When we reached the other side, Jack let out the throttle and leaned down, head into the wind. I gasped and pressed myself to him harder, laughing with exhilaration. My hands felt the rumble of Jack’s chest, and I knew he was laughing too.
I had no idea how fast we were going, but I was pretty sure we were breaking about seventeen laws. There was hardly any traffic, and we were far away from Butler Cove in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t believe he was taking such a risk, if he was pulled over, his cover would be blown immediately.
I wished I could press my face to his back, but the helmet was a bit of a problem, although I was grateful for it. Instead, I pressed my chest against him and splayed my hands out on his abdomen, trying for as much contact as possible.
It was clear he was a skillful and confident rider, his motions completely fluid and in tune with the throbbing machine between our legs. Every time he took a curve and we leaned to the side, I hugged him to me tighter. I began to wish for every curve even though the proximity of my knee to the pavement was scary as shit.
It felt so good to have an excuse to hang onto Jack. I was amused at myself as I realized what a pick up gimmick this was. There were the classic three I could think of: inviting a girl over for a scary movie, playing guitar for her, and finally, giving her a ride on a motorcycle where she was obliged to hang onto you for dear life. But, strangely, I didn’t mind. In fact, I realized how much Jack was sharing with me. And I didn’t care that it was working.
I had a sudden memory of Jack’s face above me, breathing hard, his lips taut, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed as I lost myself to him last night. I gasped at the hot, piercing lust that instantly shot through me.
The bike slowed down as we approached the last break in the two-lane highway before the interstate.
Jack turned into the break in the median and came to an idling stop. He shifted and turned as far as he could to me. There was no one around, so he pulled his helmet off and flipped up my visor. We were both grinning stupidly, although he couldn’t see my mouth. His hair was sticking up all over the place. I was sure people paid fortunes to have their hair look like that. I couldn’t say the same for what mine was going to look like.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, this is amazing.” I meant it.
His brow furrowed. “What happened back there? I felt you suddenly tense up on me. Did I scare you?”
My eyes flicked down for a second in embarrassment. I hadn’t realized I had had such a physical reaction to my memory of last night.
I took a deep breath and decided to come clean. “I was thinking about last night in front of the fire,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “Thinking about how you made me feel. I want to do that again.”
I literally saw him lose his breath. I knew what he looked like when he was aroused, and this had certainly done the trick. He wasn’t laughing anymore.
“Shit. Keri Ann,” he croaked, his mouth firming into a grim line. He mashed his helmet back on his head and turned back to the road. “Hang on,” he said and gunned the engine.
I hung on. I guessed I had gone too far. He looked seriously pissed off. We drove back toward the island at about the speed we had left it. But now that he was probably taking me home and putting an end to our evening plans, it wasn’t quite as fun for me. We should have put an end to the whole thing this morning, or last night before I knew what it was like to be touched by a god. Or maybe even before then so my heart hadn’t gotten tangled in the mix.
We didn’t head home. As soon as we hit the end of the bridge, Jack took the next turn down to Broad Landing. He circled down under the bridge and pulled the bike to a stop. The sun was really low in the sky casting an orange glow over everything.
Relieved, I climbed off the bike, my legs feeling like jelly and took off the heavy back pack and my helmet. “This is where I kayak from.”
Staying astride the bike, Jack flipped the kickstand down and took off his helmet, too.
I caught his eyes for a moment. I wanted to apologize for being so forward, but his arm suddenly shot out and hauled me against him.
His other hand smoothed the hair from my face, and then tunneled into the braid at my nape, pulling it loose. His fingers worked through the strands, separating them gently but insistently as I gazed into his eyes. When he was done, his hand massaged my neck and scalp slowly. It felt good.