“Your cat hates travel.”
“My cat hates existence.”
“You needed a ride.”
“I needed a safe, climate-controlled ride with cup holders and emotional distance.”
His gaze moved over my helmet, my face, my mouth. Slowly enough to make my skin tighten. “You got me instead.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s the complaint.”
The light changed.
His mouth curved.
“Hold on, scientist.”
“I am holding on.”
“Better.”
Then he opened the throttle.
The bike surged forward, and my body slammed tight against his. My arms locked around him, thighs clenching instinctively, chest pressed so firmly to his back there was no pretending he couldn’t feel every traitorous inch of me.
Mason’s hand covered mine for one brief second, hard and warm.
I heard him laugh.
The bastard.
I tucked my helmet against his shoulder and smiled where he couldn’t see it.
Not because I was enjoying this.
Absolutely not.
I was simply gathering data.
Very thorough, inconvenient, dangerously compelling data.
CHAPTER 8
MASON
The second hertits settled against my back I knew the next three hundred miles were going to be pure torture.
No bra. Thin cotton already damp from the morning heat. And those nipples—hard, tight, unmistakable—pressed into me like they’d been waiting for an excuse. She went rigid, mortified, probably praying the helmet would swallow her whole.
I felt every inch of it. The soft weight of her. The way her breath caught. The faint tremor that ran through her arms when she realized I wasn’t moving away.
I should have said something smart. Teased her. Let her keep that sharp little shield she wore like armor.
Instead I started the bike.
The engine roared to life and the low, heavy rumble rolled straight up through the frame. I felt the exact moment it hit her. Her thighs clamped down hard around my hips. A tiny, broken sound slipped out of her—half surprise, half raw need—and she tried to bury it inside the helmet. Her fingers dug into my stomach like she was anchoring herself against a storm.
She was wet. Soaked. I couldn’t feel it directly but I didn’t need to. The way she shifted, the way her breath stuttered against my shoulder blade, the way her whole body melted andtightened at the same time told me everything. It had been a long damn time for her. Her body was starving and the vibration was feeding it right against my back.
