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Jules let her ice cream drop to the pavement. She looped her arms around my neck, her body pressed flushed against mine. I skimmed my palm up her rib cage, curving around her torso and cradling her breast through her t-shirt. She whimpered, pushing into my hand for more. She was so responsive and eager for my touch that I was tempted to unbutton her jeans and slip my hand between her thighs, just to watch her squirm with need.
For now, I contented myself with rubbing my thumb back and forth over her nipple until it grew stiff. I gave a teasing bite to her lower lip, just hard enough to make Jules whine.
When I pulled back to look at her, Jules’ eyes were unfocused and her breathing was shallow. She threaded her fingers through my hair, sliding her other hand down my chest.
“I’ve never been kissed like that in my life,” she said.
“I hope that’s a good thing,” I replied, tamping down my curiosity about just how much experience she had.
Jules nodded. “Oh, definitely a good thing, I promise. My one and only kiss was back in sixth grade. It was very…sticky.” She blinked, her eyes widening a fraction of an inch. Then a blush stole up her neck and glanced away. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Oversharing on the first date isn’t a good look.”
I curled my fingers around her hips, feeling a surge of possessiveness come over me at her sudden insecurity.
“You can always talk to me, Jules,” I said. “And I appreciate knowing I can kiss better than a sixth-grade boy.”
Jules groaned and covered her face with her hands.
“It sounds so bad when you say it like that.”
I laughed, prying her hands away. I kissed the corner of her mouth and she nuzzled into my neck, hiding her face.
“Trust me,” I said. “I’m taking it as a compliment. Huge stroke to my ego.”
Jules groaned again, muffled in my jacket. I laughed, rubbing her back.
“We should probably start heading in the direction of home,” I pointed out. “It’s a long ride.”
She nodded. “At least when I’m riding, I can’t stick my foot in my mouth.”
I hummed in agreement. “Can’t makeout either though.”
“That’s what pit stops are for.”
After Jules settled on the bike and I started the engine, she slipped her arms around me, kissing the back of my neck. I reached down, threading our fingers together. God, I loved this woman already and we’d only just met. I never moved this fast with a lady, but it was so damn easy to be around Jules that it felt like we’d known each other for years.
An hour into our ride on a long, lonely stretch of highway through the desert, a large black Suburban merged into our lane, coming directly toward me. I released my grip on Jules and wrapped my fingers tighter around the handle bars.
There was no reason that car should be in our lane, unless the driver was drunk. Or playing chicken. I’d seen it before – some idiot bored on the road wanted to spice things up by gunning down the motorcyclist.
“Tank?” Jules asked, a note of worry in her voice.
“Hold onto me tight,” I replied over my shoulder.
She clutched me around the middle harder. The Suburban barreled closer, straight as an arrow. The driver definitely wasn’t drunk. This was intentional. An act of aggression.
Since there was no one else on the road, I shifted to the other lane. The Suburban followed. The gap between us was growing smaller by the second. A game of chicken could be fatal for me. If one of us didn’t get out of the way in time, all it would take was my bike to get clipped and Jules and I would hit the pavement at full speed.
The Suburban continued to speed closer. Only a few feet separated us now.
At the last second, I swerved. A gust of air from the passing car made my bike wobble. The driver rolled down his window and howled as he flew by. Jules clutched at me for support. My heart hammered in my chest so hard that it was hard to breathe.
I’d recognized that man. Recognized that wild howl. It seemed a ghost of my past had come back to haunt me.
And Jules had a target on her back, too, tainted by association.
Chapter Four
Jules
