Page 35 of Crossing the Line
“Very good, X. You know your bikes.”
“How long have you been riding?”
“Four years. I learned for a movie before the insurance put the kibosh on me doing the stunts. But it was too late. I already loved it.” She patted the gunmetal gray tank. “This was my secret birthday present to myself when I turned eighteen.”
“Are you any good?”
She grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m good. Do you ride?”
“I’ve done my fair share.”
“I’ve got another one, if you’re interested,” she nodded toward the bike-shaped tarp in the corner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Xavier wasn’t exactly clear on how Waverly had talked him into it, but he found himself astride her sweet Victory Hammer cruising toward the coast with the balmy summer breeze ruffling his suit jacket.
He’d at least had the presence of mind to secure two promises from her. She’d buy them dinnerandstay under the speed limit. They’d ridden through neighborhoods, past gated homes with emerald green lawns and crews of gardeners, through streets neatly lined with identical townhouses in beiges and stucco. When they hit the PCH, the Pacific waters glittering below them.
Once he was confident in her competence on the bike, he let Waverly have the lead. She obviously had a destination in mind, and he was content to watch her back.
With her thick curtain of hair tucked up under her helmet and molded dark backpack, she could have been just another anonymous rider on the road. Except for that long, lean body with curves more impressive than the highway under sexy biker jeans and a tight leather jacket.
He’d had his hands on those curves. And Xavier wasn’t sure how he was ever going to forget it. Or stop wanting more.
They crested a hill, and he watched as Waverly let the bike move with the road, flying downhill. Her laugh through the headset in his helmet went straight to his groin. He accelerated smoothly and pulled alongside her, ready to let her see his displeasure for breaking the rules. But the smile, the unadulterated joy on her face, had him grinning back at her through his visor.
“Try to keep it under eighty, Sinner,” he told her.
She whooped in his ear, and together, they flew through the descent. He knew what she was after, what she’d found in that moment. Freedom. And it was heady.
They slowed with the next ascent, and Xavier spotted a road sign promising food at the next exit. “I think I found dinner,” he said into his headset.
Waverly glanced at the sign and laughed. “Perfect.”
They found the Taco Bell tucked away on a side street in a tiny beach town and parked side-by-side in a parking space. Waverly tugged off her helmet and shook out her hair. Xavier cut the throttle and pried off his own helmet.
“That wasawesome,” Waverly said, twirling in a tight circle between the bikes.
“You can ride,” Xavier admitted, running a hand up the back of his head. She was tantalizing when she was happy. She’d scrubbed off her event makeup and with nothing more than lip gloss and flushed cheeks, she was perfection. The walls were down and she was just a happy, beautiful, California girl.
She shot him that grin that had his cock stirring restlessly.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she winked.
“Well, I didn’t have professional stunt training, but I get by.”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him off the bike. “Come on, X. I’ll buy you dinner.”
“You take your dates to the nicest places,” he commented, letting her pull him into the restaurant.
They went blissfully unidentified at the counter and took their bag of tacos and nachos to go.
Back on the bikes, he let her lead the way to their final destination. She navigated through the little town and just beyond where the traffic was nearly non-existent. There, squeezed between cliff and sea, was a quiet ribbon of sandy beach.
They parked against the dunes, and Waverly shucked off her helmet and jacket. Her boots and socks came next. “Strip,” she ordered, giving him the onceover.
“This isn’t a nude beach is it?”
