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“Who’s is this?” she blurted out before she could stop herself, berating herself the moment the words left her lips.
Tristan Caine raised an eyebrow at her but stayed silent, and suddenly, a horrible, horrible thought occurred to her. Was there someone he was supposed to be with back in…? She shook the thought off even before it could complete. No. What little she knew of him, from what she’d seen and heard, Tristan Caine did not mistreat women. She was the only exception and even with his hatred, he’d given her sanctuary when she’d needed it to lick her wounds and heal.
Had there been someone else, he wouldn’t have pursued her as sexually as he had.
Morana was certain of that.
This was exactly why she took a deep breath and put on the helmet, looking up at him, to find him staring back at her with an inscrutable look.
“You might want to remove those glasses,” he commented, his lips in a completely straight line.
Pulling them off wordlessly, she floundered for a second, wondering where to put it to keep it safe, before tucking one ear-handle into her cleavage, letting the glasses hang off her tank top. She looked up to find those blue, blue eyes watching her exposed skin unabashedly, before leisurely stroking over her neck, her mouth, and halting at her eyes.
They stayed that way for a moment before he turned back to face the front, his lithe, graceful body moving as he kicked the bike off the stand. He started it with a powerful thrust, waiting.
Morana felt an odd kind of excitement filling her.
She’d never been on a bike. Only ever in her
car and her father’s.
Her first time on the back of a bike, with Tristan Caine.
Morana took in a deep breath, putting her feet on the stand and her hands on those broad, muscular shoulders for support, swinging her leg over. She settled onto the seat, her legs spread wide and held that way by his hips in between them. The beast of a bike rumbled underneath her, sending vibrations up and down her spine, vibrations into her core, making her bite back on a gasp.
“You’ll need to hold more than my shoulder if you don’t want to fall,” his voice rumbled over the noise of the engine.
She didn’t want to.
But she did too.
Morana hesitated, but slowly placed her hands on the sides of his jacket, feeling nothing but tight, packed muscles beneath the leather, her fingers flexing against the warmth of his flesh.
“And keep your leg off that big rod on the right.”
She’d already figured that one out for herself.
After a second, the bike rumbled under her as he pulled out of the spot, the vibrations quickening against her flesh as the bike picked up speed, pressing her flush against his massive back.
Dear Lord, how was she supposed to survive an entire ride like this?
He pulled down his visor and throttled the engine once before pulling out of the lot, exiting into the quiet street in front of the building, turning left once on the bridge, flying across it.
The world sped by faster and faster, becoming a blur she could not see without her glasses, the motion of the bike smoother than she’d thought it would be. The wind whipped through her free locks, sending them careening wildly into different directions as her breasts flattened completely against him, her body plastered to his as she gripped him around the stomach, his abs rock hard against her palms. The bike purred under her like a content beast being stroked seductively by his lover.
And she had to admit it, Tristan Caine rode the bike well. Really well. He maneuvered around crowded areas expertly, gave it free rein in the open road, all the while in complete control of the monster. Not for one second did she feel worried about breaking her neck, and she should have as they raced across the almost empty freeway way beyond the speed limit. She should have worried when she felt the gun he’d tucked into the back of his jeans press against her stomach. But she didn’t.
All she felt was free.
Wild.
Exhilarated in a way she’d never been before.
Was this the high he got every time he climbed his bike? Was this the freedom he tasted that was so elusive in their lives? Was this the wildness he felt beat like a pulse through his blood?
Morana tilted her head back, feeling every caress of the wind over her skin, feeling a rush so profound she couldn’t even explain it to herself. So she didn’t. She let herself go, let herself have this, let herself be free in a way she had never believed was possible.
Removing her arms from around him, she tightened her grip on his hips with her thighs and raised her hands above her head. Some switch inside her had flipped. She knew he wouldn’t let her fall, or he already would have, on the many chances he’d had to destroy her. She knew he would destroy her, but not today. Today, for the first time, she got to be no one but a girl on the back of a man’s motorcycle, if even for a moment. Today, for the first time, she was just a woman with no past and no future, just this endless road with this man, this freedom, and this life.
