Page 24 of Falcon

“What?” He opens up the text app and sighs. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

“It’s none of my business.” I hold up my hands.

“She’s just a friend.”

“With benefits, clearly.” I try to push down that very surprising and unwelcome sting of jealousy.

“Not for awhile. I cut it off, or…I stopped texting rather. She was too needy.”

“I see.”

“That sounded worse than I meant it to. Let’s pretend that little detour never happened, okay? Now, remember, arms around me.”

The reality of that sinks in as he straddles the bike and slips his helmet on. I can feel the heat of his body in front of me. It’s more overwhelming than the Southern heat around us. His scent sinks into my pores.

Pine with a woodsy twist and a bit of citrus. It’s yummy. I find myself itching to lean forward and inhale deeply. It reminds me of an oil blend I use on days I want to be soothed.

He reaches back and takes my wrists in each of his hands, pulling my arms around his middle.

“You’ll have to scoot closer.” He gives me a tug until my breasts are pressed into his back and my thighs rest against his waist.

“Ohh,” I squeak out in surprise.

“Relax, I don’t bite.” He turns and I think I hear him say something before he turns on the engine, causing the bike to roar to life, vibrating underneath us.

I give him a squeeze and a nod when he gives me a thumbs-up, asking if I’m ready.

He twists the throttle and just like that, we are off.

He blazes down the street toward the neighborhood entrance then makes a right turn onto the main highway with ease.

Immediately, I know why people enjoy riding. There’s a peace, a sense of calm that engulfs you in a bubble when you reach a certain speed.

I feel him reach back and pat my leg. He’s checking in on me. I smile wide so he knows I’m okay. In fact, I’m perfect.

Falcon

Faith isn’t the first woman I’ve had on the back of my motorcycle. In fact, there’ve been many before her, but this is the first time I’ve felt this intense pride about it. She looks so good on it. Like she belongs there. I keep glancing into the side mirrors to catch a glimpse of her face, and there’s been a smile plastered there the entire time.

I won’t lie, I ignored the GPS and let it reroute us a few times because I wasn’t ready for the ride to end. I think she noticed, but she didn’t say a word. She just soaked up the sun and the warm air.

I realize I don’t know shit about her, except for the fact she has beautiful eyes, an amazing body, and she has this way about her that makes me want to get to know her, so that’s what I fully intend to do.

Would I love to fuck her? Absolutely. What red-blooded male wouldn’t? But for the first time in a long time, I just crave her presence. Nothing more.

I pull onto a side street and she releases me long enough to point to a parking meter to the right. I carefully wind my way through the cars and pull to a stop, carefully lean us to the left, then engage the kickstand.

I pull off my helmet and slide my hand through my hair, then turn back to look at her. “You all good back there?”

“That was amazing!” She bounces a little. “Such a rush. No wonder these things have cult-like followings.”

“Hey, I resent that remark a little.” I take her hand and help her carefully dismount the bike.

She reaches up and unbuckles her helmet then lifts it off, shaking her head a little to make her hair fall back into place. Her cheeks are flushed from the wind. She looks beautiful.

“I’m starving.” She adjusts her top a little. “Do we leave our helmets here or…?”

I take hers from her hands hold it with mine. “Not unless you want it stolen. We bring them with us.”

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