Page 30 of Taming the Bear
“Easy for you to say,” she gripes.
I chuckle and hop onto my bike. “You should be proud to know that you’re the first woman to ride on this bike. Congrats.”
With my back facing her, I can’t tell if she’s smiling but I can only assume that she likes this revelation. “Good.”
We don’t speak as I start up the bike and she grips onto my waist for dear life. I try to not scare her and do anything that’s going to give her a heart attack, but it’s no fun driving without being a little reckless.
After a few minutes, she relaxes her grip and I can breathe again. With each turn that I make, she flows with my body almost as if she’s an extension of me. It feels good to have her on the back of my bike. I like it.
Fuck, I probably like it too much.
Chantal
Why am I grinning like a crazed fool as I’m gripping this hotter than sin man’s abs? Not only is he sexy, but his abs definitely have a pack going on. From what I can feel, it’s at least a six pack.
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much and my eyes begin to open to look at what we are passing. The road is rather busy and people turn to look at us as we drive past them. Joe drives past a few bikers and they chin lift each other as if they knew who Joe was. The feeling of camaraderie is actually quite nice and I wonder if this happens every time he rides past people that are bikers.
I get over the initial fear of riding around on a motorcycle where I could fall to my death. You know? Massive injuries and brain damage type of thing. Now, I’m kind of enjoying it.
He pulls into this driveway that is hidden from the road. If you weren’t looking for it, you would have driven right past it. “Where are we?” I ask as he parks the bike.
Joe pulls out a cigarette and lights it while he’s still balancing the bike with his legs. Damn, he’s got to have some strong muscles to keep this bike from falling over.
Very carefully, he gets off of his bike and then holds his hand out for me. I take it and then get the instructions on how to get off the bike without embarrassing myself. “Slide your right leg over the seat and then hop down.”
I do as instructed and fight the urge to throw my hands up in the air because I was proud of myself. My thighs hum from the intense vibrations of sitting on the seat. Indiscreetly, I rub my thighs in hopes that the vibrations will fade.
“That doesn’t work, baby,” Joe laughs.
“Damn it.”
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
I follow a few steps behind him because I’m still not sure where we are and I don’t want to cause anymore problems for Joe than I already have.
The driveway looks to be freshly asphalted with no cracks or creases in it. I can see a big garage off to the side of the house that has hangar sized doors in it. Does he have a fucking plane?
By the time we get to the front of the house, I’m completely in awe. There’s brick that surrounds the front of the house and a huge wooden door that could fit three people walking into it. Each shutter that is next to a window is painted a deep red to match the wood of the house. A porch is in front with comfy looking chairs and a barbeque pit in front.
Curiosity is plaguing me, and I look around to see if he has any neighbors. Nope, none that I can see.
“Who’s house is this?” I ask him as I take a step back to admire the two story house with a widow’s walk on the top of it. There’s a circular and nautical window in the center of it that makes me long to take a look.
“Mine. We have some shit to discuss and I want no interruptions. Give me your phone.”
Picking my battles and realizing that right now is not the time to pick an argument, I hand over both of my phones. He places them on one of the chairs and then opens his front door by using his fingertips.
“Did you just unlock the door by using your fingerprints?” I question. That is some high tech security systems that he has in place and I wish I would have got that for my house.
He nods and then pushes open the door. I take a step inside and then look around to the high ceilings with vaults through them. A huge screen television is to the left with an overstuffed leather couch. I can see a wet bar next to it and I’m instantly thirsty for a drink.
I have a feeling that this is not going to be a conversation that I’m going to like.
“Go sit on the couch. I’m going to get me a scotch. Do you want one?”
I nod my head and then walk over to the comfy looking couch. I sit at the edge next to the arm rest and wait for him to come back to talk to me. I know that he’s going to ask a bunch of questions but I don’t know if I want to answer them right now. What am I supposed to say to a person that is a stranger to me?
He walks back towards me holding two drinks in his hands and sits next to me on the couch. As I take my glass from him, I fight the urge to chug the contents of it.
