He laces the strap under my chin, rubbing one of his calloused fingers across my lips. I forget everything as I stare into those stormy eyes. He shakes his head, as if to clear whatever thought was racing through that gorgeous head of his and effortlessly throws a leg over the bike to start it. It roars to life. The rumble thunders off the ground, up through my boots and in between my legs. Who knew a motorcycle could be such a turn on.
I climb on behind Shadow unsure of where to put my hands. I place them behind me first, then on my thighs. He turns to the side with a smile and reaches back. He pulls my arms around his toned waist forcing my body close to his. I can feel his rock hard back against my breasts. My nipples harden on contact. The mixture of pain and pleasure make my breathing quicken and I just want to rip his shirt off and feel his bare chest.
“You have to touch me to ride: but you're safe with me,” he says, snapping me from my X-rated thoughts. “Hold on tight, I like to go fast.” My arms and legs tighten around him as he speeds off. He wasn’t lying when he said he likes to go fast. He said I am safe with him and I feel safe; with his driving that is. Anything else, I am sure he will trample on, like my heart.
The warm breeze caresses my skin. It makes me feel free; independently free. Shadow's scent fills my lungs; I'm not used to his masculine smell. I lay my head against his back and inhale; not knowing if I will ever be this close to him again. His reactions to me are so unpredictable I don’t know what to make of them. He reaches back and rests his hand on the side of my thigh. His touch causes my suspicious thoughts to resurface. Would he just throw me away like a used condom when he is finished with me? Yet even confused, I can't get the thought of having his hands all over my naked body out of my mind. I bet he is dynamite in bed. I'm sure he has been with countless women; just the thought of it makes me uneasy. I don’t know why, he isn't mine to lay claim to. Still the thought makes me want to claw my eyes out. I hate how he affects me, I have never doubted myself before, yet here I am punishing myself for not being the ideal girl for Shadow. I'm probably way too inexperienced for a dangerous man like him.
We pull into a parking lot with a sign that says 'Santa Monica Beach'. A breeze flows over us as we park; it smells salty and wet. It smells like a new beginning. Nothing of the past twenty-four hours would have been allowed into my past life. Nothing has prepared me for this emotional roller coaster. I breathe deep and feel my walls of isolation tumbling down. Looking at the physical beauty of Shadow, my spirits soar.
“The beach? Is this where you take all the girls that climb on the back of your bike?” I tease. I shake my head as I remove the helmet allowing my hair to ripple its way down my shoulder and onto my chest. It doesn’t sit there long as the breeze sweeps it off my chest and slaps it around my face.
“Actually, I have never had a female on the back of my bike before,” he says as he places our helmets on the bike. The expression on his face shows he is both amazed and bewildered by his actions. I look at him in confusion; what did he mean by that, and why was I the first to ride on his bike?
He snaps out of his vulnerable state by running his dexterous fingers through his flawless hair. My fingers twitch at the temptation to grab hold of those gorgeous locks. “Women usually come to me. Besides, if I want a girl I just take her, no questions,” he says assuredly, his tone serious. I roll my eyes and am reminded of why I should stay away from him.
We walk onto the beach. I can feel him staring at my back side as I walk in front of him so I sway my curvaceous hips, taunting him. I hear him literally growl in response, making me bite my lips to stifle my laughter. We sit down on the warm sandy beach within inches of each other. He leans back on his elbows, lifting one hand to ruffle the top of his thick black hair. Goddamn he is sex on a stick, and I want to eat, lick, and touch that stick. My hand burns at the thought of tugging his hair, while our bodies are in a sexual embrace. I shift my position, trying to overcome the throbbing in my panties. Embarrassed, my cheeks flush crimson red. I know he can't read my thoughts, but having such a naughty imagination is totally out of my norm.
“So, are you and your mother close?” he asks, snapping me from my kinky daydream.
“Eh, not really. When I was younger we were, but over the past few years we have grown apart. She works a lot, and when she’s not working she’s with Stevin.” He nods his head in understanding, urging me to continue. “I mean, we live together, but we are usually doing our own things separately.” I dig my hands into the sand to keep them occupied or I might just start groping the man.
“So you live with your mom? How old are you?” he asks, incredibly.
I don’t laugh, or smirk back. The situation with my mother is more than embarrassing. She is the biggest manipulator I know. She keeps me tucked within arm’s reach and won't let me leave the nest or do anything on my own. It's like she’s keeping me for some reason, but I have not a clue why.
“It’s complicated,” I reply, looking away.