And with that ominous warning, Rory hangs up on me.
Rory’s motorcycle roars into my driveway right on time Tuesday afternoon. I haven’t seen her since the night she stayed over.
Princess barks once and then wags her tail.
“Sorry, girl, you’re staying behind today.” My heart races as I lock the door behind me with both excitement over seeing my pretend fiancée and nerves for trying to squeeze money out of my brother.
I stride out to meet Rory, who kills her engine and takes her helmet off, but doesn’t dismount. Her hair is in those two braids again and she’s wearing her leather jacket over a white, tight top.
Watching Rory on a bike is pretty goddamn hot.
She reaches behind her and unlatches a second helmet. “Here.”
I stare at it. “We’re taking your bike?”
She shrugs. “Sure. Why not? Unless you don’t like motorcycles.”
“You do realize that your ass plus my crotch plus vibrations equals boners, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “Get on, loser.”
Rory always seems to think I’m joking. “Did you just quote Mean Girls to me? That’s a hidden depth I didn’t know you had in you.”
Rory ignores me and puts her helmet on, and I follow suit. The engine starts up.
“Can you hear me?” Rory’s voice comes in through the helmet as I sling my leg over the backseat.
“A headset? Cool. Uh . . . how should I hold on?”
Rory reaches back, grabbing both my arms and pulling them around her waist, bringing my chest flush with her back.
Awesome.
“Move with me, okay? When I lean, you lean.”
I sing the chorus to “Da’ Dip” by Freak Nasty but replace the word dip with lean. Rory ignores me and backs us out the driveway.
“Any instructions for me in front of your brother?” she asks. “Am I your fiancée?”
I think about it. “We might as well call you my fiancée. But don’t wear the ring.”
“It’s in my pocket already. I take it off when I’m wearing my gloves.”
Talking is good. It distracts me from thinking about my arms around Rory, her ass nestled into my crotch. “Other than that . . . I don’t know what to expect, really. He won’t want to pay me, and will insist that he doesn’t have the money, but maybe I can get a couple thousand out of him at least.”
It’s wishful thinking. But I won’t know until I try.
The headsets make it easy to tell her where we’re going, and for the most part, I get to enjoy the feel of Rory in my arms and the thrill of riding a motorcycle. It’ll take us about an hour of back-road driving to get to my brother’s place. I don’t know why he moved all the way out here, and I don’t think I want to know. The nearby town is bigger, but it doesn’t have the economy that Here gets thanks to the ski resort, and it’s run-down and tired.
Rory’s a confident driver, but my heart lurches with every bend in the road and it seems like we’re screaming along well above the speed limit, though Rory swears we’re not.
The conversation does cease, so I’m left to my own thoughts, which are wild. Can you have sex on a motorcycle? Would the vibrations travel up my dick, turning it into a vibrator? I should run an experiment. If only I had a willing test subject . . .
There’s no need to announce ourselves when we pull up to the ramshackle place my brother calls home. The bike is loud enough that he comes out, slamming the screen door behind him.
He can’t tell it’s me until I dismount and take my helmet off. Graham smirks. “What the fuck, Morgan? Riding bitch? I knew it.”
I ignore my brother’s jab. “Hey, Graham, good to see you.”
