She gives me another yank—sadly not in the way I’d like her to yank me. “And you won’t speed or drive too fast, right?”
I release one of her arms to put my palm over my heart. “I promise I won’t drive too fast.”
Gaze raking over every inch of my face, she nods, the movement growing more vigorous until the helmet bobbles on top of her head comically.
Shouldn’t have put the helmet on so soon. I can’t kiss her through the visor opening, and I’d fucking love to kiss her right now. To help her calm down or give her something else to focus on. And for absolutely no other reason.
Mental Morgan Freeman clears his throat.And now our hero has returned to his natural state of being a delusional asshole.
Dammit. He’s back.
I widen my eyes at Lila. “You ready?”
She exhales a puff of air and rolls her shoulders back. “Yep. Let’s do it before I chicken out.”
“Atta girl.” I turn away slowly. “I’ll get on first and start her up. Then you climb on behind me. Toss your leg over the back.”
“Duh, Reed. Although I’m terrified of motorcycles, I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen movies.”
Adorable. Especially when her saccharine facade breaks.
I get my girl humming—the bike, not Lila. The vibrations rumble through me, giving me that familiar thrilling spike.
Thisis my joy.
Despite the earlier innuendo in the restaurant in response to Lila’s question, riding is what I do to enjoy life.
It’s probably stupid macho shit, but I don’t give a fuck. Controlling this powerful machine makes me feel alive. The wind whipping across my skin. The electrifying hum of the engine that I hearandfeel. Using my entire body to lean into each turn, almost becoming one with the bike.
It’s freedom. And I fucking love it.
For tonight only, I get to share it with a woman who’s been implanted in my head for what seems like ages.
I beckon Lila over with a tip of my head. “I’m all ready for you, cookie.”
Dutifully, she trudges over, grumbling to herself with each step. “Why didn’t we pick a restaurant within walking distance?”
An idea hits me before she slings her leg over, so I stop her. “Do you have your phone on you?”
Not sure why I asked. Who leaves home without their phone anymore? Nobody, that’s who.
“Why?”
“I’ll connect our helmets so we can hear each other while we drive. Make it discoverable for me.”
Eying me with intensity, she drifts her hand toward the slim purse slung across her chest to retrieve the device. I just grin at her. Eventually, she lowers her eyes to swipe across the screen.
Before she turns on the Bluetooth, she cuts a glare at me. One totally at odds with her typical sweetness. “If you’re trying to do some secret FBI hacker stuff, I’ll never forgive you.”
I put my hands up. “I’m not. Honest. Just want to talk to you through the helmet to keep you calm.”
However, I wish I’d thought of that earlier so I could have set something like that up. Probably would have if I were more focused on the mission.
She taps the screen once more. “Fine.”
On my screen, I search for her device. Once it comes up, a braying guffaw races up from the depths of my gut.
“Zip it,” she huffs, stomping the rest of the way to the bike.
