“When I’m on a bike, I’m full of power and speed. That’s why I think you’d enjoy it. This bike is just like you.”
His palms smoothed down my back, sliding back to my waist again. His mouth hovered at my ear, warm breath tickling my skin.
“Like me?”
“Hell yeah.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Because I’m powerful and fast and you desperately want to ride me?”
There was a rumble from his chest—part pained laughter, part growl. Kiss him. It would be as easy as ripping up my contract and embracing this wild attraction. And those hands, gripping my waist, would absolutely take me apart before putting me back together again.
“Something like that,” he said—soft, like velvet. “It’s a machine that takes whatever the fuck it wants, whenever it wants. It crushes speed limits and dominates bends in the road. And in a race? It always wins.”
My cheeks heated at the compliment.
Was that a kiss, below my ear?
Were those Max’s hands, caressing my thighs? With a delicious drag, he shifted my skirt up, up. When his fingers finally touched my bare legs, I sighed with a happy pleasure.
“You know the best thing about riding a motorcycle, don’t you?”
I had an idea. But I wanted him to say it.
I pressed my legs wider apart. Tilted my head as his open mouth roamed along my skin, embracing the chaos head on. Hurricane didn’t even come close to this swept away sensation.
“Tell me,” I demanded. I watched his tattooed hands skim up my bare legs, my sex already clenching in anticipation of his rough, skilled touch.
Another kiss below my ear. This one was even filthier.
“It’s the closest thing to pure ecstasy next to fucking,” he whispered. “And if I’m ever lucky enough to have you on my goddamn bike, you better believe I’d make sure that ecstasy was yours for the taking.”
21
Max
This was it then.
My death.
I was legit about to fucking die here, wrapped around Fiona on a stationary motorcycle with both of my hands teasing beneath her skirt. How did people with crushes on their friends walk around and live normal lives? Because I was not okay right now. I’d just admitted to this bombshell that I had an actual crush on her before hugging her against my body with every ounce of restrained sexual passion that I had.
Maybe I need to be convinced.
I was going to convince the hell out of her and then ask Mrs. Rivera to call an ambulance for me. Whatever was going on with my heart at the moment had to be concerning to a doctor.
Also—for the record—I was now smelling her hair constantly.
Strawberries and fucking sunshine.
“Max?”
“Yes, princess?” We were both watching my hands on her soft, gorgeous thighs. I was gliding them up, then down, listening to her ragged breathing.
“Have you ever had sex on a motorcycle?”
She hadn’t turned her head fully, just tilted her neck to give me access to that pretty throat of hers. The second she did, the second those lips came near, I was finally going to taste her.
“Not yet.” I pressed my mouth to her hair. She shivered. “Would you like a simulation of that too?”
She nodded, but just barely. Which I got. The two of us were caught in some kind of spell right now, one that didn’t include my past or her contract or the approaching future. Sudden movements were dangerous.
“Maybe, in this simulation, you and I have had our fill of this drive,” I said. “Maybe we want each other so badly we don’t even make it to the hotel down the road. Maybe we only make it to the first abandoned gas station.”
My lips tasted the back of her neck. My fingers drifted a little higher.
“Then what?”
“You tell me. Because I see you perched on this exact seat, feet propped up, with my head beneath this lovely skirt.”
She gasped. I fucking loved it.
“You could scream my name as loud as you wanted. No one would hear you by the highway. Not a goddamn soul would hear me press your face into that seat and kick your feet apart.”
My tongue darted out, touched her earlobe.
“And not a soul would hear you scream again while I fucked you from behind like the world was about to end. Is that what you see when you think about the two of us together?”
I peeked around to catch the dreamiest, sexiest smile spreading across her face. Eyes closed, blissed out, nipples hard against her dress. What a fucking vision.
“Please.”
The word stopped me in my tracks. Because until this moment, what we were doing felt like a more erotic version of our harmless flirting. We were friends who probably shouldn’t fuck but couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Teasing like this, playing like this, seemed to make Fiona happy. I was quickly learning I’d do anything to make that happen.
But that word. Please. That was a request.
That word had consequences.
I slid my fingers through her golden hair and gently turned her face. Nudged her nose with mine until she opened her eyes. I expected to find lust there, and I did. But there was trust too, which tightened my throat. She was begging me for something I couldn’t possibly give her.
Or could I?
Fiona wanted her next kiss to be from a man who meant it. Not a man like me, who usually tossed them around like party confetti. Except I was milliseconds away from kissing this woman with more fraught fucking yearning than I ever thought possible.
When did a first kiss become the highlight of my year?
“You can ask me for anything,” I whispered. “Pleasure doesn’t have to be earned, and for fuck’s sake, you deserve pleasure in this life. Let me give it to you.”
She held both of my wrists. “My crush on you makes me a little scared.”
I pressed my forehead to hers. I hadn’t experienced anything this intense in years.
Maybe ever.
“I’m a little scared too.”
There it was. The truth.
She must have seen something in my expression, must have seen how sincere I was being. Because I watched Fiona tip her mouth up towards mine, seeking a kiss. Our lips brushed together once—so softly it didn’t seem real. A millisecond later, my goddamn phone rang. It was a loud, squawking, bucket of cold water to a situation that was sexy as sin and technically forbidden.
“Your phone,” she whispered, already starting to pull away.
“Ignore it,” I growled. “I need you.”
I need you. Not “I need to kiss you” or “I need to fuck you.” Both of which were true. But I finally had sweet Fiona wrapped in my arms, and the past week of wanting her had loosened my tongue.
My phone kicked up its third bout of ringing, so persistent a flare of concern finally forced its way through the haze of my own lust.
She kissed my cheek. “It’s okay. I promise.”
I cursed under my breath. Hopped off the bike, raking a hand through my hair angrily. We were so close. So close to figuring out what this passion between us really was. Because I had no idea what was happening to me right now.
“Yeah?” I said, sounding frustrated as I answered the call. I rubbed my forehead and stepped outside. One glance behind me, and I was immediately distracted by flushed, slightly rumpled Fiona, touching her fingers to her lips.