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My eyes fly up from the screen of my phone to see Dean has gotten off his bike and turned around to sit on it the right way. He leans over and tosses his Styrofoam cup into the garbage can in the grass a few feet away, then rests his hands on the handle bars as he looks over at me, all the humor gone from his face.
“I don’t need your help. I am perfectly capable of—”
My words are cut off by the roar of the Harley engine as Dean starts up his bike, eyes still locked on mine, while I glare at him for cutting me off.
“As I was saying, I—”
“Get on the fucking bike, Laura.”
Well then….
The gruff, broody Dean Campbell I’ve always been told about has suddenly made an appearance. I should be telling him off for speaking to me that way. I should be pissed and stomping away from him. No one tells me what to do or orders me around. I’m the one who does all the telling and the ordering around here. Too bad I’m not pissed; I’m turned on. All sorts of dirty images start flying through my brain, like him ordering me to get on my knees, bend over, take more… until I’m sitting here in my dead golf cart, panting like a dog.
This is not good. This is sooo not good for me.
“Please get on the bike,” Dean speaks again, his voice a little softer but no less gruff and demanding, even if he did try to soften it with some manners. The damage has already been done. No amount of pleases will erase what has now been implanted into my brain.
Easy-going, sarcastic, smirking Dean is hard to resist, but I’ve done a fine job of it. Hard, demanding Dean is clearly my freaking kryptonite, and this is definitely how I die.
With another muttered curse under my breath, realizing that I have no other choice, I grab my cell phone from the seat and slide out of my golf cart to stand next to Dean and his bike.
“Just so you know, I’m only doing this because it’s an emergency. Not because you ordered me to do it,” I inform him as I shove my phone in the front pocket of my Dip and Twist hoodie, narrowing my eyes at him as he revs the engine. The stern look on his face is immediately replaced with that maddening smirk.
“Whatever you say, sugar.”
I continue glaring at the back of his head, even though he can’t see it, as I climb onto the back of his bike, yanking my hands off his shoulders as soon as I’m in my seat to rest them on my thighs. Dean immediately reaches behind him with both hands, grabs mine off my thighs, and tugs me closer. My body jerks forward until it’s stopped by the hard wall of Dean’s back. Every inch of the front of my body from my breasts down to my thighs is plastered up against the back of him. Hoping to God he can’t feel my heart pounding against him, I try to slow my breathing. With his hands still holding mine, he helps me wrap my arms around him, patting the top of my hands to keep them in place once he’s flattened my palms against the front of him.
Of course I’ve noticed how much bigger he is than me, but feeling his hot, hard body against mine as I’m draped around him makes my hands itch to run them all over him and see how big he is everywhere. The vibrations of the bike between my legs isn’t helping matters, so I pinch my eyes closed and try to think about anything else but being fucked by this man on this bike.
“You okay back there?” Dean asks over his shoulder, raising his voice over the rumble of the engine as he starts walking his bike backward out of the parking space.
I can hear the humor in his tone as he moves us, and it annoys me to no end. This man can probably tell I am anything but okay right now, since I can’t slow down my wildly beating heart that is still pounding against his back.
“Just behave and get me to my daughter’s house quickly and in one piece,” I threaten loudly over the sound of the bike, knowing we only have about an hour until the island noise ordinance kicks in.
Dean cranes his neck even more to look back at me while his bike idles in the middle of the empty parking lot, putting his mouth dangerously close to mine. His warm breath skates against my lips, and it takes every muscle in my body to hold perfectly still and not close the distance between us to see if he still tastes like that butterscotch milkshake.
It’s all just too much right now. My body draped around his, my bare thighs hugging his denim-covered ones, feeling the steady beat of his heart under one palm, the muscles of his abs bunching under the other, the rumble of the bike coursing through me and heightening everything, making me want to rub myself against him until this ache goes away….
“Sweetheart, you’re the one straddling me. If anyone needs to behave, it’s you. Don’t get too handsy while I’m steering.”
The bubble bursts, and I pull back to shake my head at him.
“Will you just shut up and go?”
“I’m just saying…,” Dean trails off for a second, tipping his face back closer to mine and suddenly getting serious again. “You move that right hand of yours a few inches south, and you’re gonna feel what having you on the back of my bike does to me.”
Gulp.
“Care to move your hand a few inches south?”
The teasing sparkle is back in his eyes, and the urge to punch his mouth instead of kiss it has returned.
“Oh, you can just eat sh—”
The rest of my words are cut off with my own screaming laugh as Dean guns the engine, quickly pulling us out of the Dip and Twist parking lot, and I cling to him as tightly as I can.
While absolutely not moving my hands in any direction, north or south.
