Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
‘I don’t know, can you?’
‘I think I definitely can.’ He smiles, and I drop my head. ‘I’ll always make it better, remember that.’ he adds confidently.
I give myself whiplash when I snap my head up to look at him. ‘But you made it shitty in the first place!’
He pouts, hanging his head. I think he’s ashamed. Good. He should be. ‘I can’t help it.’ He shrugs guiltily.
‘Of course you can!’ I exclaim.
‘No, with you, I can’t help it,’ he states in a matter-of-fact tone – a tone that suggests he completely gets it. I, however, never will. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me over to his bike and presents me with a large paper bag.
‘What’s this?’ I ask, looking into the bag.
‘You’ll need them.’ He reaches into the bag and pulls out a pile of black leather.
Oh, no! ‘Jesse, I’m not getting on that thing.’
He ignores me, unfolding the trousers and kneeling in front of me, holding them open for me to step into. He taps my ankle. ‘On.’
‘No!’ He can give me a sense fuck or the countdown all he likes – it’s not happening. No way. Hell will freeze over. He’s trampled all over my day, and now he wants to kill me on that death trap?
He heaves a tired breath and rises to his feet. ‘Listen to me, lady.’ He cups my cheek with his palm. ‘Do you honestly think I would let anything happen to you?’
I look at his soft eyes, clearly trying to reassure me. No, I don’t think he would let anything happen to me, but what about all of the other road users? They don’t give a toss about little old me on the back of that death trap. I’ll fall off, I know it.
‘They scare me.’ I admit. I’m such a baby.
He bends down, getting nose to nose with me, his minty breath soothing me. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘Yes.’ I answer immediately. I trust him with my life. It’s my sanity I don’t trust him with.
He nods, dropping a kiss on the end of my nose before kneeling back down in front of me. I lift my foot when he taps my ankle, my heart flickering with nervousness as he removes my ballet pumps, feeds my feet into the trousers and pulls the leathers up my body, fastening them swiftly. Next, he collects a fitted, leather jacket and takes my bag before putting the jacket on me, followed by a pair of boots.
‘Take the pins out your hair.’ he orders, putting my pumps and my new taboo dress in my oversized work bag. I’m surprised he didn’t throw it to the ground and trample all over it.
I reach up and start removing my grips. ‘Where are your leathers?’
‘I don’t need them.’
‘Why, are you indestructible?’
He holds the helmet above my head. ‘No, lady, self-destructible.’
Huh? ‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing,’ He dismisses my question and pushes the helmet onto my head, effectively shutting me up. He starts adjusting the chin strap, leaving me feeling like my head’s been squeezed into a condom. I flex my neck from side to side, and he flips the visor up.
‘You should wear protective clothing.’ I admonish him. ‘You’re making me.’
‘I’m not prepared to take any risks with you. Anyway...’ He smacks my arse, ‘you look fucking hot.’ He lengthens the strap on my bag, putting it across my body and around my back. ‘When I’m on, put your left foot on the peg and swing your right leg over, okay?’
I nod, and he puts his own helmet on. I watch, admiringly as he swings his long leg over, starts the bike and stands it up between his powerful thighs. I’m shitting myself. He looks at me as I stand on the pavement and nods his instruction for me to climb on. I reluctantly step forward, place my hand on his shoulder and follow through on his instructions, vaulting my right leg over, soon finding myself straddling his waist.
‘I feel too high.’
He turns his head. ‘You’re fine. Now, hold on around my waist but not too tight. When I lean, gently lean with me and don’t put your feet down when I stop. Keep them on the pegs. Clear?’
I nod. ‘Okay.’ Oh shit, what am I doing?
‘Put your visor down.’ he orders, flipping his own into position.
I do as I’m bid and lean forward, hugging my arms around his chest and squeezing my knees on either side of his hips. I feel like a national hunt jockey. My nerves are all over the place, but there’s a little excitement lingering somewhere.
The vibrations of the engine travel through me as Jesse revs the engine, backing onto the road with his feet. Then slowly and smoothly, he pulls into the traffic. My heart is hammering in my chest, my thighs gripping his hips stupidly hard. I loosen my clench slightly when my arms and legs begin to ache. I’m not ignorant to the fact that he’s obviously taking it easy with me on board, and I love him all the more for it. He brakes lightly, takes corners smoothly and I find myself naturally mimicking the bikes movements. I love it. This is a complete surprise; I’ve always hated motorbikes.