Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Her smile widens as I continue to stand there and just stare at her. Unlike me, it seems Zara doesn't have a problem being the center of attention. I can't decide if I like or loathe the way she sits a little higher on the bike when she notices me watching her lips. Does she think she can manipulate me? Is she just happy to have my attention there?
Despite thinking it could be either of those choices, it doesn't stop me from wanting to trace the upper curve of her mouth with the very tip of my finger or maybe my tongue.
Then her hands are reaching out, her fingers gripping the bottom hem of my leather jacket, and my first instinct, the initial reaction I have to her pull, is to step in closer to her. That's when I know that maybe this woman does have at least a little power over me, and that just can't happen.
I open my mouth to tell her to get the fuck off my bike, but the shake of her head stops those words before they can form on my tongue.
"Don't chicken out on me now, Owen."
The sound of that fake name on her lips makes me open my mouth for another reason, but making a confession about who I really am isn't possible. I straighten and remind myself of who I am and what I'm doing here.
"Ready?"
She dips her head in a nod as she releases my jacket, leaning back to make it easier for me to climb on the bike without kicking her.
Before I can put the bike in gear, she covers my back, her arms circling me as much as she can, her hands not reaching and making me realize our size difference.
My heart rate changes like it always does when she's close, and, for some reason, less than a minute after I pull out onto the road, I lift my hand from the handlebar and cover one of hers with it.
Before long, I have to pull it free because the next curve will require both hands in order to clear it safely. It shoots a mix of relief and regret swirling in my gut.
My bike follows the curves of the mountain, our climb slow and relaxing. With each twist and turn, her hands glide lower on my body, leaving my stomach, and inching toward my crotch. By the time we're near the overlook, both of her hands are covering my cock.
Instead of reaching down and pulling them free, like I know I should in order to maintain control of this situation, I reach down and press one hand on top of hers, making her press harder against me.
I swear the heat between her legs pressing against my ass increases, and just that thought makes me want to pull the fucking bike over, bend her over the fucking seat, and shove inside of her.
My blood is pumping, my body on fire, as we make it to the top. It shouldn't be such a struggle to decide whether to make the U-turn and descend the mountain or to park and feed that need that's growing inside of me.
When we get to the very top, she doesn't speak when I turn the bike off, letting the world settle around us, darkness swirling, the clouds swimming in and out of the stream of moonlight.
Chapter 10
Zara
There's just something about fresh mountain air that makes me feel wild and free. Riding on the back of Owen's bike is much different from any ride I ever shared with Billy. Owen is easily twice Billy's size, and not once, even on some of the sharpest curves when we had to really lean into them, did I feel unsafe.
Owen commanded this piece of machinery like it was an extension of his own body, as if he's done nothing but drive this thing his entire life. There was a sense of safety in that for me, but the security I felt begins to fade the second he turns the bike off at the overlook.
Despite the cold air that's gently blowing against us, all I feel is the warmth of his body against mine.
Along with the wildness scratching at my skin, I also feel a sense of bravery, as if I can be anyone on the top of this mountain. My history doesn't matter. The fact that I haven't been attracted to any man in a very long time is a distant memory. None of it matters in this moment.
Surprisingly, he doesn't jerk my hands away from his body, but he doesn't press his hands to mine, forcing me to touch him hard either. It seems he's leaving it to me, but I also know just how easily his mood can shift. He wanted me the other night. I felt the proof of it against my back, but it still didn't stop him from walking away. The man has more control and restraint than I've ever seen, and there's something alluring about that.