Page 77 of Ridin' Free
I tookextra careas I got ready for the night. After a shower and shave, I lathered myself in scented lotion I’d purchased on my shopping trip with Tess. I donned my new dark-green, demi-cut, strapless bra and matching lacey thong, then slipped into my summer dress. It was emerald green and covered in tiny little white daisies. The sleeveless top dipped low in a generous V-cut neckline, allowing me to show off the cleavage I had to offer. The dress cinched at my waist, hugging my narrow frame before draping loosely from my hips to the middle of my thighs.
Tess had been the one to spot the dress on the sales rack. She insisted I try it on, sure it would bring out the green of my eyes. As I stood in front of the mirror, applying my usual amount of makeup, I couldn’t help but to notice how right she was.
I left my hair the way I liked it best—natural and loose, hanging down my back. When I was happy with my handiwork, I laced up my Doc Marten’s and headed for the stairs. I was stowing my phone in my purse when I heard the sound of his approaching hog. I relished in the excitement which accompanied his arrival.
Even though I was no longer trying to keep him out of my house, I didn’t wait for him to come collect me at my door, too impatient to see him. As I strapped my purse across my body, I snatched up my keys and stepped out on my front porch, locking up behind me. He barely had the chance to kill the engine of his Harley by the time I made it to the driveway. I saw it as he positioned himself to dismount before he caught sight of me and stopped. He then slowly dipped his chin and stared at me from over the top of his sunglasses as I continued toward him.
This made me laugh. Wanting to revel in the victory which washed over me as he continued to stare with those bourbon brown eyes, I gave him a twirl and a wink. The grin the gesture earned me was divine.
“Fuck me,” he marveled. “There she is. The woman underneath all that bravado.”
Much like on our first date, I didn’t wait for him to offer me a hand before climbing onto his hog. I helped myself—gripping his kutte at the arm hole for my leverage. When I had both boots settled on opposing foot pegs, I leaned down until my lips grazed his ear and murmured, “Didn’t your mama teach you not to stare?”
He turned just enough to look me in the eye, reaching back with one hand to grab hold of the back of my neck, keeping me close as he replied, “Yeah. But pops taught me there were exceptions to every rule.” He pulled me closer, until his lips grazed mine. He darted his tongue out, sneaking a taste before he muttered, “Damn, you’re somethin’ else.”
Then he kissed me—long and hard. Wild and delicious.
I got so lost in his affection, I almost forgot where we were.
We were both breathless when he pulled away and told me, “Was gonna take you for pizza—but you look fit for steak.”
“Don’t care where we go, brown-eyes, so long as it means food in my belly.”
“Alright, then. Sit that pretty ass down,” he demanded as he let me go.
I happily obeyed, wrapping myself around him as I did so. He started his Harley’s engine, gave my thigh an affectionate squeeze, then began to ease out of my driveway.
Our ride was a short ten minutes. When we pulled into the parking lot of the Prime Rib Restaurant, he found a spot right out front. To my surprise, after we both dismounted, he took my hand in his and led us inside. He informed the hostess we wanted a booth, and I didn’t think much of it until we were seated. I slid across the leather-covered bench and started to settle just as he invited himself into the space beside me. I frowned at him in confusion even as I made room for the both of us.
“Sparky—I know you don’t think I’m gonna sit with a whole ass table between me and those legs in that dress.”
I fought a smile but didn’t argue, reaching for my menu instead. It didn’t take long for either of us to decide what it was we wanted for dinner. He ordered a New York strip steak, I got the filet, and we both opted for a cold beer on tap. Soon after our drinks were delivered and we were left to ourselves for a while, Ben reached over and rested one of his large hands on the exposed skin of my thigh. I glanced down at his touch, acknowledging to myself how much I liked his possessive hold.
Absentmindedly, I traced my fingertips across the barbed wire bracelet he had tattooed around his wrist, and I liked that, too. Innocent, light touches. It spoke of an intimacy I’d somehowmanaged to find with the man sitting next to me—an intimacy I never thought I’d know.
“Why barbed wire?” I wondered aloud.
“It’s a reminder.”
I sought out his eyes with my own as I asked, “Of what?”
“The only one who can keep me trapped is me.”
His words wrapped themselves around my heart and grabbed hold of me with a vice grip. The unwelcome reminder that I was trapped—wouldalwaysbe trapped, in spite of my freedom—left me speechless, momentarily robbing me of the happiness I’d found in my fantasy with Benson.
“Hey,” he mumbled, giving my thigh a squeeze.
I shook my head clear, forcing in a breath as I focused my attention on him once more.
Trapped though I was, I still had my secrets. I still had thisthingwith the Stallion at my side. He was my taste of real liberation, and our time wasn’t up. Not yet, anyway.
“Where’d you go just now?”
“Nowhere,” I lied.
He smirked as he nudged me with his elbow. “Bullshit, baby.”
Rather than answer him, I reached for my beer and asked another question.
