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“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” He takes my discarded suit and tie and fits them into the side compartment, pausing to glance at the jacket. “Someone was dressed fancy today.”
“You have no idea,” I say. I’m still assessing the motorcycle. There’s only one helmet between us and there’s a lot of concrete to run into. “Listen, Levi, I’d feel better if—”
He grins and closes the compartment. “Now. When you get on, put your feet here.” He points to the foot pegs. “Keep them there the whole time. When I lean, you lean with me, not against me. If you fight the lean, that’s when things get squirrely. And hold on to me, right here.” He pats his midsection.
“What if I do something wrong and we both wind up hurt?”
He looks at me steadily. “Baby boy, you won’t. All you have to do is hold on and trust me. I’ll do the rest.”
I strap the helmet on and climb on behind him. My thighs bracket his hips and I slide my hands around his midsection, uncertain at first about how tightly to hold on. He smells like rain and warm cotton and something underneath that’s just him. I press closer.
It isn’t until I have my hands curled around Levi’s midsection that it occurs to me that this time, baby boy is kind of sweet. Like it’s growing on me.
The engine roars to life beneath us, a deep vibration that travels up my spine. I tighten my grip reflexively, fingers digging into the hard planes of his abdomen. He reaches down and squeezes my hands once. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Let’s do this before I lose my nerve.”
The first turn makes my stomach lurch, and I press my chest against his back, clinging with every ounce of strength. We emerge onto the street and I feel completely exposed, cars looming like giant death machines on all sides, the pavement rushing by mere centimeters from my feet. Even through the helmet, the wind batters against me, and I’m certain I’m about to be torn off and tossed into traffic.
Then something unexpected happens. As we straighten out and pick up speed, the terror begins to transform. The vibration of the engine becomes less threatening and more exhilarating. We’re cutting through the wind, maybe even a part of it. I loosen my death grip on Levi’s middle slightly, allowing myself to lean with him as we take a gentle curve.
When we stop at a red light, he turns his head. “You still with me, or do you want to go to the Metro?” He nods his helmet, and I look over at the station entrance.
“I’ll stay with you.”
He gives me a thumbs-up. “Good,” he shouts, “because we’re just getting started.”
The light changes, and we accelerate. This time, I don’t close my eyes. I watch the city pass around me. I feel Levi’s body telegraph each movement before it happens: a slight lean for a turn, a gentle shift of weight that I can mirror. By the time we pull up to the Capital Hilton, I’m laughing inside my helmet. I can hardly believe how I’m acting, but for right now, I don’t care.
Chapter four
Levi
In the end, we have to make a detour to a drugstore for supplies: my own stash is in a Motel 6 in Alexandria with the rest of my gear, and there’s absolutely no way I’m driving a guy who stays at the Capital fucking Hilton to a Motel 6. The hotel looks sleek, modern, and expensive as I pull in front of it. Bastien gets off and unstraps his helmet, handing it to me.
“How was it?”
“It was pretty cool,” he says. He tilts his jaw down, but then looks at me through his lashes. It makes him look bashful as hell, and if I wasn’t already turned on, he’d have me by the short hairs just with that look alone. “Room 614. Give me five minutes.”
I agree and drive the bike to the parking deck around the corner.
Okay. Pulse check.
Bastien was right about me holding back with the wattage. Truth is, I wasn’t even conscious of it until I started letting go. Each time I dialed up the intensity, it felt less like a choice and more like instinct taking over. Standing by the bike, I know I’ve pushed too far—flirted with some of those red lines, and then took one or two of them in a surprise pincer operation. I caught that flash of genuine alarm in his eyes when I went full protective mode. But even then, he didn’t flinch when I called him “baby boy”—twice. That’s a win. A bigger one than he probably realizes, and I’m not prone to cede that ground back without a fight.
The lobby attendants make such a big show of not noticing me that I’m pretty sure they’re going to be following me on the security cameras. I wave to the one in the elevator when I get on.
When I get up on 6, I follow the signs. Bastien pulls open the door only a few seconds after I knock. His gaze slides over me, and then he gives me that playful look that he has to know turns me on. “I ordered that pizza three hours ago. Is that what they call customer service in this town?”
I lightly push him into the room and kick the door shut with my heel. “So that’s the fantasy?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it seemed like the most fun at the time.”
I back him against the wall and put my hands on his body. “You always this sassy?”
“Maybe it’s your lucky day.”
