After thinking for a bit, Shayla’s head dips up and down. “I think so. But if you’ve still got her sketch, take it along, it could jog her memory if she’s forgotten.”
After pressing the button that makes the door rise, I wheel the bike out into the sunshine. Behind me I hear shuffling and know Shayla’s slipping out of her overalls. Dragging up the gentleman from deep down inside me, I don’t turn around to watch.
When she comes alongside, my lips curve up rather than down. She’s wearing jeans, and heavy-duty boots. What’s suitable for working on autos will certainly do for a bike. Her denim jacket will work as well.
She sets the alarm without me reminding her, closes the door and locks it, then looks at me dubiously after I throw my leg over the bike.
“Get on behind me, babe. Put your hand on my shoulder if you like.”
A moment of indecision before she finally takes the plunge. The bike’s suspension dips with her weight behind me. It’s not that she’s heavier than Cas, in fact she’s lighter, but she feels different.
“What do I do?” she asks, her tone full of concern. “Apart from trying not to fall off?”
“You won’t fall off,” I chuckle. “Babe, just put your arms around my waist and hold tight. Then do what I do, lean with me and the bike. Oh, and mind the pipes, they’ll get hot.”
I can feel her trembling. Whether it’s fear of the bike ride ahead or of being so close to me, I’m not certain. Hopefully she’ll become comfortable with both in a short while. I’ve got a small mom and pop place in mind as our destination. It’s far enough for her to have a good riding experience, but if she’s not enjoying it, we won’t have too long a ride back. If she really hates it, I can summon a prospect with a cage.
Kicking down into first gear, I gently ease off the clutch, starting off gradually. My foot returns to neutral then kicks up through the gears as I pick up speed. Her hands feel like they’ve got a death grip on my waste.
It’s still a novelty having a passenger behind me, and I have to get used to the different handling of the bike. I take it easy, cornering slightly slower than normal, and only speeding up on the straights. Without any form of communication, I haven’t a clue how she’s taking to this, but I’m hoping she’s enjoying it as much as I am.
Riding a bike can be lonely unless you’re with a pack. With her warmth behind me, I don’t feel alone. While there’s no way we can discuss it, she’s seeing and experiencing everything as I am. The exhilarating curves, the bumps in the slightly uneven parts of the road, and the straights where I twist the throttle and the breeze in our faces picks up.
The wind therapy, as always, seems to heal my soul. By the time I arrive at our destination, I feel fully relaxed. I cut the engine and pat her leg, instructing her to get off, then back the bike into a parking spot. When I look forward again, I get a look at her face and frown.
Is she traumatised?
“Shayla?” I start, cautiously, hoping to fuck I haven’t put her off bikes for life. I rode carefully. In my head, I go back over the short journey, I couldn’t remember anything that might have scared her, but then, some people are simply worried about the vulnerability of being on a bike.
Her mouth looks tight, her eyes are wide open. Her breath is coming a little too fast. There’s a flush to her cheeks which wasn’t there earlier.
“Shayla?” I repeat, this time more concerned. Thinking I will have to summon that prospect with a truck to take her back, I reach for her hand, it’s trembling.
She stares down at our joined fingers and then through long eyelashes up at my face. “Mace,” she begins, then stops, licks her lips and tries again. “Mace, do you think we could try first base before we go in and eat?”
Well I’ll be fucked. The muscles in my cheeks begin to tighten as my mouth forms a crescent. Seems either the vibration of the bike or being so close to me has had an effect. One that I very much like.
“I think,” I bend my head so we’re less than a few inches apart, “that’s a fuckin’ excellent idea.” Slowly, so fucking slowly, I close the distance.
One of my hands still holds hers. Using only that to anchor her to me, I gently brush my lips over her soft ones, a sweet innocent kiss I haven’t deployed since I was younger than Cas.
It’s her who wants more. She curls her free hand around my neck, trying to prevent my escape and increasing the pressure where our lips meet. I let her lead as her tongue demands entry into my mouth, then imitate her actions.
Even though it’s become more sensual, it’s still an innocent kiss. Perfectly acceptable in a place where there are families and children close by. Nevertheless, it’s sexually charged and full of promise. I can’t get enough of her taste, my appetite for food has fled, it’s her I want instead. I get a waft of the shampoo she uses, and my free hand brushes against the soft smooth skin of her face, brushing aside the silky strands of her hair. While from the restaurant behind us there’s a clattering of plates, the sound is drowned out by the little moan that escapes from her.
My cock thickens and I know it’s time to pull back, before my wrong head takes over and demands I take her to a more discreet place, and fuck this second and third base lark, take her straight to fourth.
“Mace…?” Her eyes are wide, and her fingers touch her lips.
“Perfect, babe.” And it was. I can’t find other words to describe it. Simply kissing a girl is not who I am. Club whores don’t need such foreplay, and would far rather have my mouth somewhere else. If a citizen girl demands it, I’ll oblige, but only to get her into the mood. With Shayla? The kiss was an end in itself. Of course it left me wanting more, but also with a feeling of satisfaction. I know I’ll want to do that again. Heck, I can barely stop myself reaching for her now.
I jerk my chin toward the restaurant, and no words need to be said. Still holding her hand tightly, I lead her inside.
As we eat, I listen to her glowing recount of how much she enjoyed riding my bike as if I needed words to prove it. Her enthusiasm makes me hope it will be sooner, rather than later, we’ll be making that trip to Flagstaff.
If one short journey makes her want to kiss me like she’s just done, I have to wonder what effect a longer one will have.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lizard
While there’s still an underlying current of unease deep inside me, I have to admit the biker compound is completely different to anything I expected. I may not recognise the people that live here, but they all treat me like a friend, without any uneasiness or distrust that they’d show toward a stranger.
My stomach replete with an excellent breakfast that was particularly tasty after hospital food, I take another coffee out into the surprisingly clean and comfortable clubroom, seating myself on a couch which I’d expected to find old and worn, but still looks relatively new. I ease myself back and rest my head. It wouldn’t take much for me to doze off, but I try and fight the wave of tiredness that floods over me.
I consider the people I’ve met. Demon and his wife Vi, the president and first lady. Thunder who’s the sergeant-at-arms, and Mace the enforcer, whatever that means. Beef who’s the VP and Steph, his old lady who’s blind. Then Buzzard and Sindy, Bomber and Jeannie who I haven’t quite got the measure of yet. One minute she’s all smiles and laughter, and the next, well, let’s just say she runs a tight ship. Sparky who introduced himself as the road captain, and Cad who apparently spends most of his life with his computers—a man so pale I half expect him to admit he sleeps in a coffin.