Page 102 of Riding the Curve

Lowering my voice an octave, I trace the slope of her neck with my fingertip. “Careful with that smart mouth, baby. I can think of several ways to silence it.”

I tip the visor closed and hop out of the car before she can snap back. And before I make good on my threat.

As we round the back of the car, I gently grab her arm and pull her in front of me. When I lift off her helmet, her eyes simmer with heat. “Turn around.”

Her lips part to speak. Once. Twice. But then she slowly gives in and turns around. I lower the helmet to the ground. Gathering her waves into my hands, I begin to braid.

“Emerson Alexander Lane, are you braiding my hair?” she asks over her shoulder. I nudge her chin back forward with my finger.

“With the helmet, it’ll be hard to pull free if it gets in the way. You’ll need both hands and eyes clear at the speeds you’ll be going.”

“And where, may I ask, did you learn how to braid hair?” She snorts.

“Mama taught me.” I pause, taking a deep breath to calm the tinge of anxiety that sprouts. “She wanted to donate her hair when we shaved it the first time. It was easier to keep it all together so that we could save it.”

“Oh Em,” she breathes, then turns around and wraps her body around mine. “You are a good son, and a wonderful man.”

My breath catches in my throat as I take in her words. They fill me with warmth, soothing the pain of the memory. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the hair tie I stole from her on the dance floor and loop it around the ends. I shift her waist to face me then grab the helmet. Just as I’m about to secure it back on her head, she grabs my wrist. I watch from beneath my visor as she brings it to her lips and feathers a kiss on the sensitive skin.

The woman is determined to make me ride beside her with a raging hard-on the entire time.

“Thank you,” she whispers, as I lower the helmet over her head.

A devilish smirk tugs at her lips just before I completely cover it.

“Start out slow at first, until you get the feel of her. She’s a little sensitive,” I say, patting the smooth leather dash reverently.

A low grumble erupts from beside me. “Em, I know how to drive a manual. I grew up on a damn ranch! I’ve been driving tractors and trucks all my life. I know how to handle all kinds of shifters.”

Indeed, you do, baby.

“Show me.” I nod at the steering wheel and watch her hands bounce with excitement over it.

She pushes in the clutch and turns on the ignition. The engine purrs to life, music to my ears. A sound that will never get old.

Her gloved hand wraps around the shifter, and I watch her chest rise slowly up and down as she takes a steadying breath. One green Converse holds in the clutch while the other lightly feathers the gas as she shifts it into first. We launch forward, then immediately come to a jerky halt when the car stalls.

Laughter bursts out of me and tears form in my eyes as I try to catch my breath.

“Dammit! My foot slipped!”

“Sure, it did, Trouble,” I wheeze.

A flustered snarl sounds beside me. The Porsche rumbles alive once more, only to abruptly stop once more. She growls loudly and her head falls against the wheel.

“Gentle, baby. Slowly let out the clutch.”

I can feel the heat of her glare from beneath her visor, and I hold in my laugh, not wanting to provoke her feistiness any further. Rolling her neck, she set herself back up and presses the ignition once more.

This time when she throws it into first, we fly.

“That’s my girl!” I yell, and she floors the gas even more.

As we round each lap, Hen begins to grow bolder, increasing her speed. I only cover her hand to guide her through some of the shifts, but the rest is all her. Her giddy screams flood the cabin with every turn, and I learn that my girlfriend is quite the sailor when she gets excited.

“Hell yes! This is fucking amazing!” she yells as we whip around each turn and zip through each straightaway.

I only fear for my life about two times out of the twenty laps she drives. On one turn, she swerves a little bit into the dirt. During another lap, she gets a little too comfortable and tries to turn on the radio while driving.