The motorbike roared awake, a sound I usually welcomed because it came with an excuse to cling to his back and melt into him.
But not today.
Especially not in this damn skirt I’d selected thinking with the cold chill we would take the car. Leaving both cups on the bench with a loud clink, I grabbed my leather jacket and slammed the door behind me. He was facing away from the house as I strode towards the bike, the ground crunching underneath my boots, and part of me wanted to demand he face me. Demand he explain in what world he thought this behaviour was okay - but my pride was stronger than my anger. I shoved the awaiting helmet down hard, clicking the visor in place with a slice. Leg swinging over the seat, I settled behind him, the fabric of my skirt riding so high I might as well have not been wearing anything at all.
The frigid morning air bit at my bare thighs, goosebumps rising instantly but I ignored the cold. The sting of being dismissed lit a fire in me hotter than the chill. I gripped the bar behind me instead of wrapping my arms around him, holding myself in place as he took off slowly.
Only just before we pulled out onto the road, he stopped, turning back with his visor raised, his laser focus deadly. I lifted my own visor with more force than necessary, mad as hell.
“What?” I caught the exact moment his eyes landed on the bare skin of my legs, how the anger in his expression flickered, twisting into something lascivious.
“You need to hold on.” He spoke with authority, his gaze fixed on the apex of my thighs, where the hem of my skirt likely betrayed the red briefs underneath.
The commanding edge in his voice did unspeakable things to me, my body all but vibrating in response but there was no way I was letting this emotional whiplash slide. Whatever had crawled under his skin had nothing to do with me and I sure as hell didn’t deserve his disrespect.
So, I pushed back.
“I am holding on.”
Boldly, I let my knees drift wider, casually leaning into the bar behind me like being close to him was the last thing I wanted. And if I hadn’t been watching his face so closely, I might’ve missed it - the slight parting of his lips, the flicker in his eyes, the way his spine went rigid, and his throat worked around a swallow. When his gaze finally lifted to mine, I met it head on, daring him to see just how unaffected I was. Even if the goosebumps tracing my skin had nothing to do with the cold anymore and everything to do with him.
“Hold on tome!” He demanded, before turning back and reefing me forward by my thighs. My arms flew around him instinctively, my already sensitive groin getting the slightest edge of friction from where it met the back of his jeans. The moanfrom my throat was involuntary, my body suddenly alive, my thighs scorching where he still held me firmly in each hand.
He was stiff, no doubt having heard my mortifying response to the meeting of our bodies and now probably wishing he’d told me to make my own way to work. I gripped the leather of his jacket in both hands, eager to adjust myself. Desperate to push him away but just as desperate to scream all the questions swirling in my mind about his cuts and bruises, his sudden animosity and that fucking kiss.
Though, all rational thought disintegrated the moment his fingers dug into my thighs with a grip so firm I was certain he’d leave bruises sending electric sparks ricocheting from my centre outward.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
With the idling vibration of the bike underneath, the proximity of leather and the heat of his hands, I was losing the battle not to wrap my legs around his torso. I was close to unashamedly grinding myself against him until I came - which given how turned on I already was from the brief touch of his body on mine, wouldn’t be long.
Releasing my hold on his jacket, I tried to give myself space only his grip on my thighs tightened.
“Cooper,” I gritted, doing my best to keep my voice free from the desperation I was feeling. “I’m fine holding onto the bar.” Ineededto hold onto it in case I embarrassed myself any further the second he began to ride. As it was, my body was raring to go, my frustration and confusion morphing into lust within the space of two seconds.
He loosened his grip on my thighs, and just as I thought he was giving me space, he shifted in the seat, his hips deliberately moving against the aching heat between my legs. His hands slid wider, fingers splaying across my skin like it was their right. This time, I couldn’t stop the audible groan to the man above as my body thrummed with need, my anger seemingly forgotten. I knewright then and there that if I looked down, my panties would be wet.
“Fuck,” his voice took on a husky edge. Making it very clear that he knew what he was doing, and it was affecting him just as much as me. The sharp rise and fall of his shoulders evidenced his laboured breathing. I wanted to run my hands underneath his jacket, to trace the ridges and planes of his back.
“You need to stop.” He gritted, his voice pleading but quiet enough that I almost missed it.
“Youneed to stop.” My pushback sounded reluctant even to my own ears and at his silence, I wondered what he was thinking. Whether his lips would be pursed in the same way they always were when he was concentrating or if his brows would be pinched into a scowl like they did when he was confused.
In an act which took far more willpower than I thought possible, I moved my arms to circle his waist again. Deliberately, I tightened my grip, overlapping my hands across his abdomen and noting the subtle tension that rippled through his body.
“I wish I could.” He confessed in a whisper, every muscle of my body primed. Turning my face to press lightly against the cool leather of his jacket, I exhaled deeply as he kicked the stand and gunned the throttle, the bike roaring down the street as I clung to him as though my life depended on it.
It wasn’t until we pulled into the parking lot at work that I finally loosened my grip and untangled myself from around him. I’d been dreading what he might say, bracing for the awkwardness after I’d so obviously enjoyed the morning’s events, but I needn’t have bothered. The moment I removed my helmet, he was already halfway to the distillery doors, striding off without so much as a backward glance.
CHAPTER 21
Eva
EVA
Is it okay if I ask you a question?
The sight of my brother’s name flashing across the top of my phone made me smile for the first time today. He was predictable if nothing else and I should have known he would call rather than reply via text like a normal person.
