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The golden strands of her hair catch the rays of the setting sun as she shakes her head no. I should have guessed. Pretty little thing like her was probably warned about guys like me.
“No, but I’ve always wanted to,” she replies, her light blue eyes sparkling.
Why can’t I look away from her? “Put your bag in that back compartment,” I grunt a little more harshly than I meant. I can’t help it. Everything about this woman is throwing me off my game. I clear my throat and try to be more civil. “Now, swing your leg over the bike and scoot up behind me. Use my shoulders for balance if you need.”
Sonya looks at me, the bike, then me again. She nibbles on her bottom lip and nods. All the tension drains from my body when her soft little hand rests on my shoulder. Sonya sits and adjusts herself, but she’s too far away. For riding purposes, that is. Not anything else.
“Closer,” I tell her, trying not to growl. “Wrap your arms around my waist to keep you steady.”
“Okay,” comes her quiet reply.
The confounding woman does as I say, pressing her body against mine and clinging to my torso. Her thighs squeeze mine, and it takes a considerable amount of energy not to picture her thighs wrapped around me in a different way.
Fuck. So not appropriate.
“Ready?” I ask.
Sonya nods, and I start the engine. It roars to life, and Sonya tightens her hold on me.
“I’ll go slow,” I tell her.
“No!” she shouts over the sound of the engine. “Don’t you dare. I might not get this chance again, and I want to enjoy every minute.”
Huh. That was unexpected, but I’m not complaining. Who would have thought the first woman I’ve ever had on the back of my bike would be this little ray of sunshine?
I rev the engine and pull onto the highway, getting up to speed in no time.
“Woo!Yeaaaah!” Sonya exclaims as we tear down the road.
I’m only doing the speed limit, but I’m sure it feels like a hundred miles an hour from her perspective.I remember my first time on a motorcycle. The rush of adrenaline. The vibration of the engine as it rocketed me forward. The wind whipping my face and bringing me back into my body after a stressful and exhausting fight with my father. One ride, and I was hooked. I knew what I wanted to do with my life.
When was the last time I felt that free? That sure of myself?
“This… is…incredible!” Sonya shouts.
I feel her laughing, her entire body shaking as she wraps herself tighter around my back. A grin tugs at my lips, which is odd. I can’t seem to help it around this woman. She’s crying about her car one minute, then throwing caution to the wind and hopping on the back of a bike with a stranger the next. I get the sense that whatever Sonya does, she does it with her whole heart and all of her energy.
Eventually, we pull into the Savage Saints clubhouse, though I admit I took the long way. Not because I like having Sonya on the back of my bike or anything. She was so excited about the ride, and I wanted to ensure she got the most out of it. She said it herself; she might not get another chance.
I park the bike and help Sonya off before swinging my leg over and standing up. Sonya’s hair is wild, and her eyes are bright and excited. I get the insane urge to brush my fingers across her rosy cheeks, glowing from her first time on a motorcycle. She gives me the most radiant smile, and damn if I don’t return it. Kind of. Mine’s a bit rusty, and I think it came out as a grimace.
“Th-th-thank-k you,” she stutters, her body still shaking.
She stumbles a bit, and I reach out to steady her with a hand on her hip. “Careful,” I rasp, my voice not working for some reason. Certainly not because I’m holding onto this woman’s ample curves. “First ride can take a bit to come down from.”
Sonya nods and leans into my touch, snuggling against my side. I tense, not sure what to do. My arm moves on its own, coming to rest on her shoulders. The woman sighs, relaxing even more, though the occasional tremor still runs down her spine.
It’s too much. I don’t know what to do with these… feelings. Warmth. Longing. Concern. Everything is all jumbled up, and I need space to clear my mind.
Straightening up, I take a small step away from Sonya, dropping my arm from her shoulders. She takes the hint and turns on her heel to grab her bag from the back compartment.
Jesus, get it together. You’re helping someone in a tough spot, not proposing marriage.
When Sonya has her things collected, I nod toward the front door. As soon as we step inside, I regret not taking her around the back.
A dozen pairs of eyes land on us, most of them sizing up Sonya. Out of nowhere, a possessive rage fills my lungs, pushing out every other thought and sensation.
I loop my arm around her waist and tuck her into my side as I take long strides toward the back rooms. My men know me well enough to get the hell out of my way, but I know they’ll be talking about me when I leave the room. I’ll have to come back out here and set the record straight.
