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I’d only known Trip for about thirty minutes, but laughing seemed to be his permanent state. What kind of man was so jovial after falling off a cliff into the ocean?
He took my silence and inaction as permission and squeezed my leg. Reluctantly, I patted the top of his hand and moved it back over to his own thigh. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to touch me. I did, I just wasn’t usually the kind of girl given to spontaneously sleeping with handsome devils. And boy was he a charmer.
If I hadn’t grown up in a family who enjoyed extreme sports, I’d be a very different person. It was in my nature to be risk aversive. But growing up with four brothers and parents who enjoyed scuba diving, surfing, rock climbing, bungee jumping, and pretty much any activity that was guaranteed to get your heart racing, meant you either learned to let go of that fear, or you were left behind. My family was extremely tight-knit and getting left at home while they played would have been torture. What it had produced was an odd mixture of an introverted adrenaline junkie.
When it came to hobbies, if it was dangerous, I loved it. That didn’t mean I went wild in the rest of my life. In fact, it was the opposite. Jumping out of planes meant I was overly cautious in every other area—especially dating. I didn’t sleep around and had only had a few long-term boyfriends. The last guy I’d dated hadn’t been fond of my hobbies. He’d dumped me because we didn’t have anything in common. He’d been a straight-laced corporate type. The man before him had been too wild in every area of his life. We had fun on the weekends, but when he started trying to bring more women into the bedroom that’d been the end for me.
I wasn’t a woman who liked to share. There were needs that I had, like any other, but that didn’t include some of the hardcore kinks he’d had in mind. We’d mutually agreed to go our separate ways. I hadn’t been touched by a man since my last boyfriend and that was just depressing. My battery operated boyfriend wasn’t cutting it anymore. Especially not when I had a red-blooded, drop dead sexy guy sitting in my car in only a pair of soaked jeans. I had never been this turned on by a man, and his impromptu strip show was making it worse.
My nipples were straining against my shirt. I couldn’t bear to look down, because I hadn’t put a bra on this morning. I’d thought it was going to be a solitary drive from the campground at Big Sur back home to San Francisco. How was I supposed to know I’d end up with a sexy co-pilot?
Live a little.
I frowned because that little voice in my head sounded an awful lot like my best friend Katya. Kat was a wild child. That’s why we got along so well. I was down to earth and dependable—and kept her out of trouble—while she put a little fun into my life. She was always down for some rock climbing, but also forced me to get out of my pajamas at night and go out to a club every so often. In turn, I convinced her to stay in and pick up a book. It was all about balance.
She would absolutely be telling me to take a walk on the wild side and take this biker up on the invitation that was there in his heated gaze.
Was this real life? Because in my version of life, hot, heavily muscled, tattooed guys didn’t look twice at me. At least not that I’d ever noticed. Then again, I hadn’t been around many hot, heavily muscled, tattooed guys. They didn’t tend to run in my circles.
My social life mainly revolved around my job and the few times a month Kat managed to drag me out. And my job usually brought in a lot of men who were older than my twenty-six years.
“Tell me about yourself.”
Oh jeez. His voice had deepened and it was all sexy and raspy. Arousal zipped along my skin. Did all bikers have this dangerous sexy aura, or was it just him? We’d gone from making polite small talk to the inside of the car threatening to burst into flames.
“Um… There’s nothing really special to tell,” I managed to respond.
“You live in San Francisco?”
I nodded in answer. I was still watching him from the corner of my eye as I drove, so I didn’t miss the way his eyes dipped down to my breasts. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, trying not to blush from head to toe.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a dive guide.”
There was a blank look on his face. I smiled because I got that a lot from people. Especially when they didn’t live near the ocean.
“I work for a dive shop and I do guided scuba diving tours,” I explained.
He frowned. “You scuba dive?” I nodded. “Willingly?”
That made me choke on a laugh. “Not a fan of the ocean?”
He shook his head. “Hate water most of the time. I grew up in Texas. I’m a desert rat.”
“What brought you here from Texas?”
The open, friendly look on his face was immediately replaced by a blank mask.
Neat trick.
“Business.”
I didn’t bother to ask what sort of business because it was obvious he wasn’t going to talk about it. I had no right to delve into his life past what he was willing to share.
Yet you let him feel up your thigh and ask personal questions?
“How long are you staying?” I asked, ignoring my inner voice even though she had a point
