In a narrow alleyway, a huge motorcycle is waiting for us. All black and gleaming chrome, with Harley Davidson emblazoned on the tank.
“It’s big,” I mutter, mildly terrified.
“Uh huh.” Forge flashes a grin. “Beautiful, right?”
“Yeah.” I can’t deny it’s a stunning piece of machinery.
He looks pleased. Then he swings his leg astride, and the beast roars to life. He maneuvers it off the kickstand, then he helps me climb on. I’ve never been on a bike before—let alone such a big one—and my legs are shaky. But when I settle into position, the leather seat and footrests are comfy.
“Wrap your arms around me,” he tells me.
“Tighter,” he says, when I hold him in a loose, shy grasp.
I take a deep breath and grip his broad, firm waist as tight as I wanted to.
“Come on. Don’t be so prissy.” Impatiently, he grabs my knees and tugs me forward, until I’m snug against him.
I bite back a gasp as my thighs spread wide around his hips, that aching spot pressing right up against his denim-clad ass. I’ve never had a man between my legs before. It’s outrageous. Confusing.
He gives me some instructions on staying close to him, relaxing, and shouting out if I need anything, and we’re off.
We stop in front of Sinner’s Refuge Bar, and he stalks off and gives the scary lady my car keys, then the rest of Perdue town passes in a blur, and we’re heading onto a ramp that brings us to the highway.
It is kind of cool being on a motorcycle, once I quit being nervous. The countryside zips past at breathtaking speed and Forge’s bulk protects me from the worst of the wind.
He checks on me all the time, and I start to look forward to those little leg squeezes. The weight of his big hand on my thigh, his body heat flooding through the denim. He makes me feel excited, safe, imperiled, all at the same time.
After an hour,Forge pulls into a parking lot in front of a supermarket.
“Need to get supplies,” he explains. “Don’t know how long we’ll be out there.”
He tells me to get whatever I want, but I’m kind of flustered and I wind up grabbing some random stuff—cookies, chips and candy, mostly. Meanwhile, he’s gotten fresh meat, sausages, vegetables. Milk. Frozen pizza. Adult food. When he scans my choices, he throws me an indulgent look, and I go hot with embarrassment. I want him to think I’m a grownup woman, not a silly little kid.
Everything fits in his bike’s panniers, and we’re off again.
It’s almost dusk by the time we turn onto a narrow road. Dense vegetation reaches across on both sides, blocking out the sky. It’s a little creepy and I shudder. Somehow, Forge feels the tremor all the way through his leathers, and he gives my leg another reassuring squeeze. “Be there soon, little one,” he shouts through the helmet.
He rides on and on. The road becomes a gravel track, then dirt. At last, he parks up, deep in a pine forest.
He helps me slip off, then he pulls our stuff out of the panniers. I look around confusedly. Aside from this small clearing, there’s no sign of civilization. I’m a suburban girl. I’m not used to this level of remoteness, and I’m kind of freaked out.
“This way.” His hand is light on my back as he guides me through the forest.
There’s a sound of gently sloshing water and a sharp, earthy scent. Then a stretch of water appears through the trees.
A lake.
Surreal. I stand and stare at its broad expanse. It’s big, wide, and right in the middle of it is an island.
“My place.” Forge points to the island. “My cabin is behind that clump of trees.”
I squint. “Can’t see anything.”
He chuckles. “Exactly. Which is why it’s the safest place we could be right now. There’s only one boat here—” he indicates a dinghy, tied to a small jetty. “Also mine. So, it’s completely private.”
I worry at my lower lip. This is a whole other level of isolation.
Just me and an indecently sexy wolf shifter, who I must not kiss again, under any circumstances. Even though every part of my body is screaming out for him.