I watch as she slides her arm into the left sleeve, then the right. It fits perfectly. She spins around slowly so I can see. Fuck. Is it even possible to be more turned on than I was already?
I straddle my seat and start the bike. The engine roars to life.
Angel approaches and I gesture for her to climb on. “Put that sweet ass where it belongs.”
I close my eyes as I feel her slide behind me. Her hands fold over my stomach and she squeezes my hips with her thighs. “I’m ready, Eagle.”
My girl doesn’t know the half of it. How deep this love goes, what I’m willing to do to keep her safe—to keep her on the back of this bike. We get one week of R&R, then I have to get back to work, possibly start a war with the Dead Dogs. Angel is worth every drop of spilled blood, every year a judge might sentence one of the Iron Norsemen to.
We ride down Main Street, waving at our wedding guests as we go by.
“I love you, Eagle,” she says.
“Hold on tight, baby.” Time to get my speed fix, and then I’m going to make love to my wife.
