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At least until we’d been on that motorcycle for hours.
Eventually, though, my little euphoric state had to end.
Etienne was out of gas, which he told me in a near yell, as he pointed at a sign on the side of the road that indicated that there was gas ahead.
He’d pulled into the gas station, and that was when I remembered about the pipe.
I must’ve stared at it for a little too long, because one second I was still on the back of the bike, and the next I was ass over teakettle.
My eyes blinked a few times in confusion, then I finally registered where I was… over Etienne’s shoulder.
“What just happened?” I asked aloud, not sure if I was asking myself or him.
He answered, though.
“What happened was that I knew you were contemplating it, and I decided to circumvent it by taking you inside,” he answered.
I snickered. “I wasn’t going to do it. I have impulse control. It’s just sometimes I think about doing things, and have to tell myself that bodily harm isn’t a good thing.”
“Hmm,” he said as he bounced me slightly. “Oh well.”
I liked this setup better.
My legs were sore today.
Last night, I’d spent the majority of my going-to-sleep time thinking about how sore I was from the day. I’d been on my feet from dusk until dawn, and manhandling large farm animals was tough work on top of it.
Not having to use my legs today sounded really nice.
My joints—as well as my ankles—really appreciated his thoughtfulness.
Sadly, what goes up must come down.
Just as we breached the entrance of the small convenience store, he set me down on my feet as easily as he picked me up. The only difference was, this time I slid down his front with an erotic slowness to it that surprised me.
Our fronts were plastered together, and though I was fairly sure he wasn’t hard, there was a sizable bulge pressed against my belly that told me he was very much aware of how close we were.
I swallowed hard before stepping back—reluctantly—and staring at him in surprise.
“What?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure if he was just playing at being innocent, or if he literally was.
I bit my lip and looked away, forcing myself to turn and head to the bathroom.
When I came back out, there was no one in the store but the clerk.
I glanced quickly over the shelves to see him standing by his bike filling it up.
Meanwhile, I needed something to calm me down.
The one and only thing that’d ever been proven on my end to help calm me down was candy of all things. The more sugar, the better.
I grabbed Sour Punch Straws and a Snickers bar before heading up to the counter where an older gentleman sat on a stool.
He eyed me as I walked up, and I smiled at him.
His lips twitched as he said, “If you’re his old lady, he needs to put his name on your back. That cut does him a lot of good. It would do you a lot of good, too. People don’t generally mess with a biker’s girl.”
My brows rose at that. “Really?”
“Really,” he jerked his chin toward a photo, one from many, many years ago, and said, “That’s my ol’ lady, Monica. She had my name on her back the moment I could convince her to wear it.”
I smiled. “I’ll tell him to get right on that.”
He jerked his chin in an accepting sort of way, and rang my items up.
After paying, he handed me a small bag, and I headed out the door at the same time I started ripping the wrapper off the sour straws.
When I arrived at Etienne’s bike, he was leaning against it with lazy amusement.
“Hungry?” he asked casually.
For him? Yes. For food? Also, yes.
But the former hunger was definitely more than the latter.
“Kind of?” I shrugged. “I just wanted some candy. That’s what you’re supposed to do on road trips.”
When I got close, he leaned forward and caught a bite of my Sour Punch Straw.
What was left was a tiny piece of candy, and the dusting of sugar on my fingers.
I held it up to him teasingly and said, “You forgot the best part.”
He eyed me curiously, then bent down and sucked my fingers into his mouth.
My heart all but leapt into my chest at the move.
I knew then and there that no matter what I did, I would sleep with this man.
It was a need that set me on fire.
He released my fingers from his hot mouth, and I had the strangest urge to ask him to allow me to touch his tongue again.
It felt oddly satisfying.
But I forced myself to control it, and instead dropped my hand to my side.
I stared at him in shock, wondering what he would be doing next.
The answer?
Straightening up, swinging his leg over the bike, then glaring at me.
