Inked By My Best Friend's Dad - Page 15

Without a word, Slade lifts me up as if I weigh nothing and sets me gently on the back part of the huge seat I know must be his.

“It’s not as scary as it looks,” he says gently, reading my mind and telling me to pull my hair back while he slips the helmet on my head.

“A little loose… But… There we go,” he says finally, adjusting it so it fits snuggly.

I try to swallow, but my mouth and throat are so dry I can only nod when he asks if I’m okay.

“Just hold onto me, and lean when I lean. Stay straight when I’m straight,” he explains.

Simple enough instructions, but he’s lost me right after he said “hang onto me,”

I think I can manage that.

Only I’m aware of the squealing shriek I make once he kick starts the huge machine.

And in a single second my body remembers to hang on long before my brain has a chance to kick in once we’re moving.

My arms are hooked around Slade’s waist, my head to one side and my whole body pressed is right up against his back by the time we reach the speed limit, which feels like a hundred miles an hour on the back of a bike.

I want to squeeze my eyes shut, to pretend this isn’t real until I just get home.

But the scent of Slade’s cologne, and the wind thrashing against us both, plus the vibrations coming through my seat makes it something I want to be totally conscious of.

Not to mention the feeling of his taut, ripped body that’s as hard as a tree trunk and about as wide.

On one hand I’m terrified, clinging to him for dear life.

And on the other, I wouldn’t miss this for the world and feel the safest I ever have in my life.

No way would I get on a bike with anyone else, let alone trust them to take me home.

The thought of my mom seeing Slade drop me off should frighten me too, but she knows Slade is Tasha’s dad.

And although not acquainted, I don’t think there’s anyone in town who hasn’t seen or at least heard of Slade.

And never for the reasons people might think.

Me? I have a new reason for not just wanting to spend more time at my bestie Tasha’s house.

By the time we pull up at my house, I already miss the feeling of riding with Slade.

I want it.

But I need him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Slade

I’ve carried pillion passengers on my ride before, but not often and nothing like this.

Ferrying someone almost as big as I am to pick up their ride from a mechanic is one thing, but I wouldn’t do it for fun.

With Abby gripping me around the waist, it feels like I’m riding for the first time ever.

I coach her gently, telling her just how to hold onto me, and within the first few seconds, it's all I want.

Just hold onto me, Abby. Everything will work out, I’ll make sure it does.

You and me… Us.

The thought is more than appealing. And it quickly matches my newfound obsession with Abby.

I don’t want her for one day. One night. I want us to learn more about each other and explore this. This feeling I know I’ve never felt, not for anyone. Having her this close to me so soon is more than I could have hoped for. Even if it’s nowhere near where I’d rather be with her right now.

Baby steps, Slade. Baby steps.

I think that’s the whole idea, baby steps? As in, stepping up to the plate and filling Abby full of our babies?

That’s what my instincts are telling me. That’s what my body is sensing from hers long before I even think about trying to put the same feeling into words.

Focusing on her curves pressed up against me as well as the curves ahead in the road, it’s the shortest ride of my life because it’s over much too soon.

But I can’t just put Abby over my shoulder and ride off into the sunset, caveman style.

Can I?

Every fiber of my being screams to do just that, but the complications for both of us would be—

Would be what?

Overcome in time. Awkward at best but nobody would die. Life would go on.

I pause that thought. Vowing to come back to it once I’ve helped Abby off my bike and out of her helmet.

Her face is flushed from the wind and the thrill of the ride home, she practically shouts in exhilaration, making me smile.

“I had a really nice time,” she says, way too loudly.

Standing there, out in front of her place, knowing that no one else is home with the empty driveway, I lean over.

“You still owe me a kiss,” I tease her. Letting her take that anyway she wants but hoping she understands now.

I need her to know this isn’t our imagination. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing and I’ll be damned if it’s gonna pass either of us by.

Tags: Flora Ferrari Romance
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