Yet the heat of his back bleeding into my chest, my palms spread over his abs, gives me a sense of belonging I’ve never known. As if this is the exact place where I should be—as illogical as that sounds.
And itisillogical. Yes, sex with Yulian is the best sex I’ve ever had, but that’s just sex.
Or is it?
Because I don’t think it’s only the physical contact that’s slowly but surely turning me into a sex addict.
Or more like a Yulian addict.
He finally slows down, but only because he’s driving toward a rest area. “Need some fuel.”
“Of course you do after you burned it all with the irresponsible speed.”
He slows to a halt in front of one of the slots, and I release a breath, sagging against him.
While I don’t think I minded the ride at the end, that was definitely too reckless for my liking.
“Uh, baby?” His voice filters in the empty silence. “I’d love to have you all pressed up to me all night long, but I kind of need to get some fuel. Just give me one minute flat, and I’ll be done.”
Fuck.
I shove away from him and swing off the bike, my legs not entirely steady. He catches my arm to keep me upright.
“Easy. Takes time to get used to it.”
“I’m fine.” I swat him off. “Just needed to catch my breath.”
Yulian strips off his helmet, his hair damp and wild, tossing it like he knows just how lethal the sight is. His leather jacket strains over cut muscle, his jeans riding low,his boots planted firm. He looks straight out of a damn commercial. Rugged, masculine, and devastatingly…stunning.
“Catching your breath from how hot I look?” He props his chin in the crook of his thumb and finger, grinning.
I remove my helmet and hit him with it across the chest. “From how irresponsibly you drive.”
“Nah, come on, the whole point of having this baby is to drive her fast.” He strokes the bike ever so lovingly.
I narrow my eyes. “It’s a motorcycle.”
“Duh.” He clutches the helmet, but I don’t release it.
“A motorcycle isn’t a real person, Yulian.”
“Yeah…and?”
“And you shouldn’t call itbaby.”
He laughs so loud, he topples over with it. The sound is contagious, but I shove him again, this time yanking the helmet from him and placing it on the bike.
“It’s notthatfunny,” I say, trying to sound stern, but really, I could watch him laugh all day.
He wipes the corner of his eye with the glove. “It is funny to see you jealous of my bike.”
“I’mnotjealous.”
“Might need to hide her before you set her on fire like poor Zver.”
“It’s anit, not aher.”
“You’re so jealous, you look like you’ll burst into flames.” He chuckles again, flicking me on the nose. “You’re so fucking adorable.”
