who would be upset. I haven’t had a committed girlfriend for a very long time, and all my other relationships have been short-term.”
“But there’s someone informally? You said you didn’t have anyone in your life, but I get it. Sometimes exes, or future possible other halves, might not take to you spending time like that with another woman.”
