“Not a chance. I want to take you out. Show you a good time. We haven’t been out without Adele. I love my baby girl, but you’re important, too.”
Warmth spreads through me. “For someone who doesn’t do relationships, you’re really good at saying the right thing.”
He snags a helmet from the handlebars and places it on my head. “Only for you, sweetness.”
“Stop being perfect. I want my ride on a motorcycle.”
He smirks. “You think I’m perfect.”
Yes, I do. But Zane Raider has a big enough ego as it is. I’m not inflating it.
I try to tie the helmet strap but he bats my hands away. “I’ve got it.”
He secures the strap before kissing my nose. He puts on his helmet and straddles the bike. It’s a good thing I wore panties tonight because they’re wet after that sexy move.
“Put your foot…”
I wave away his directions. I haven’t been on the back of a bike before but I know how to get on one. I’ve watched my mother hop on a bike and ride off into the sunset enough times.
Once I’m settled, Zane takes my hands and wraps them around his waist. “Hold on tight.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I’m holding onto him as tight as I can. For as long as I can.
He switches on the motor and I can feel the vibrations coursing through my body. I’m enjoying this ride already, and we haven’t even left the driveway.
“Ready?”
I squeeze his waist. “Ready.”
I expect him to shoot out of the driveway and down the road. I’ve seen him do it enough times in the past. But he gentlydrives to the end of the driveway before slowly driving down the street.
“Faster!”
He nods, but he doesn’t increase our speed.
“Zane, faster.”
He goes a tiny bit faster. We can now pass people walking but not any runners. This is ridiculous.
“I want to go faster.” It’s a good thing these helmets are linked up with microphones. Otherwise, I would have lost my voice already from yelling at him to speed the hell up.
“I don’t want to hit Sammy.”
“Sammy isn’t out and about in January and you know it. It’s entirely too cold for him to be up to his old tricks.”
Sammy is a seal that decided to make Smuggler’s Hideaway his home. He enjoys sunbathing in the middle of the road and planting himself in front of people’s doors so they can’t get out of their houses.
“I’m being careful. I have precious cargo on my bike today.”
I sigh. How can I complain about how slow we’re going now?
“This precious cargo wants to drive faster than a golf cart.”
He waits until we’ve left the town limits of Smuggler’s Rest to speed up. It’s enough to feel the wind whip along my body.
“Whoo-hoo!”
He chuckles. “You enjoy being on the back of my bike.”
