Fly with Me (18 page)

“Yep.” Leaning
his forearm on the helmet, he studied her. “Couldn’t sleep,
huh?”

Her gaze shot
back up to meet his. “I slept just fine.”

“Sure.”

Her back
stiffened a little but she kept her tone coolly civil. “Going to
work early?”

“I’m on days
off now.”

“Nice.”

“Yep. I was
actually looking for you.”

Surprised, she
blinked. “You were?”

He nodded.
“I’m on my way to check how Arthur fared overnight and thought you
might like to come along for the ride.”

Now this was
unexpected. “Oh, I’m not sure-”

“Ever been on
a motorbike, Lis?” His eyes narrowed a little with his growing
smile, the laughter lines fanning out from the corners of his
eyes.

She looked
dubiously at the black and chrome metal beast. “No.”

“Then let me
introduce you to the pleasures to be had from riding one.” Half
turning, he reached back to unfasten what she now saw was another
helmet strapped to the back of the motorbike.

Ride on that
motorbike? Straddle that beast? Elissa eyed it nervously. Cripes,
it was big, heavy, yet it made her feel vulnerable to even think of
being on the back of it. “Yeah. No. Simon, I’m not sure about
this.”

“Trust me,
Lis, you’ll love it.” He held out the helmet. “Just put this on,
swing a leg over, settle down, hold on to me and enjoy the
ride.”

Swing a leg
over? Her eyes widened even as she automatically reached out and
took the helmet. “Simon-”

“I won’t let
anything bad happen to you. You’re safe with me,” he assured her.
“You don’t have anywhere to be, do you? Apart from breakfast?”

“Well, no,
but-”

“And you’re
open to new experiences, right?”

“I guess
so-”

“And you like
Arthur, right?”

“Well-”

His smile was
wide. “Put on the helmet, Lis, and let’s go.”

She stared at
him for several seconds before looking at the helmet in her hands.
Should she? In the same second she thought, hell, why not? She was
here, she didn’t have to worry about appearances, and that thought
brought to mind how horrified her mother would be if she knew
Elissa was actually contemplating riding on the back of a
motorbike, not to mention Calum’s disapproving face.

That pretty
much cinched it. She had only herself to please, right? Bugger them
all, she was definitely open to new experiences.

“Okay.” She
started to raise the helmet. “Let’s do this.”

“Good girl,”
Simon said. “But hang on there.”

Pausing in the
act of lifting the helmet, she looked at him questioningly.

He crooked a
finger. “Come here.”

Puzzled, she
moved to the side of the bike, his jean clad thigh brushing her leg
as he motioned her closer.

“Turn around,”
he instructed.

Wondering if
there was some other kind of equipment she should be wearing,
Elissa was startled when she felt deft fingers pluck free the clip
that held her hair up. It fell around her shoulders as she swung
back to face him. “What the-”

“Helmet would
never fit with your hair up like that.” He handed her the clip.

For a second
she looked blankly at the clip, then realisation dawned. “Oh.”

“Put the
helmet on, sweetheart, then swing up behind me.” He patted the
seat.

The seat right
behind his very nice, firm arse. Oh boy. She’d never ridden a
motorbike but she’d seen pillion passengers. Some of them sat close
behind the rider,
real
close. Like tucked up to the rider,
their thighs behind his, body pressed close, arms around their
waists.

Tucked up
close to Simon’s strong back, his muscular thighs… Just the thought
had her a little giddy.

“Lis?” he
queried.

Pulled from
her thoughts, she managed to smile at his quizzical expression.
“Just thinking.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, here
goes.” She pulled the helmet over her head, feeling the strangeness
of it as it settled. Unsure exactly how to fasten the strap, she
fumbled at it.

Simon brushed
her hands away, long fingers deftly securing the strap, pulling it
so it rested snugly beneath her chin. Leaning back, his eyes
crinkled in amusement. “Yep, one bad bikie chickie.”

“You’re an
arse,” she replied pertly.

“Bad bikie
arse?”

Well, he’d
given her an open invitation to feast her eyes on his form, so she
took it with both hands. Gladly. A touch debauchedly, because her
thoughts weren’t as analytical as she made her expression. Her
expression said studious. Her thoughts were -
oh God, he’s so
hot!

Face it, in a
leather jacket, heavy boots, straddling the metal beast, he had a
touch of the bad boy look, no doubt about it, but then she met his
twinkling eyes, that mischievous glint in the depths, and he -
well, hell, he just looked like a mischievous bad boy bikie.

One dark red
eyebrow arched.

She arched a
brow back. “I rather think a lot of girls in town think your arse
is bad boy.”

His grin
widened. “Yeah, but what do
you
think?”

“Your arse is
pretty fine, as arses go.”

“Hmmm.” His
gaze dropped suddenly, catching her off guard.

Holy heck, the
man was looking at her. Like,
really
looking at her. Not
lecherously, not sleazily, but with frank admiration.

Shit, she was
used to men looking at her when she sang up on stage. Used to being
looked at, picked apart and criticised by her mother and Calum, had
even had a few lustful looks towards her undoubtedly bountiful
breasts, but no man had ever looked her up and down with such
candid approval. Not her generous figure.

It was in turn
both unnerving and titillating to have Simon drawling in open
appreciation, “And your arse, sweetheart, is a fine handful.”

For the first
time in her life, Elissa was speechless.

He looked
steadily at her for several seconds while she could only stand
there like a fish out of water, mouth hanging open.

Thank God
there were no flies around.

Then his eyes
crinkled at the corners, totally disarming her, but before she
could rally her scattered - okay, sizzling, no point lying -
thoughts, Simon slapped the seat behind him before turning to the
front. “Righto, Lis, hop on and hold on.”

It was either
do as he said or continue standing there like an idiot. Elissa
stood next to the bike, took a deep breath.

“Grab my
shoulders for balance.” He pulled on his helmet.

Thank God he
wasn’t watching because she was pretty sure her leg swinging left a
lot to be desired, not to mention the fact that she was a lot
shorter than he. And not to mention that the feel of his broad
shoulders under her hands were making butterflies appear in her
belly.

Not a complete
drongo, she knew the pedals were for her feet, so she settled her
sneakers on them as she sat, and then holy heck, she slid right up
against him. Her mound encased in slacks nudged right up against
that firm arse clad in jeans. That had the butterflies suddenly
going hot. Oh yeah, did it ever. The inside of her thighs were
pressed along the muscular length of his outer thighs.

His helmet hid
his face from view as he half turned his head to continue
instructing her. “Put your arms around my waist, hold tight.”

Oh
yeah
.

“All you have
to remember is to lean the same way as I do when we’re turning.
Don’t be afraid, I won’t tip the bike. Don’t pull in the opposite
direction, just go with me, be an extension of me. Okay?”

“Yes.” Her
arms slid around his waist, her breasts flattening against his
back. Realising that maybe she was too close, she eased back a
little.

“Hang on as
tight as you want.” His voice was deliciously deep. “Close as you
feel safe.”

Cripes, the
man was hard-bodied. Strength pressed up against her. If it wasn’t
for the helmet, she’d lean her head against his back and just
melt
into him.

Good God, this
bike ride was doing things to her and they weren’t even moving
yet.

“If you get
scared,” Simon instructed, “just tug on my jacket, I’ll pull over.
Understand?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.”
He dropped the visor on his helmet.

Oh boy, if she
was a dog she’d be wagging her tail. What the hell was wrong with
her?

Then Simon
throttled, the engine rumbled powerfully, his muscles against her
flexed, shifted, and the bike moved forward. He throttled firmly,
building up speed, and she snugged hard against him, her grip
tightening.

Okay, now she
knew what was wrong with her. She was pressed up against a
mouth-watering hunk of man who had the power to make the
butterflies in her stomach turn into wicked, liquid heat. Or maybe
that was the powerful bike beneath her vibrating her nether
regions.

Kind of like
comedy films where women sat on an operating washing machine and
orgasmed.

Cripes, she
hoped she didn’t orgasm on the bike. How could she explain slipping
off the seat?

Geez,
Elissa, get a grip
. As ludicrous as the thought was, she
couldn’t help but grin.

As the bike
moved swiftly along the road she turned her head to see the
openness. It was strange not being surrounded by metal and glass,
maybe just an open window between her and the outside passing by.
But on the bike the openness surrounded her, nothing between her
and the wind except the big body in front of her protecting her
from full-on facial wind.

It was
exhilarating, her heart pumping faster as she feasted her eyes on
the passing scenery. Excitement filled her, sheer happiness at
being so free. The power beneath her, the strength in front of her,
knowing that the man controlling the bike kept them both safe, that
he protected her.

Invigorated,
she turned her head to the other side, watching the houses flash
past, gardens and trees.

The bike
slowed and Simon leaned slightly to the side. Remembering his
instructions, she followed, plastering herself against his back as
fear kicked in but trusting him, she leaned further as he did, and
then the bike was coming upright, Simon following, she copying
everything he did.

Fear vanished,
elation filling her again, and the next turn she angled with Simon,
this time less fearfully, and when the final turn approached she
leaned with him without a shred of apprehension.

Bringing the
bike to a stop, Simon braced booted feet on the ground and turned
off the engine, the sudden quiet almost loud in its intensity after
the heavy rumble of the powerful motorbike.

Taking the
helmet off, he turned to flash her a grin over his shoulder. “Still
with me, sweetheart?”

With him? She
was plastered so hard against his back that she couldn’t wedge a
piece of paper between them. “Yep.”

He laughed,
patting her hands where she had a death grip on his leather jacket.
“You can get off now.”

Okay, she’d
enjoyed the ride but she hadn’t realised how hard she’d been
gripping him. Releasing his jacket, she pulled her arms away and
leaned back, the chill morning air invading the warmth where she’d
pressed against him.

Knowing he was
waiting, she swung off the bike, locking her knees that were
surprisingly a little wobbly, hiding it from him. But she couldn’t
stop the rushing of her blood, the huge smile that she flashed him
as she tried to unfasten the strap.

Simon took one
look at her and, chuckling, he swung off the bike and placed his
helmet on the fuel tank. Turning to face her, he was a sight in his
leather jacket, jeans and boots, but his eyes twinkled, his
handsome face wreathed in shared amusement and obvious delight that
she’d enjoyed the ride.

Automatically
she dropped her hands as he reached out to unfasten the strap
beneath her chin. He drew the helmet off carefully to place it on
the seat of the motorbike.

Her hair was a
mess, tumbling around her shoulders in total disarray, but right
then she didn’t care, gathering it haphazardly back with one hand
as she grinned up at him. “That was
awesome
!”

Laughing,
Simon slid one arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him to
drop a kiss on top of her mussed hair. “We’ll make a bikie chick of
you yet.”

For a few
seconds she melted into him, welcoming the strength of him, his
scent slipping through her - clean male, fragrant soap, a touch of
aftershave. But then she suddenly realised that he had his arm
around her, had
kissed
her head and - and heck, she didn’t
care. She really didn’t give a rat’s arse. Happiness filled her,
the rush of blood, the freedom, and she tilted her head back to
laugh up at him.

There was a
flicker in his eyes, that strong, classically handsome face warming
with something more than laughter. “Laughing suits you, Lis.”

“It’s been
awhile since I had something to laugh at.” She hadn’t meant for
that to be voiced, stiffening slightly in the circle of his
arm.

“Then I guess
I better see to it that you laugh a whole hell of a lot more.”
Unexpectedly he dragged her into him once more, dropped another
kiss on top of her head before straightening, his arm sliding down
to rest his hand on her waist as he turned her before she knew it
and started leading her down the driveway. “Come on, bikie chick,
we’ve got a cranky old cat to find and feed.”

Cripes, how
did he do it? She should be offended, maybe called him on that
too-familiar hug and kiss, but somehow he made it seem so harmless,
so warm, so freakin’ natural, and he moved with such ease, just
strolling along and taking her with him.

To be honest,
she liked it. Liked his easiness, his warmth, the way he just
accepted her. Laughed with her.