Maddox adds, “And a couple of races.”
CHAPTER
TWO
MADDOX
The jackass isn’t getting out of coming to the race with us. We’ve had this photoshoot planned with Sloane for months now, hell, maybe even a year. The woman is booked out so far, and she’s on the verge of popping. Not really. She has a couple of months left in her pregnancy, but I’m sure her pack of literal guard dogs will have her resting and not lifting a finger months before she’s due to have that kiddo.
Marley and I may be unsociable, but Zander is on a whole different level. Since Ashley passed and he became a single father, we have to literally drag him out of the house. If it weren’t for his parents practically begging Marley and me to get him out, and them taking Kali for a sleepover, we would probably all just sulk here with him. But his mom has been nothing but adamant that we keep him living the life we had before everything happened six years ago… today.
And as hard as it’s been on all of us losing Ashley, we’ve never wavered from being right beside him every step he’s taken, and that’s never going to change.
I pull my full-face helmet over my head, strapping the loop through its chin buckle. We’re outside Zander’s house getting ready to head over to the track. Marley whistles, cat-calling melike she always does from beside her pink, neon glowing Ducati. Zander just pulled his helmet on and is standing in front of me, practically begging me to tell him he doesn’t have to ride on the back.
The Bluetooth in his helmet connects to ours, and I joke, “She can’t hold your big ass up, plus she has no rider seat… You’re stuck with me, Big Boy.”
“Marleyyyy, can’t I just drive your bike and you backpack with your husband?!”
“And miss the opportunity to see two hot men in full-face helmets on a bike together?” She huffs a laugh. “Fuck no.” She lies back on her bike, propping her feet up on her gas tank.
“It won’t be that long of a ride, Zan, come on.” I stick my hand out and nod my head to the foot stand on the back of the bike for him to climb up.
Marley’s voice echoes through the comms again, encouraging Zander more. “Come on, get up there. I need to appreciate the goods before we take off. Don’t want to wreck my new baby here.” She’s running her hands down the side of the bike, laughing. Her light pink French braids run down both sides of her chest, all the way up to the pink devil horns on her helmet.
I’ve never seen anything hotter than that woman—my fucking wife—on a sports bike, in riding leathers.
Her ass in those pants should be outlawed, truly.
The moment Zander’s hand lands in mine, it’s like the sparks from our past light back up. If I’m honest, they’ve never gone away for me; they’ve been dim but never fully gone out. Senior year on a dare, we kissed… if you can call what we did just kissing. There was a lot of heavy petting and dry humping, and it was that moment that I knew I swung for both teams. I’ve explored with a few other guys, but no one ever lit my stomach up with fireworks like my best friend.
A grunt and groan later, and he’s behind me, adjusting to the way-too-tiny seat. “Rack my balls into this tank and you’ll fly off the front,” I threaten.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he whispers back, and the smile lining my lips says it all.
“I wouldn’t… but hold on. You never have people ride with you, so you don’t know how bad a quick stop is to the nuts.”
The moan that leaves Marley has my cock waking up. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.” And the fact that it’s Zander and I that’s causing her to moan like that, is the icing on the cake.
Zander’s hands wrap around my waist as we take off toward the track, and my mind goes to the happy place that it always floats to when I’m close to this man. I don’t like to stay there long, but hearing him joking and laughing in the comms with Marley, I know for a fact this is what we’re supposed to be.
The three of us.
Together.
There for one another, always.
CHAPTER
THREE
MARLEY
Ilook down at my bike and smirk before twisting my hand roughly against the throttle. The obnoxious sound roars around us, and a giggle escapes me as I turn my head to the left and see both Maddox and Zander shaking their heads at me. The other bikers around us—buddies from the meet-up group we found through social media—follow in suit. Nobody expects the girl with the pink bike, helmet, and hair to be the most competitive… but they’re dead wrong.
Boys and their toys,I think.Too bad I’m about to make these boys my toys.
The thought makes more giggles pour out of my mouth.
