“I will mom, tell dad I stopped by but I’ll see him later.” I walk out of the front door, closing it behind me. Raiden is sitting on my bike, his toned legs straddling the seat as he stretches his arms high above his head. He’s a vision.
No.I can’t think like that. Not about him. Not now.
“You ready?” I ask, offering the helmet to him and watchinghim slip it over his head. The face shield is pulled up so I can see his lips form a grimace as he situates it over his head.
“Here,” I pull the helmet back off his head gently, trying not to pull too hard and hurt his neck. I tug on the hair tie holding his hair back, watching as the strands fall into place, surrounding his face in a halo of auburn. “That might make it more comfortable.” I slide the helmet back on his head, waiting for him to get situated. When he’s done, I fasten the chin strap, making it tight enough if anything were to happen it would protect his head.
My fingers graze the column of his throat, brushing against his Adam’s Apple as I tuck the strap into place. He swallows, the knot in his throat bumping against my hand.
I slap the side of his helmet, smirking at the mock glare he tries to give me but I push the visor down to protect his eyes before I straddle the bike and pull my own helmet on.
His hands wrap around my waist, dainty fingers digging into my lower stomach. I tense at the feeling, a bolt of arousal shooting through me from the pressure so close to the top of my jeans. His body is pressed up against mine, and every breath that saws out of him reverberates through me.
This was a horrible idea. I almost call the whole thing off as my dick hardens in my pants against the zipper.
I push those thoughts away, trying to focus on ones that won’t turn me on.
I’m reciting the twenty-fifth president’s name by the time I feel in control enough to ride.
I knock the kickstand up, and Raiden flinches against me. I smooth my hand over the back of his, feeling the knobs of his knuckles from how hard he’s holding on to me.
I squeeze his hand tight before we take off down the road.
18
JERICHO
We stop in front of the Carpenter’s house, and I park the bike along the curb. I wait for Raiden to step off the bike, but he’s frozen behind me. I thought we were going to wreck coming around the curve because his body didn’t move an inch when I needed him to follow my lead. I can’t blame him though, I should have explained what his job was riding behind me.
I peel my helmet off and look over my shoulder at him. He’s still tense, holding on around my waist like I’m his lifeline and he’s about to drift out from shore. I rub my palm across his hand, trying to loosen the grip he has on me.
“Come on, Raiden. We need to get off for a minute and walk around.”
He shakes his head, the heavy weight of the helmet distorts his movements and he mumbles something beneath the shield.
“I can’t hear you. Take off your helmet and we can talk.” Another shake of his head and his fingers dig into my stomach harder, refusing to budge an inch. I exhale, giving up the fight.
My phone vibrates in my front pocket, but I can’t move an inch away from Raiden with the tight band he has across me.
“I need to answer that, it could be important. What if it was Queen Elizabeth the Second calling to tell me I’m actually her long lost son and I’m inheriting a lot of money?”
He says something again, and then I can see his annoyed eye roll. He moves his head closer to me, almost until the hard plastic is against my nose. I’m going cross eyed trying to look at him.
Raiden keeps staring and understanding finally dawns on me. I lift my hand and slowly tilt back the visor, showing his pinched together cheeks, slightly flushed and his red swollen lips. He was probably biting on them the whole ride over here, I’m surprised he didn’t break the sensitive skin.
“Queen Elizabeth the Second is dead,” he deadpans, not looking amused in the slightest.
“What if it was Charles then?” My phone has stopped vibrating by now, and if it really was an emergency, whoever it was will call right back or leave a message.
His nose scrunches up and I laugh at the affronted look on his face. “After everything he did to Princess Diana, you would answer his call?”
“For a couple million dollars, probably.”
“When you put it like that..” His grip on me slowly starts to loosen the more he talks, so I keep him talking,
“Would you not take a call from Charles if he was on the other end promising you millions of dollars? You could even be aPrince.” I dramatize the word, flicking a nonexistent lock of hair over my shoulder.
His smile is warm and his eyes twinkle in the fading light of the day.
