Page 14 of Catching Flynn

“Great. Dying with surround sound.” Flynn grimaced, wishing he would buffer his thoughts better instead of letting them all hang out.

Chuckling under his breath, Zavier swung a long leg over the bike, then planted both boots on the ground. He glanced back over his shoulder. “She’s steady. You can climb on. I won’t let you fall.”

Flynn bit his lip. This was it. Get on or chicken out. And do what? Go home and stare at the walls. Routine and predictability were what got him in the mess in the first place. He needed to live a little, take chances, and experience new things.

One deep breath, then another. With a single nod, Flynn placed his sneaker on the large peg while gripping one of Zavier’s shoulders. Zavier reached behind, resting a hand on Flynn’s side to steady him.

The seat felt firmer than it had looked, and warm from the glaring sun. Flynn settled down behind Zavier, becoming very aware of Zavier between his legs.

“This is very intimate” Flynn muttered. “How am I supposed to concentrate when his butt is practically sitting on my crotch?”

“Need you to bend with me on turns.” Zavier glanced at him from the side mirror. “And hold on tight.”

Oh god! The Bluetooth. Zavier had clearly activated them because Flynn had just heard that silky voice practically purring in his ear.

How long had they been connected?

Mortified, Flynn slid his hands around Zavier’s side.

“Tighter.” Zavier reached back, caught Flynn’s wrists, and pulled them around his middle patting Flynn’s fingers. “Keep your hands here at all times. Right against my stomach.”

Heat climbed all the way to Flynn’s ears. Under his palms, Zavier felt solid, all warm muscle and—oh god. The man’s abdomen had to be carved from granite. Under his fingertips, Flynn could feel every ridge and cut, making him wonder how often Zavier hit the gym.

Flynn curled his fingers in so he would stop touching the guy.

Then he uncurled them when Zavier tapped Flynn’s hands.

“Let them rest naturally against me.”

Everything on Flynn was resting against him. By the time this ride was over, Flynn would have a serious case of blue balls.

“Ready?”

“No!” He shouted for some reason.

“You can talk at a normal level, kitten. Shouting hurts the ears.”

“Sorry,” Flynn whispered. “Is this a good volume, or should I go even lower?”

“You’re screwing with me.”

“You would be correct,” Flynn said in a normal tone. “You’re rather easy to screw with.”

The bike came to life beneath them with a deep, rumbling growl. The sound vibrated straight through Flynn’s thighs, his cock, then up into his teeth.

What had he gotten himself into?

“Breathe,” Zavier’s silky voice came through the helmet speaker.

“I am breathing. Badly, but doing it.”

The bike inched from the curb with a smooth roll.

“I’m sort of freaking out.” Flynn hugged Zavier harder, no longer caring about what his legs were bracketing. Every muscle in his body had locked up.

He latched on like a panicked tree frog, bracing for whatever speed Zavier decided to torture him with.

The motorcycle tire inched away from the curb. Could they use this speed the entire time?