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I lunge over my bike and clasp her arm, right above her elbow. “Back up,” I grunt and gently move her elbow several inches away, out of range of my bike.
My brother would call me dramatic, but he's never had someone bump into his bike and have it eat pavement before. That shit is painful—in time and money.
“Sorry, sorry,” she murmurs, stepping back another foot.
Her cheek grow pink under my scrutiny, and I feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe I was too harsh.
My hand slips from her arm, the pads of my fingertips trailing down her soft skin. A weird buzzing sensation travels from my fingers, up my arm, and sinks into my skin like an electrical current.
“It's fine.” The words slip past my clenched jaw with a grunt. I cross my arms across my chest, curling my fingers into my palms to erase that weird tingling sensation.
“I was just curious. I've recently discovered this show, and I—”
“Don't tell me, started watching that biker show and now you wanna ride on the back of some asshole's bike and live out your fantasies?” I droll, arching a brow underneath my black baseball cap.
You wouldn't believe the amount of bunnies that run through here with the same fantasy. It's wildly unoriginal. Maybe if I was ten years younger and didn't give a fuck about where I stuck my dick, I wouldn't care.
Fuck, I don't even know why I'm that irritated now.
“And I was wondering if I could ever ride one,” she continues her train of thought like I didn't interrupt her.
I uncross my arms and twist my hat backward, looking across the parking lot to the brothers smoking by the cluster of picnic tables by the clubhouse.
At least they're not close enough to bear witness to whatever the fuck is happening now.
I feel her gaze on me, hot and sharp. And then I do something stupid. Something only overheating could cause. I've spent too much time outside today, I'm sure of it.
“You wanna go for a ride?”
The words fly out of my mouth too fast, like I was scared or something. Which is ridiculous.
She rears back a half-step and tilts her head to the side. “Right now?”
I fold my arms across my chest, feeling better with my weird olive branch. She'll say no, and I won't feel so bad for making an assumption about her. And then I'll carry on with my day and try to forget about her pouty lips and her long legs.
Fuck, just thinking about her legs has me stealing another glance at them.
“You got something better to do?”
I want to kick my own ass. Why the fuck am I pushing so hard? I've never had a woman on the back of my bike—including Hunter's mom.
And yet here I was, practically begging this stranger. I've never begged a woman in my life, and I can't explain what's happening. Only that it is and I can't stop myself.
She grins, and she looks different. Not younger, but more carefree. Joyful. My lips curve into a frown, and for some reason, her smile only widens.
I'm citing heat stroke. That's definitely what's happening to me right now.
“Sure, I'll go for a ride.” She tucks her hands in the back pocket of her jean shorts. The move puffs up her chest, almost like she's putting 'em in the spotlight. Or maybe that's my sex-deprived mind playing tricks on me.
I shift my weight to the other foot and cock my head to the side. “You ever been on a bike before?”
“Nope, sure haven't,” she says, rocking back on her heels.
“It's easy. Just like—”
“Riding a bike?” she interrupts me, a laugh tumbling out of her rosy lips.
“Yeah,” I grunt, rounding my bike with my helmet in one hand. “Something like that. Just hold onto me and follow my lead, yeah?”
