Page 11 of Mommy

I have never—not once—been on a motor bike, and I wouldn’t have expected to be doing it tonight. But here I am, carefully climbing onto the machine behind a near stranger.

He’s Ezekiel’s friend. That’s a safe stranger. And he’s a police officer.

Or at least, I’m pretty sure he is. He might as well be, or a very good stripper. He definitely has the body to be one. Toned abs and round shoulders, a back wide enough for me to sleep on…

The engine roars the life beneath us and I can feel the rumble of it deep in my core. It sends heat between my thighs and I’m glad the helmet covers my face. Not that Derek would actually look at me. He has his head turned to the side, waiting.

“What?” I ask. Now my voice is muffled by the helmet too.

“Your hands, little poison.” I have to concentrate to understand him. “Put them around my waist. Wouldn’t want you to fall off.”

I snort, rolling my eyes at the nickname, but obediently put my arms around his waist, locking my hands in front of his navel. I feel his chuckle more than hear it. It causes his abs to contract under my palms, hard little packs that aren’t covered by the tiniest bit of fat.

And then we speed off.

The power of the engine has my stomach lurching with every corner. I’m painfully aware that I’m not wearing any gear, and if we fall, I will leave more than a little skin on the asphalt. Holding on to Derek for dear life I barely register that the tree lines around the shelter have turned into beautiful rows of single family homes.

We pull into a driveway and Derek kills the engine.

Before us sits a beautiful house, with a white wooden facade, double winged windows and a sturdy looking front door. The perfectly mowed lawn definitely has nothing in common with the splotchy brown grass that takes up residence in front of my mom’s house.

“I don’t live here.” I deadpan, waiting for Derek to turn to me after he got off the bike.

He pulls the helmet from his head, meeting my stare with an amused twinkle in his green eyes.

His blond hair is tussled from the helmet and a black and white balaclava covers the lower half of his face. Pulling it down, he grins.

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t mean your home. I just meant I’m taking you home.” He gestures to the house behind him, a smirk pulling on his lips. “My home.”

My mouth falls open, but of course he can’t see that. The helmet is still on my head, keeping my gape private.

Is he flirting?

Or is he making fun of me?

Is he serious?

This is kidnapping, right?

None of the questions make it past my lips and before I can draw a breath to protest, Derek reaches for me.

His large hands curve around my waist and he effortlessly lifts me from my spot on the back of the bike.

Even though I should be intimidated, he is not scary. Not even a little bit. I’m pretty sure my self defence system is broken, because despite what is happening right now, I feel… safe.

He flicks up the visor of my helmet, his eyes searching the little that is visible of my face. Very slowly he leans down.

He is so much taller than I am.

Derek is leaning so close that I can feel his breath on my fluttering eye lids. My own breath catches in my throat, going the wrong way and making me choke on nothing.

Is he going to kiss me?

Stupid question, I have a helmet on. There’s no way he can kiss me.

But he’s so close that without the helmet, he very much could brush his lips against mine.

“Wanna play house, Ivory?”