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I push him back with one hand and grab my helmet from the handlebar. “Leave it to you to bring up the little alchemy game I was obsessed with as a tween. Jesus, how did you even remember that?”
He picks up his helmet and taps the side of his head with his free hand. “It’s all in here, sweetness. I’ve got a photographic memory, as well as a silver tongue.”
Watching him shove his helmet down around his head, I scoot back on the bike to make room for him. When he slides onto the seat in front of me, I say, “You’re a fibber. If you had a photographic memory, you’d remember every bike ride we ever took.”
He turns to look at me. “I took you home twenty-seven times. To the clubhouse nine times. Shopping eight times. To school seven times. To summer camp five times. To the hospital once. To the ballpark once. And on one long ride after your welcome home party. That’s fifty-nine rides with you on the back of my bike.”
I feel myself blushing because his numbers are exactly what I remember.
“Want me to tell you what you were wearing each time, what you bought at the store and who I beat up for talking trash about you?”
Biting my bottom lip, I shake my head, only because I’m getting too turned on to make words. He paid a lot more attention to me than he wants to admit. Even if he had no romantic feelings toward me back then, he noticed me. Something about that makes me feel seen for the person I am, rather than just being noticed once I grew into eye candy. It flips all the right switches for me.
He says, “Fine. If you change your mind, let me know.” His hand comes up to lower the visor on his helmet. When he turns back around and starts the engine, I slide my arms firmly around his waist.
The long ride home is relaxing. I think over the situation with Smoke. Having a crush on my brother’s friend who didn’t notice me because he was being pulled in ten different directions by whatever was going on in his life at the time, is totally different than capturing his undivided attention as an adult woman. We’re peers now that I have my license to practice law. Technically, I could hang out a shingle and become his competitor.
I close my legs tighter around his hips. One of his hands comes back to rest against my thigh for a brief moment. I like everything about this man but I’m not ready to give my heart too quickly. I’ve done that before, and it’s led to nothing but pain and heartbreak.
I rest my cheek against his back and just relax. As the landscape goes whizzing by, I realize something profound. My safe place has always been with Smoke. All those rides were during times of stress in my life.
As we’re riding along the highway, an old memory of my father comes floating to the surface. He was standing behind his desk at the clubhouse. I was on the other side, glaring at him. We were having one last blowout over me going off to college. He wanted me to go to a local college, where the brothers could look out for me. But I wanted to exercise some independence and make my own way in the world. I could see the moment he accepted defeat. He dropped down into his desk chair and said, “Fine. Get Smoke to take you to the airport.”
I’d been shocked that he’d given in, and I had asked if he was sure. Then my father had told me that the big city was nothing like Las Salinas, and I would come up against things I couldn’t handle on my own. He told me to ask for help if I needed it, and that Smoke was a good man and I could always rely on him.
I only just now realize how I had asked my father one thing, and he answered another. I wanted to know if he was serious about not fighting me about going off to college. What I got was a lecture on how great and reliable Smoke was. At the time it hadn’t made any sense to me. In retrospect, my father’s cryptic response almost sounded like he was giving Smoke his blessing, if I ever wanted him.
I let that roll around in my head while I hold on tight to the man, that I now believe my father might have chosen for me. The question that immediately comes to mind is whether my father had assigned him to transport me all those times, hoping a mutual liking would spark between us or because he could see that I was infatuated with Smoke? God knows how obvious my crush must have been to the one person who knew me best. My father’s sharp eyes missed nothing. I feel certain it might have been a combination of things, but me already liking Smoke had to have factored heavily into his sanctioning of the match.
Some small rebellious part of my mind wants me to never speak to Smoke again, simply because he was my father’s choice for me. However, feeling the warmth of his big masculine body seeping into my core makes me realize that I’ve got to see this thing between us through, see if there something to build a real relationship on. If the kissing is any indication, my father was right about him being my one. I won’t turn my back on the legacy he had in mind for me. Maybe, my father’s words were rolling around in my unconscious mind when I decided to run back home. I’m safe here, but not anywhere else. I know that now. With new knowledge comes the responsibility to use that knowledge wisely.
***
Eventually, Smoke pulls into Siege’s driveway. It’s close to midnight, which might be early for some folks, but I’m exhausted after my long, exciting day. He tries to help me off his bike like a gentleman, but I’ve spent a lot of time getting on and off his bike over the years and manage just fine on my own.
His hand comes up to flip his visor up. Suddenly, his bright green eyes are gazing at me. “Do you need me to walk you to the door.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not some love starved teen addicted to romantic ideals. So, no. I think I can walk up the sidewalk all by myself.”
“I wasn’t trying to be a dick or treat you like a child.”
“Good,” I say tartly. Reaching up, I grab his helmet, pull him forward and kiss him, hard and fast.”
Instead of letting him go, I playfully shove him away. “All grown up, remember?”
One thumb comes up to rub along his bottom lip. “Yeah. You look like a woman. Dress like a woman. Tease like a woman. And kiss like a woman.”
I am absolutely thrilled at his weird acknowledgement that no part of him still thinks of me as a child, and I wonder if that was what had been holding him back all these years, that he still thought of me as his friend’s little sister.
“See you bright and early on Monday, right?”
He nods, as if mesmerized by my sassy attitude. I turn and walk up the sidewalk. Using the spare key my brother gave me, I slide it into the lock, punch my code into the security system and let myself in. By the time I have the door open, Smoke is backing out of the driveway. Since motorcycles don’t have reverse, he walks it back showing off every muscle in his ripped form.
Everyone appears to be sleeping, so I go up to my room as quietly as possible, lock the bedroom door behind me, shuck my clothing and climb under the covers. The bed is soft, and the blankets are warm. In no time, I’m replaying the night in my head, especially the part where Smoke’s thick cock was pressed against my pussy.
My hand drifts down into my pajama bottoms and I stroke through my folds to wet my fingertips before swirling one finger around my clit. Round and round I go as I remember how having his dick pressed along my slit felt. The way his thick cock flexed and throbbed almost as if it could sense how much I wanted to impale myself on it. Smoke is one seriously well-endowed man. I imagine how the blunt tip of his cock would feel pressed against my opening.
My finger moves faster as I think of how he would stretch me to overflowing when he presses himself inside, forcing me to take every inch of him. My arousal spikes as I pleasure myself to the thought of him covering me with warmth and powering into me. My back bows off the bed when an orgasm thunders though my body, washing over me in waves as my hand slows to a lazy pace.
