Page 62 of Shades of Loyalty
She’s adorable. But we’re kind of late. I have to remind myself of that.
“Should be,” I grin. “Now, put that leather jacket on. Your outfit truly looks gorgeous, but I need you to wear at least some protection.”
“I’m not gonna wear a normal jeans when we take a bike.”
“Why not? Are you scared, pretty?” I tease her.
Jennifer looks at me with a challenging expression. Oh, I know that look.
“I’m not scared. You think I am?”
Immediately, she gets onto the passenger seat and grins. “I’d never be scared.”
Impressed, I nod. “Good. But I still need you to wear this jacket, and the helmet,” I say, taking a helmet off a hook and handing it to her. “I’m the one who’s worried about your safety here.”
I know she doesn’t want me to worry, but I see a faint blush on her cheeks as she puts the helmet on. God, I’ve never seen a sexier woman before. I could fuck her right here, right now.
I honestly wish I could, but time is running out.
Quickly, I get on my Harley in front of her. A glance at my wristwatch tells me that if I were the type of good guy who never crossed speed limits and cared about traffic laws, we’d be so fucking late.
Good thing I’m not a good guy.
“Hold on tight,” I remind her as the engineroars to life.
I hear her deep sigh as she bends down, her arms slowly wrapping around my body.
“Tighter, baby.”
She grips me harder, making me smirk. “Be a good girl for me and hold on, just like that. We’re gonna have to go over the speed limit to make it in time.”
I can tell she’s rolling her eyes without even having to look at her. She’s pretty predictable. “Perfect,” she mumbles.
Another laugh escapes me. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”
“I’ll remind you of your words once we’re in the hospital.”
“Come on. I know you love holding me this tight,” I murmur over the engine’s hum, revving it just to tease her.
“I’m holding on tight because I don’t trust your driving,” she shoots back, her voice laced with amusement.
I chuckle lowly, twisting the throttle. The Harley surges forward, and we’re off. The wind cuts against my face, but her warmth pressed against my back keeps me grounded.
She’s tense at first—probably thinking I’ll pull some reckless stunt just to mess with her. Maybe I thought about it. But I don’t. I need her to trust me, after all.
As we weave through the streets, I feel her grip shift. What starts with cautious holding onto my body turns into something else, something softer, more trusting.
Her fingers curl into the fabric of my jacket, and every time I lean into a turn, she follows, her body melding perfectly against mine.
It shouldn’t distract me. But it does.
Fuck, she always distracts me just by existing.
Chicago blurs past us, streetlights flickering in the dusk, cars honking faintly in the distance—but all I’m aware of is her.
Her perfume lingers in the air between us, that faint floral scent I can’t get enough of. It mixes with the faint smell of leather and gasoline, creating something entirely addictive.
I pick up speed on the empty stretch of road, and she lets out a startled laugh, holding me even tighter.
