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"Maybe."
Dean looks me over like he’s never seen a woman before. Finally, he gives me one short laugh, takes the helmet hooked to the bike, and hands it to me.
I’m stunned. I didn’t think he’d go through with it. "Wait, are you serious?"
Dead grabs his own helmet, hefting it from hand to hand as he waits on me. "Absolutely."
I bite my lip. "I'm not sure about this."
“Oh, no. No backing out now, princess. You wanted to."
"I know, but..."
"But what?"
"This is a bad idea. This is a very, very bad idea. Like, it's a terrible idea."
"You think so?" He crosses his arms, placing the helmet on the motorcycle seat. “Then why did you ask?”
I look at the helmet, then at the motorcycle. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea. So many. But I want it. Oh, how I want it.
“I guess I was just curious.” Why in the world am I backing out now? Where is my sense of adventure? "I mean…really, really want to but….”
That’s all he needs to hear, shoving his own helmet on his head. "Good. Put the helmet on."
He swings a leg over the bike and gets situated, looking back at me. "Get on behind me, Delia."
I gulp, my stomach swooping. I shouldn't.
"Come on, princess. Get on the bike. The sooner you're holding on to me, the better."
Shit, his words are just so dirty and delicious. How the hell is this happening to me?
"Okay." I breathe. "Okay."
"Hop on, sweetheart."
I do.
"Wrap your arms around my waist," Dean orders, and I do, the muscles of his stomach tensing.
"I was serious when I said I'd never been on a motorcycle before," I admit. "Is it safe?"
"With me, it is."
I'm not sure what to make of that. I’m not sure what to make of any of this! But I believe him. For some reason, I believe the safest place for me is by his side.
"Hold on, princess. Here we go."
He starts the bike and it rumbles to life, making my whole body vibrate. "Holy shit!"
Dean laughs. "Alright, princess. Time to go. Just relax and let me handle it."
The ride is so much more intense than I could have imagined. The wind in my face, the roar of the bike, and the feeling of holding onto Dean, of my body pressed against his. It's the best thing I've ever experienced. It’s colder than I expected, and my hoodie doesn’t quite kill the chill as much as I’d like, but Dean radiates heat like a furnace and I’m free to press up against him all I want. I mean, I shouldn’t, but I do.
When he stops at stop lights and signs, he always lays his hand over mine, checking on me to make sure I’m still okay. By the time we reach the restaurant, I'm absolutely positive this is not a man who's just going to let his son's girlfriend go. And even though it's so damn wrong, I don't think I want him to.
You just met this guy, Delia Watson! My conscience screams. Stop fantasizing.
