British Daddy To Go: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Adams, S. C.

  Nash merely kicks something with his foot and starts his bike. I jump at the sound, the chopper’s vibrations entering me through my thighs and moving through my entire body.

  Almost immediately, the bike jumps forward, and I tighten my grip, pressing my helmeted head into his back. I’m sure the hard plastic of the helmet edged into him isn’t the most comfortable feeling, but I do not want to switch positions and take a tumble. It takes absolutely everything inside of me not to start screaming. This is the wildest thing I’ve ever done, and it honestly feels like death is waiting around the corner, laughing at how dumb I’m being right now.

  Riding a motorcycle probably sounds like a rather mild activity to most people, but I’m like mayonnaise next to hot sauce. Boring and mild.

  “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper a little mantra to myself. Nash seems more than capable with this bike. I’m sure I can trust him.

  I know we just met, but something about him feels safe.

  We jolt forwards and pull out onto the street before whizzing down the road. Thankfully, a red light makes Nash stop, and I pick up my head for the first time when we halt. Nash is looking straight ahead. His visor is down, so I can’t see his face.

  My heart pounds. I didn’t realize traveling like this would be so exhilarating. I’ve always been a car girl for many reasons, but there’s something different about traveling on a motorcycle. I’ve ridden regular bicycles before, but it’s not quite the same. The closest I’ve come to this is going down a steep hill on my bike, brakes totally off.

  Then, the light changes, and we start zooming through the streets again. I put my head back against Nash’s back, a little calmer this time around. I’m excited to find out what our destination is.

  I hadn’t even considered where he might be taking me. He has all the power right now and could bring me wherever he wants. The woods to ravish and then kill me, hiding my body so it’s never found again, for example. Or we could get so far outside of Fresno that it’s nearly impossible for me to get back.

  Why have I trusted this perfect stranger so soon? What has he done to earn my confidence?

  Fingers crossed this evening doesn’t end up totally tragic because I possibly made a major error in judgment.

  I’m sure tonight will turn out perfectly fine.

  Or possibly even better, if I’m lucky.

  To be continued…

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  About the Author

  S.C. Adams is a romance author who likes her stories hot and unprotected. She grew up a Jersey girl but considers herself a global citizen now. She gives thanks to the gods of Paypal, Amazon, and Microsoft for allowing her to work anywhere in the world, including on the beaches of Bali and the mountains of Peru. Oh, and she also hates chocolate, but loves dogs. Currently toting her mutt Minnie to a new location every three months.

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