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Swinging my gaze, I see the As Above RV lit up on the inside, two bikes parked up close and the helmet that Fin snags to shove in my direction.
This is such a bad idea.
I accept the helmet, plant the thing on my head, and watch as Fin’s powerful thighs mount the blacked out bike I’ve only seen in his online pictures.
The air charges when he looks over at me, that mischievous look back in his eyes. “C’mon, sweet,” Fin says in the voice that feels like the crunch of a gravel driveway running straight up to my missing panties. “Spread those thighs for me.”
Yep, that’s fucking hot.
The engine roars to life between us, accenting his words with such power that I would have soaked the panties anyway.
If I were wearing any.
“Oh, goddamnit.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fin
TheheatofCedarwrapped around me has my cock hardening in my jeans again and my grip tight on the clutch.
I don’t weave as hard or drive as fast with Cedar on the back, but I do enjoy the whip of wind that rushes past me and sends chills over her clammy skin.
It feels … freeing.
Like walking up on stage for the first hundred times to find the crowd just a little bit bigger than last time.
Like nailing that solo that drives the masses wild.
Or being nominated for all the years and hard work of playing the best goddamn guitar this generation has seen. And then winning.
Only to come back to the table where my brothers sat to see Cedar there among them with her eyes glued to me.
Those haunted blue eyes smiling at me, clapping for me and my band, even after her best friend announced her pregnancy.
She’s been in the background ever since, a faint reminder, a distant desire that never felt unobtainable until her ass decided to crash into me at the party.
And I’ve been chasing her ever since.
Shit.
Leaning back, I pull on the throttle and ease us into a slower pace along the dark country roads illuminated by the single headlight that leads back to her daddy’s place.
Jesus Christ, I met her father today.
I might get my ass hit a second time, but it doesn’t matter that my knuckles still ache or my jaw is going to show some bruising tomorrow. Or that she might lose her shit at both of us for acting like cavemen over her when she clearly doesn’t want or need it.
But she deserves it. The respect, the protection.
The backup.
None of it matters because it’s led me right to this moment. This rush of being wrapped up in the only one I’ve ever given more than a flying fuck about. The one woman I wantto see tomorrow instead of running her off before she can pass out in my bed like every other broad that’s darkened my doorstep.
Everyone that came before her was just practice.
Slowing the bike, I pull off into the gravel skirt of someone’s long as shit driveway and run my hand along the chilled forearms wrapped around my torso.
“What are you doing, Fin?”
