I glance around, admiring the quiet streets, the sun just barely peeking up from the horizon. When I swing back to her, I ask, "Do you often go on dates at 6:30 in the morning?"
She narrows her eyes at me, then swallows and relaxes. "Well, no."
"And let's not forget that this wasyouridea."
"Uh huh."
"Not to mention, the city still being dark at the ass-crack of dawn gives more danger than ambience, don't you think?" She rolls her eyes and swings her arms over her chest. "I'm just trying to be a nice guy here, Brooke."
In perfect timing, a drunk with long matted hair stumbles down the street across from us, waving and singing some sort of show tune. I finish my sentence with my body turned toward him. "But if you'd like to walk out alone, by all means, be my guest."
When I spin back around, Brooke's hand is falling from where it was lifted, waving. "For your information, that is Frank, and he is a very nice guy." I clench my teeth, more bothered than I should be. "And I can handle myself, thank you very much."
A scoff slips through my lips, and I hold my hands up in surrender.
"Can we just get going?" Brooke asks, her eyes wandering behind me. "Where's your driver?"
I stare at her blankly. "Mydriver?"
She widens her eyes as if to say,duh,and I smirk. "I'm a big boy, Brooke. I can get myself where I need to be."
Her head pulls back in surprise, but this interaction is nothing I'm not used to. "Okay, where's your car then?"
My smile grows bigger. I turn around, walk down the steps, and cross the sidewalk to my bike. Picking up my helmet, I perch myself on the seat and tap the spot next to me. "You ready, Larkin?"
Brooke stares at me, her arms slipping back down to her sides, her face no longer in shock or annoyed. No, I've seen that look before.Fuck me, this girl is turned on.
She descends the stairs slowly, only speaking when her feet hit the sidewalk. "We're riding around on this thing all day?"
I nod definitively. "You wanted a day in my life."
Pulling on my helmet, I turn, reaching into my backpack and producing hers. I hand it to her, sliding the straps of my now empty bag over my shoulder, then swing my leg around so I'm sitting on the front end of the bike. Brooke doesn't move. I start the engine, and it roars to life, as I look back at her. "Don't want to be late."
She licks her lips, rolling them in on each other, then tucks her hair behind her ears and slips the helmet on. "These things aren't considered safe, ya know," she warns, placing her hands on my shoulder and hoisting herself on as if she's done it a million times before. It hits me that she's trying to convince herself more than me considering her movement tells me this also isn'therfirst time.
I don't answer right away, my brain misfiring from having my mystery girl tight against me, her legs straddling mine for the first time in too long. I wait expectantly for her arms to slide around me, but when they don't come, I realize she's waiting for my answer.
I blink hard, bringing myself back to the question, then turn over my shoulder.
"I can handle myself, thank you very much."
"So, what's first?" Brooke asks, handing me her helmet. Her cheeks are a nice rosy pink, and her chest is rising with each short breath. Either she's cold even in her black leather jacket with a thick sweater underneath, or she's just as fucking flustered from that ride as I am.
No one's ever been on the back of my bike. There was never a situation where that would even make sense. My teammates and I are tight, but I don't want their husky thighs wrapped around mine, and if I'm ever with a girl, it's because we're on a date I didn't plan or she's coming home with me—neither of which warrant the opportunity to sit their ass on my seat. But I didn't think twice about taking it today. With her.
This is my usual morning. My typical routine. My daily ride. I didn't think to switch it up just because Brooke would be with me, which says something. But holy shit, I should have prepared myself.
Brooke's clearly comfortable on the back of a bike. She didn't startle when we hit a bump or awkwardly clasp her hands in front of me, and she knew just the right angle to lean to when I made a sharp turn. Just those thoughts alone turned me on. Add in that she applied just the right amount of pressure to the outside of my thighs and that her hands dropped into my lap every time we hit a red light, and I'm surprised she couldn't feel my excitement through my sweats.Unless she could.
It took everything in me not to graze her calf when we came to a crosswalk or drop my hand to her knee when I was cruising down an open street. But I'm trying my best to stop putting moves on her. At least for now. At least until she stops fighting it.
"Back and bis," I say, shaking my head of what I'd rather be doing and setting both helmets on my seat. "Then a little breakfast, and there's film before on-ice this morning."
Brooke purses her lips as we head toward the entrance. "Not as exciting as I thought it would be."
I look over at her, noticing how her heeled boots only accentuate the legs I'm still dreaming of being wrapped around me in a whole different way since the ride over here.
"Who knew Drew Anderson was so… normal?" She smirks, but her words hit me harder than she means them to.
