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Tension ratcheted inside her and she was about to question him when his free hand swooped in and closed over her skin. Sensation ran the length of her neck and then shot deep inside her when he ran his thumb against her skin, soothingly, before moving his closed fist away.
Opening his hand, he revealed his catch.
A large, spindly black spider sat in the palm of his leather-gloved hand, still as a statue.
“Oh, bloody hell.” She shivered.
“He won’t hurt you. It’s a forest spider. He’s wandered in the heat and found somewhere appealing to hide. He likes you.” He smiled, and rested his hand on the roof of the car, setting the spider free.
She jerked away from the car and found herself pressed up against him, one hand on his leather jacket. The spider scurried quickly across the roof of the car and away over the other side, as if headed back to the woods. Realizing that she was now pinned up against him, she glanced up at him.
He put his hand flat on the car roof, trapping her, a gleam in his eyes as he considered her. “You’re safe now.”
He didn’t move.
For some reason she didn’t feel safe, but she liked it. Looking at his mouth, just inches from hers, she wanted contact. His jacket beneath her hand felt solid and warm from the sun. She could smell the leather, leather and his cologne, something akin to the forest. Images of raunchy sex filled her mind, assailing her senses. Scottish biker on the side of the road—she wanted to be rolling on the grass with him, to have his powerful male body between her thighs, thrusting and grinding. Her legs felt weak when the idea of it forced its way to the front of her mind, and her pussy throbbed with longing. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to maintain some sense of decorum, hard though it was. “Thank you. I do appreciate you checking on me.”
“No problem. I’ll see you later.” He stroked her hair as if tidying it for her, before returning to his bike.
She made herself look away, but stole another glance as he mounted the bike, her body growing hotter by the moment as he settled onto the machine, legs wrapped around the engine. He pulled on his helmet, revved the engine, and gave her one last wave with a leather-gloved hand.
He’d said, “see you later,” she thought, as she returned the wave. Zoë was born and bred in London and it wasn’t something she’d expect a stranger to say. This was a small village, though. That’s why he’d said that, she reasoned, getting a good look at his physique as he sped off.
Leanly muscled back inside black leather. Fit rear end outlined in denim. Her fingers itched to touch him, to discover how that body might feel under her hands.
&nbs
p; I want to sit on him, to ride him until I come.
Cupping her hand briefly over her fly, she ached to touch herself. What was the matter with her? She didn’t normally look at men this way. Well, not quite so blatantly, at any rate.
When her mobile phone bleeped into life she leapt into the car seat and picked it up, glad of the distraction, fanning her face with her free hand as she glanced at the screen. It was her sister. “Hey, Gina.”
“Are you there yet? I’m dying to know what it’s like.”
“Not quite there yet, but soon. The landscape is stunning. You were right, it’s a great spot.”
“Are you okay? You sound kind of fazed.”
“I’m fine.” She reached into her bag for her electronic organizer, bringing up the calendar to see if she could be premenstrual. There had to be a logical explanation for her being so bloody horny. That might be it. Her natural instinct was to check all possibilities, as if she were checking last-minute flights for her boss. The practical approach was second nature to her.
Her calendar flashed into action. Nope. It wasn’t that. She would have known. She was a well-organized personal assistant in London, and she had to be on top of everything. Never distracted, never disorganized. If it wasn’t that making her hot and horny, it had to be a freak weather condition, because of the village’s positioning on the coastline.
“What was that?” Gina asked, when the organizer beeped.
“Just checking my calendar.”
Gina groaned. “Zoë, leave your London attitude behind, for God’s sake. You’re on holiday, relax.”
“I am. I’m fine. I just got hot all of a sudden and I wondered if I was premenstrual.”
Gina sighed, heavily. “Good grief, woman.”
“I’ll be fine when I have a shower and a nap. I’m literally just outside the village. I’ll call you back as soon as I get the keys to the cottage. Deal?”
Reluctantly, Gina agreed. “You better ring back soon. I’ll be hanging by the phone waiting to hear all about it.”
Zoë smiled as she put her phone away, feeling a tad more levelheaded. She wondered what the biker’s name was. The accent had suggested that he was local, although she was no expert on Scottish accents. This was her first visit.
