He’s been in a particularly good mood since I agreed to this, and he flashes me one of his charming smiles. “I get it. You’ve got a priceless tennis bod. I wouldn’t dream of putting you in danger any more than I’d risk breaking my own wrist.”
That does make me feel a bit better.
A woman rolls up with our bike, a gorgeous blue Suzuki sports bike that I picked on the website earlier. She’s got on a leather jacket and a helmet, which she pulls off as she dismounts the motorcycle.
“Should be all set,” she says and gives us both a reluctant smile. “And if you don’t mind, I just wanted to say it’s cool that you’re here. Lost Storm rules. And I thought it was weird that you married a tennis guy, but now that I see you two together, I think I get it.”
Gabriel lays a hand on my shoulder and leans on me. “Cool. Want a photo?” he asks her, snapping my attention back to the reason we’re here in the first place.
It’s a fake date. I just happen to be enjoying it.
The woman is eager, of course, and we pose for a couple of shots before it’s finally time to ride. I make Gabriel go over the basics with me even though I know them, and when he kicks the motor on, I realize how excited I am.
Maybe there can be a little room for this kind of thing in my life. Every now and then.
Gabriel hops on first, his legs wide as he straddles the rumbling machine. “You ready?” he calls out, looking at me over his shoulder. “And I promise not too fast.”
I climb behind him. “Sure,” I yell. “But not too slow either.”
Gabriel laughs as I put on my helmet. Our bodies slide together, and my hands naturally land at his hips. The warmth of his weight is nice, comforting, and the throbbing engine quickly earns a reaction from my dick.
I shift my weight back, giving us space.
But my body aches with how much it wants to press to him.
Gabriel reaches back and pats my thigh. “Here we go.”
A thrill shoots up my spine as we accelerate. Gabriel lets out a hoot, yelling with joy. The speed forces me to lean into him as we cruise down the dirt track.
A surprising sense of freedom hits me. It’s like being out after curfew or something. Gabriel steers us smoothly, and I’m immediately confident in his driving.
I let my hands slide up closer to his chest, holding him. “Faster,” I yell, not even sure if he can hear me, but he quickly accelerates. “Faster,” I yell again, and I can feel him laugh as we speed into another loop.
It’s just as good as I thought a motorcycle ride would be. The thrill is just as pure and visceral.
And holding Gabriel tight? Having an excuse to squeeze him?
It turns out I like that a lot, too.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
GABRIEL
I didn’t just marrya jock. I married a fucking muscle machine.
I’m in Spencer’s home gym, working my biceps. It’s my usual routine, hard enough to burn and make me sweat, but it’s nothing compared to the intense workout Spencer powers through. He’s doing squats now, the thick ropes of his thigh muscles taut, and his brow is furrowed and his jaw set in pure focus.
Fuck, he’s hot.
If I was going to go and corner myself in a fake marriage, I could've made it easier on myself and not chosen someone so hot. My dick gets fat in my cutoff sweatpants, and I force myself to turn my eyes away so I don’t get caught staring at his ass again.
Before I came to Boston, I kept wanting to text Spencer. Nothing important, just something I would see that made me think of him. A bad joke someone told me at the studio that I knew would make him groan, stuff like that. For two weeks, lost in my music all day and all night, I kept looking forward to this trip, wondering what his house was like, how he was filling his time.
I’m glad to see it’s pretty much as expected. His condo is nearly minimalist with all the carefully arranged furniture and precooked meals, not to mention the perfectly tidy surfaces and impeccably clean bathroom.
But it makes sense to me. Spencer is a true athlete, and his home is set up to reflect the laser focus he’s honed over the years.
That’s why it felt so good to get him out on a motorcycle last night. There might be an expiration date on this marriage, but if I can get the guy to loosen up and enjoy himself, I’ll feel like I made good use of our time together.
