by Jo Leigh
Maybe he could grab a cup right now.
“Where’s your motorcycle?” she asked.
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
He took her hand and led her out the side door to the lot where he kept most of the bikes. She seemed pretty impressed. Wait’ll she got a load of his baby.
Walking her the few shorts steps to his parking space, he watched for her reaction. The ladies always went nuts over his bike. Knowing Amelia’s fantasy about being ravished by a biker made the moment all the sweeter. “There she is,” he said, then he stepped back.
She stared at the bike for a moment, then gave him a crooked little smile. “It’s pretty.”
His balloon burst with a pop. “Pretty?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah. I think it’s the prettiest one here.”
“Pretty?”
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
“No. No, not at all. You’re right. It is pretty.” He shoved the key into the ignition. “You ready?”
“Wait a minute. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She crossed her arms. “Please tell me. I’ll be so worried about it, I won’t have a good time.”
He looked up at the sky, at the billowing clouds. So what if she said his bike was “pretty”? It didn’t matter. It was just a word. It didn’t change the bike, make it any less his pride and joy. Dammit, this was all going exactly the way he’d wanted it to, so why would he want to screw it up because of one word? He turned to her.
“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. I just don’t think of my bike as pretty, that’s all.”
“Oh. I meant that as a compliment. It’s a very impressive motorcycle. Really.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Come on, forget about it. Let’s get this show on the road.”
She nodded, but he could tell she felt bad. He mounted the bike, then patted the seat behind him. “It’s okay, babe.”
She took in a deep breath—which did incredible things to the sweater—and climbed onto the leather seat. Her thighs pressed against his hips in a way that made him forget his wounded ego. When her arms went around his waist, he had to hold back a groan. Impatiently, he waited to feel her chest against his back. It didn’t happen. She wasn’t holding him tightly enough. He took her hands in his and pulled her forward. When there was no room between them, he let her go. “Ready?”
“I’ve never done this before.”
He grinned. “I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of firsts between us.” Then he turned the key, revved the powerful engine, and they roared out of there as pretty as you please.
IT WAS SENSORY OVERLOAD. The vibration of the bike between her legs, the way her thighs spread to accommodate his hips, her breasts pressed tight against him, her hands touching his hard body—she didn’t know what to concentrate on first.
Simply the fact that it was her made her head spin. Shy, invisible Amelia, on the back of a Harley-Davidson with the most gorgeous guy in the universe—it was beyond comprehension. There were none of the qualities of a dream, and she didn’t think she’d gone completely delusional. If she had, she didn’t care. This was good. This was the best thing that had happened to her in—ever.
She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, but she couldn’t quite get up the nerve. Touching him this way was already so intimate. Of course, he had kissed her. Twice. But she still wasn’t ready to take another step. Not yet. She’d done enough for one day. The jeans belonged to Donna, the sweater to Kathy; the makeup was Tabby’s; and she’d gone, first thing this morning, to Victoria’s Secret and splurged on a matching pair of pink lace panties and bra.
Not that he was going to see it, but it made her feel sexy. Pretty. She wasn’t used to feeling pretty. Her aunt Grace, as loving as she’d been, had made it very clear that vanity was a sin, and that showing off would only get Amelia into trouble. She’d learned that lesson herself years later. She’d grown so comfortable in her invisibility that even wearing jeans and a sweater seemed unbearably daring.
She’d never guessed riding a motorcycle could be so erotic. It was like a giant B.O.B.—battery-operated boyfriend. At least, that’s what Kathy called hers. If more women took rides on these babies, they’d never settle for a car again.
They slipped through traffic, passing stalled cars, honking taxi drivers, limos and buses. While it thrilled her, it was also somewhat scary, and at Lexington, she decided to close her eyes. Which wasn’t such a great plan. She grabbed hold of Jay’s shirt…well, actually, more than his shirt. He jerked, the bike swerved.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but she had no idea if he heard her. But then, without giving herself time to think or pause, she pulled his T-shirt up, releasing it from his jeans. She took a deep breath, then touched his naked chest.
The bike swerved again, and she couldn’t help it, she scratched him. Not deeply, but the whole idea of her nails on his skin took her breath away. With shocking boldness, she continued to touch him.
She’d had this fantasy for a long time about sex with a biker. They’d ride off into a secluded wood, and then he’d turn around and he’d unzip his pants, showing her just how hot and hard he was. She’d be so excited that she’d sit right down on his lap, and instead of riding the bike, she’d ride him.
Almost swooning with the image, she let herself explore. With the scent of leather and the roar of the traffic all around, her fingers moved slowly over his skin, learning, memorizing, so that when this was all over, her fantasies would be incredibly detailed.
There was so little padding on him. Just taut flesh over muscle. Not like her at all, and certainly not like Kevin. He’d been nice and all, but he’d also been shaped like a pear. Jay, on the other hand, had the body of an Adonis. Okay, so that was a bit much, but damn, he was fine. Just enough hair on his chest. Oh. Really hard little nipples. She could feel his tension, and she wondered if it was caused by driving, or by her leisurely study. Maybe she should lay off. With the traffic this heavy, it was dangerous, and she wasn’t through with him yet.
She smiled at the bold thought. As if she’d ever say or do anything remotely like that. Truth was, she was all hat and no cowboy. But that was changing, wasn’t it? Starting with a pair of snug jeans and some lipstick, and her own fierce determination.
Her fantasy man had walked into her life, and she wasn’t about to let him go. She had a lot to make up for—years and years of hiding, running, feeling less-than. If she didn’t go for it now, she was afraid she never would.
He swerved again, and she gripped him tighter, and then they were at the curb. With the engine idling, he turned to face her, and she quickly slipped her hands from under his shirt. He gave her the oddest smile. “There’s something I have to do before we leave the city.”
Something about him had changed, and she couldn’t read his expression. Now her pulse raced with a different kind of energy. It was her brazenness. He was shocked. Well, so was she. The question, however, was if he was pleased or put off.
Before she could ask, he turned and guided the bike back into traffic. This time, she held his waist over his shirt. And she didn’t lay her cheek on his leather jacket. She just wondered what had gotten into her.
For all intents and purposes, Jay was a stranger. She’d only talked to him a couple of times. He could be anything, anyone, and she’d given herself to him without question. She didn’t know where they were headed, or what they’d do when they got there. And while all that was scary, it was also more exciting than anything she could remember. Her grip tightened.
After two more long blocks, Jay turned right, then slowed. He drove up next to an old brownstone and cut the engine. She didn’t recognize the neighborhood, and the only people she saw on the street were an elderly couple holding grocery bags and a man walking a Doberman.
She got off the motorcycle, and Jay did, too. After they took off their helmets, she got a better look at his face. He seemed angry, his brow furrowed and his lips pres
sed tightly together.
Her hand went to her neck. His gaze focused there for a moment, then he looked into her eyes.
“Come on. Let’s get this done.”
She swallowed. He couldn’t mean… “Jay, where are we?”
He looked at her crookedly, as if surprised by the question. “My apartment.”
Uh-oh.
7
JAY COULDN’T BELIEVE he’d forgotten his promise. Of all the rotten timing. He took Amelia’s hand and led her to the building’s big glass doors. She hesitated a moment as they passed the threshold, and when he glanced at her expression, he stopped short.
“What’s wrong?”
She tried to smile at him, but she didn’t quite pull it off. “Nothing.”
“Nope. I’m not buying it.”
She looked up. At first he thought she was praying or something, and then he got it.
“It’s okay,” he said, fighting not to laugh. “You’re safe.”
Then he did laugh when he saw the flash of disappointment cross her face.
“It’s not funny,” she said, but she was grinning, too.
“Wait’ll you get a load of our chaperones.” He didn’t want to explain further. Let her see for herself.
They stepped in the elevator, her hand still in his. He wanted to get on with it, to get her out of the city, out of her comfort zone. Who was he kidding? He wanted to stop the elevator and ravish her right now, but he didn’t want to have to look for a new apartment.
“What?”
“Hmm?”
“You were looking at me funny.” She stepped a little closer to him, studying him as if his face held clues.
“I was just wishing we didn’t have to do this. But I promised.”
“And you’re not going to tell me what this is, right?”
He shook his head. The elevator climbed slowly up to his floor, and the doors opened. He remembered the last woman he’d brought to his place. She was a six-foot beauty who was into leather and acrobatics. They’d stayed in for three days. He’d like to do the same with Amelia, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not today, anyway. She wanted to ride. He’d take her. It was her fantasy, and she deserved to have it come true. It didn’t hurt that he was getting what he wanted at the same time. Symmetry. That’s what it was. Perfect symmetry.
They went down the hall, past his place to Shawn and Bill’s apartment. He had to knock loudly, because neither one of the old men could hear worth a damn.
Amelia continued to watch him in her quiet way. What was she thinking? She wasn’t easy to read. Which made the game that much more fun.
He went to bang on the door again, but it opened, and he caught himself in mid-swing. Bill’s eyes widened as he saw what could have been a TKO.
“All right, all right,” he said. “I’ll call a plumber.”
Jay laughed. The old guys might be deaf and they were mostly a pain in the ass, but they cracked him up. “Bill, I’d like you to meet Amelia.”
Bill shifted his gaze, and smiled so wide that Jay could see his bridgework. “Amelia? Nice to meet you.” He stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in, come in. Don’t mind the smell. Shawn is making corned beef and cabbage. Not that I can eat it, mind you. My stomach would be upset for days, and then he’d complain about the smell, all right.”
“Hey, Bill,” Jay said, knowing what he was about to say would make no difference at all. “You know the concept of too much information?”
Bill waved his hand as if he were swatting flies. “We’re friends. Friends can say anything.”
Amelia smiled at him, and it was all over for the old man. He was smitten. Jay didn’t blame him. It was pretty hard not to be attracted to her, now that she wasn’t hiding.
“So, you and Jay…?” Bill wiggled his eyebrows.
Amelia blushed, and Jay’s cock responded. When her cheeks got pink like that, it did something to him.
“We’re, uh, friends,” she said. Then she looked at him as if for confirmation. Or contradiction.
“Soon to be much more,” he said, keeping his voice so low that he knew Bill wouldn’t be able to hear. Amelia, however, didn’t know Bill was mostly deaf, and her blush went from pink to crimson.
Bill squinted at him. “What?”
“Do you want your sink fixed, or not?”
Sighing heavily, Bill shook his head as he led them to the kitchen.
Jay still had Amelia’s hand in his, and he gave it a squeeze when they came upon Shawn at the stove. The old man wore an apron with Kiss the Cook emblazoned on the front.
“Look who Jay brought,” Bill said. “Her name is Amelia.”
Shawn gave her the once-over, then nodded. “Nice. In fact, very nice.” He scowled at Jay. “This is the kind of girl you should be dating.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jay touched Amelia’s cheek. “Ignore them.”
“I don’t think I should.”
“Trust me. They’re both lunatics.”
“I heard that,” Shawn said. He put his hands on his hips. “Just because we’re willing to tell the truth…”
Jay kissed Amelia lightly on the lips. “We’ll be outta here in five.” He went to the sink, opened the cabinet below it and took out the wrench, then got down on the floor. The plumbing sucked in the building, but Shawn’s apartment had it the worst. Jay cleared the sink at least a couple of times a month. The super had promised to fix it. Right.
He laid down on his back and maneuvered under the pipes until he could get the wrench in place. Luckily, it would only take a few minutes to fix. Because if he had to wait much longer to feel Amelia’s hands under his shirt again, he’d lose it.
He could just see her legs from here. They shouldn’t have made his pulse race, but they did. Just seeing her legs, for God’s sake, and in jeans, no less. He needed help, and he’d get right on it. Tomorrow. Today, he needed to fix the friggin’ pipes.
“Amelia,” Shawn said. “That’s a lovely name for a lovely girl.”
“Thank you.”
“What do you do, sweetheart?”
“I’m in grad school.”
“What are you—”
The pot on the stove must have bubbled over, because Shawn’s curses were accompanied by sizzling. Jay concentrated on the pipes, loosened a nut, then realized he hadn’t brought the bucket.
“Amelia?”
She bent down so he could see her face. Damn. He had to work faster.
“Would you bring me the bucket? Shawn will give it to you.”
She walked away, and he changed his mind about where he was going to take her. He’d thought about Long Island—Port Washington, to be exact. Right on the ocean, it was a beautiful town with great restaurants. But it was also crowded. He knew a place upstate that would afford them a lot more privacy. A little bed-and-breakfast in Woodstock where he’d spent a weekend maybe a year ago. Yeah. Much better.
“Here.”
She bent down again, holding up the bucket. He couldn’t take it until he moved to his right. He swapped her for the wrench, and positioned the bucket under the pipe. The nut sufficiently loosened, he unscrewed it the rest of the way, and in short order, he’d cleared the clog. Craning his neck, he could only see her legs.
“You have that wrench?”
“Uh-huh.”
She leaned over, but before he could reach out for the tool, it slipped from her hand and landed right on his nuts. The pain rocked him forward. He slammed his forehead into the pipe and dropped the bucket of sludge on his legs.
“Oh God.” Amelia crouched down beside him. “I’m so sorry.”
He couldn’t make her feel better at the moment. Not while he was incapacitated. It didn’t help matters to hear Shawn and Bill laughing like hyenas. Why’d it have to fall there? Another wave of pain washed through him, and he prayed he wouldn’t be sick.
“Jay? Are you okay? Oh God. I can’t believe I did that.”
“It’s okay,” he mumbled through clenched teeth. He p
icked up the wrench from the floor and handed the bucket to Amelia.
She took it, but she kept staring at him. Her concern would have been touching if he hadn’t wanted to curl up in a little ball and weep.
She stood, and he used all his willpower to finish the job under the sink. Despite his soaked jeans, which, he had just discovered, smelled like week-old fish. When the pipe was snug, he crawled out and sat up. He wasn’t ready to stand, yet.
Amelia crouched down next to him. “Ow, ow, ow.” She touched the goose egg on his forehead.
“Ah.”
Drawing in a sharp breath between her teeth, she backed off. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
He nodded, grateful that the pain in his head was now greater than the pain in his crotch.
Amelia stood up and went to the freezer. Shawn gave her a towel, and she wrapped up a handful of ice. Then she was back, next to him, and she put the towel on his bruise.
“Ow.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
“But it’s my fault.”
“It was an accident.” He moved, not able to hold back a grimace.
Amelia shook her head, her beautiful face a mask of concern. Then she took the wrapped ice and put it in his lap. Hard.
He winced. She jerked back. Shawn and Bill laughed their asses off.
“Don’t put the ice there,” Bill said. “You know what happens.”
She turned to him. “What?”
Bill laughed louder, slapping the counter with his hand. “Shrinkage. And if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do, he needs his equipment in working order.”
Amelia’s blush actually made him feel better. Not great. But better.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Come here.”
Still looking stricken, she sat down next to him. He wanted her to scoot closer so he could put his arm around her, but in his current state, that wasn’t going to happen. She’d get soaked, and then they’d both smell like dead carp.
