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“No. I’ve missed you too,” I confess, feeling lighter for some reason just by stating those words.
“Are you ready?” he asks, taking my hands in his. They’re big and warm, and memories of the wicked things they can do to my body flash through my mind.
“Yes.”
“Excellent,” he says with a naughty grin. Bending down to pick up the bag he dropped, he pulls a small black helmet out and holds it out for me to take.
“Ummm?” I say, extending my hand slowly, as if the helmet were a snake ready to strike me.
“We’re going for a ride.” Linkin pulls a second helmet from the bag and shoves it in the crook of his arm.
“It’s December,” I say deadpanned, stunned that I’m even considering this.
“It is. All month, actually. I’ve been told there’s thirty-one days total.”
“Smartass,” I grumble.
“Listen, if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. I just thought that it’s a pretty mild night and would be a great time for a ride. But if you don’t want to go, we can take my truck.”
Actually, I realize quickly that I do want to go. I really, really want to. I haven’t been on a bike since my wild and crazy days in high school. You know, before Chris. My heart is racing, but it’s not from nerves or fear. It’s excitement. I feel energized. Free. And even though it’s cool, and yes, December, there’s only one answer. “Let’s go.”
With one hand gripping the helmet and the other encompassed by Linkin’s, we head down to where his bike is stored. He leads me behind our building, past the lot where we park our cars, and towards a large storage shed. “The manager lets me keep my bike in here for very little extra rent each month,” he offers as he unlocks the padlock on the door. Inside, the shed is filled with lawn tools, different things for building maintenance, an old riding lawn mower, and a black motorcycle. I recognize it instantly. He was riding it the day I cut his hair.
Why does the thought of climbing on that with Linkin make me all giddy?
“Ready?” he asks, turning and helping me zip up my coat. When his hands brush my breasts, he smirks and gives me a wink. My blood starts to heat and warmth floods between my legs.
“Did you just feel me up?” I ask, feigning offense.
“Not at all, Firecracker. If I was going to do anything offensive, I’d do this,” he says just before his lips plaster to my own. My mouth instantly opens, his hot tongue sweeping inside and stroking my own. His hands wrap around my ass as he gently lifts my feet a few inches off the ground, bringing me flush against his body.
The kiss doesn’t last long enough. Not by a long shot. When he puts me down and pulls back, he moves his hands to my face, stroking and caressing my cheeks. “Come on. Let’s get you suited up before I decide to forget the ride and take you back to my apartment and ravish you from head to toe.”
Yes, please!
Without another word, he reaches for my helmet and places it on my head. It’s a tight fit and makes me wonder who exactly this helmet was purchased for.
“Does it fit okay?” he asks, gently slapping the top and making my head shake.
“It’s a little tight,” I confirm, trying to keep my ears where they’re supposed to be.
“It’s Jack’s. He insisted you wear his because Jeff’s smells like cheesy farts,” Linkin says with a big smile. My God, that smile. It could disarm nuclear weapons from dangerous foreign countries.
“What?” I gasp with laughter.
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t,” he says as he places his own helmet on his head. “At least, I hope not. He just wants the pretty girl to wear his.”
Smiling, I watch him slide onto the bike and back it out of the shed. When he has it where he wants it, his long legs holding it up, he extends his hand and helps me climb on. Suddenly, I realize I’m cradling Linkin’s large body between my thighs, and I’m about to wrap my arms around his torso and hold on tight.
My Lord, riding a motorcycle is so sexy.
“Ready?” he asks, slipping his helmet onto his head.
“Ready.” And I am. Ready for the ride. Ready for whatever is brewing with this sexy, infuriating man. Ready to let go of everything; live in the moment.
My blood starts to hum as he fires the bike to life, giving it a little more gas and revving the powerful engine. Grasping his jacket, I hold on tight, exhilaration sweeping through my body, as he gooses the throttle. A squeal of excitement rips from my throat as I tighten my hold on his large body.
The evening air chills me, but I ignore it. I focus on the way my body vibrates against the machine, my heart races in my chest, and the hum between my legs that has nothing to do with the bike, and everything to do with the proximity of Linkin. I want him, there’s no denying that, but I want him more than just in my bed (or his…I’m not picky). I want to spend time with him, get to know him, and see what happens.
