“So, any other recommendations?”
“There’s a burger joint you should check out and a pizzeria. What we lack in bars, we make up for with great food. Which is my secondary love, after craft beer.”
Our connection was broken by tires squealing against the pavement. We both turned to look, watching a white SUV cruise by.
“God damn it, Kelsey!” Gwen swore, turning beet red as she watched her friend drive away. Spinning around, she headed for the exit to the street while she wrestled her phone from her clutch. She paused abruptly, reading something on her phone, her wild hair falling like a curtain, veiling the expression on her face.
“Hey, if you want, I could give you a lift,” I told her, the words escaping before I could call them back. She turned slowly to look at me, her phone still in her hand.
“You could be a rapist slash murderer,” she pointed out, arching a brow. “A very attractive one, and an honourable way to die, but I digress.” She placed a hand on her hip, jutting it out.
I grinned, my eyes crinkling as I laughed lowly. “You could be a rapist slash murderer, too.” I took a step toward her. She watched me, her eyes darkening with need.
Shaking her head, another smile graced her red lips. The small silver hoop in her left nostril glinted beneath the streetlights, and she exhaled. “All right, I accept your offer for a ride home. But know that I have a vicious attack dog.”
“Noted.” With a nod, I led the way to my 1989 Heritage Softail Classic. I bought it when I was nineteen and worked on it with my dad, restoring it to its original glory, and continued improving it every year since then. I’d almost had to sell it a handful of times, but I somehow always managed to hang on to it. Next to my daughter, it was my pride and joy. I loved the open road, the wind in my hair.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she said, her mouth agape. “A motorcycle?”
“You okay with that?” Most women melted for motorcycles, but there was the odd one who was terrified of them.
“Oh, absolutely.” She nodded decisively, her eyes sparkling as I pulled out the spare matte half helmet from my saddlebag and stepped toward her. Clearly, she fell into the first category. I helped her put it on, adjusting the straps and brushing her hair from her face. I felt her intake of breath and stepped away, grabbing my regular helmet from the other bag.
I mounted, holding the bike upright. “Climb on.” Tentatively, Gwen swung her leg over and gripped my shoulders for balance while she settled behind me. The warmth of her body was a tangible promise that I wanted to keep, at least for tonight.
“Wait!” she said when I went to turn the key. “How am I supposed to give you directions?”
“Shout out the address, and I’ll put it in the GPS,” I replied, turning my chin to look at her over my shoulder. The tops of her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Right,” she said woodenly, clearing her throat before adding, “Wellington Street.”
I typed it in, then turned the key, the bike roaring and rumbling to life beneath me.
Gwen frantically gripped the arms of my jacket. I took her hands in mine, pulling them so that they rested on my stomach.
“Hold on,” I told her, pushing the kickstand up with my work boot and walking the bike forward a little, checking behind us to make sure it was clear. It was late, and there were hardly any cars, but I still used extra caution as I pulled onto the road.
We took off, the powerful machine vibrating between both our thighs. I leaned with the bike, bending into the turn, and Gwen’s hands tightened against my torso, sending a jolt straight to my cock. Gritting my teeth, I did my best to ignore the way it felt to have her against me.
It wasn’t a far drive, and within six minutes, I was stopping outside of her apartment building. Gwen slid off, unbuckling the helmet. She held it in her hands for a moment, looking at it. I kicked the stand down with my toe and lifted my leg over.
Taking the helmet from her, I put it back in the saddlebag and looked around. Her complex seemed a little dodgy at night, and I didn’t like the idea of her walking alone.
“Mind if I walk you up?” I asked, deciding to base my chivalrousness on her comfort level. If she still thought I could be a rapist slash murderer, she’d take her chances walking through the parking lot alone.
“Sure,” she said, smiling, leading the way to the heavy glass door. We walked up one flight of stairs before she paused at the first door on the right side of the old, beige hallway. “Thanks for the ride home.”
“My pleasure,” I replied, giving her a crooked smile.
Pulling the keys from her clutch, Gwen opened her door and paused in the doorway, her eyes drinking me in. She bit her lip, considering me. “This is going to sound crazy, and I really hope you don’t judge me but…did you want to come in, maybe?”
“I’m not sure, Gwen.” I raked my fingers through my hair and inhaled slowly, trying to ignore the ache deep within my balls that her invitation had evoked. “I want to—don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous, and I haven’t been able to stop looking at you all night—but I’m not in a good place for a relationship right now.”
Her expression softened, and she smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said, stepping toward me. “I’m not in a good place for a relationship, either. I’m sort of on anI hate all menkick.”
“Why is that?” I laughed, wondering how a girl like her got to a place like that, relating to her a little, too. Only, in my case, I didn’t hate women. I just wasn’t sure if I’d ever trust one again. Better to keep them at a distance.
“The story is long and boring and probably doesn’t make me look very desirable, so I think I’ll keep it to myself.” She adjusted her glasses as she spoke.
