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Whoever that was had just run a red light right in front of the cops.

What the hell.

I looked at the cops, who immediately stepped on the gas, but just then a logging truck blocked their path, and traffic backed up at the intersection. That was the moment the light turned green.

Driven by curiosity, confusion, and bewilderment, I didn't hesitate for long and twisted the throttle, turning left as well.

I accelerated, looking around for any cops, but the road remained empty, so I kept speeding up, passing a few of the cars in front of me on the broken yellow line until I spotted the other biker a hundred meters ahead.

I knew the bikers in this town. No one else in the pack rode motorcycles. Just a few wimps from high school and university, and a few older bikers who occasionally met in the parking lot in front of Lola's Diner or at Misty Point in the Harbor District. The people I occasionally raced against were from Vancouver.

So, who the fuck else was out on the streets here besides me?

I quickly caught up and the biker looked over at me.

My gaze wandered down the bike. A luxury bike. To be precise, a Ducati Panigale V4 Speciale.

Damn, this bike was one of the best and wasn't even on the market yet, just like mine.

I wanted to inspect it further while simultaneously concentrating on the road ahead, but my gaze lingered on the seat of the Ducati model, or rather on the well-shaped ass that was nestled against the motorcycle.

God damn it. The rider was a woman.

She was wearing black boots and black jeans, like me, which sat perfectly tight, as did her leather jacket. And she arched her back slightly to sit ideally.

Goosebumps spread across my arms under my hoodie, and I felt the blood rush to my cock.

She looked at me, seeming to eye me up as well.

With the index and middle fingers of her left hand, she pointed to the ground before putting both hands back on the handlebars and glancing forward briefly as we passed Lola's Diner.

Even though she couldn't see it, I had to smile and returned the wave. A biker's greeting.

Inevitably, my gaze slid back to the rest of her body, losing itself in her curves, and the need to stay with her spread through me, overwhelming me.

She pointed to the road ahead, and I knew immediately what she wanted.

My smile intensified, and I rolled on the throttle. Just like her.

You want a race? Then you've picked the right guy, baby.

An SUV was driving ahead of us, so we split up, passing it on both sides, before shooting down the road.

It looked like she headed for Vanderwood, which triggered another wave of euphoria in me.

The biker didn't wait any longer, sped up, shot past me, took advantage of the broken yellow line, and raced away.

I felt challenged, twisted the throttle, and shot after her, almost taking out the side mirror of an oncoming car in the process.

She was fast. Very fast. Nevertheless, I managed to catch up within seconds and shoot past her.

I playfully raised my hand in her direction, hoping to provoke her a little before winning the race.

But completely unexpectedly, she did a wheelie and... jumped with both feet onto the back of her motorcycle as she accelerated and caught up, standing.

I stared in amazement.

Who in the world was this woman? And why had I never noticed her before? Was she a second-semester student who had just moved to Blairville?