"Great, thanks, Rocco."
"No problem. I'll see you in ten."
Relief flooded through her. Sometimes things were just that easy. She leaned against the car and waited.
Within minutes, the deep grunt of a sporty motorbike reached her ears, and seconds later, and much to her dismay, a lean black bike pulled up behind her, its rider hunched over it, powerful and muscular, in a pair of black leather biker pants, black biker boots, and nothing else. She actually felt her eyes widening as she surveyed Rocco's huge pecs and bunched shoulder muscles, along with the colorful tattoos that adorned his arms and torso. He pulled off his helmet and shook his hair out. She tried not to notice how sexy his hair looked falling black and tousled around his face.
"Ready?" he said, and annoyance surged through her.
"Rocco, no!" she yelled. "You know I hate motorbikes. You should've told me you were coming on your bike." He pretended to be shocked.
"I thought things had changed."
"Not this." She ran her eyes over the dangerous-looking machine in distaste. Everything about it scared the hell out of her.
"Come on, Harper. It's fine. You'll be safe with me."
"No. I just can't. All I can think about is us having a crash and being smashed to pieces on the road." He looked a touch offended.
"I'm good at this, Harper. I drive in the dark, in the mountains, all the time. I've never had an accident. In fact, I've never heard of a shifter having an accident. We're too fast and agile to get ourselves all fucked up like some clueless human." She sighed out a long breath.
"No, it's okay. I'll just take a taxi to the edge of the territory."
"That's not really possible. You'll still have miles to walk, and you'll have to get let off in a desolate area, which will look suspicious. Xander will freak if he finds out about it."
"Fine, I'll wait for the tow truck then," she snapped, folding her arms.
"Harper, come on. That'll be a long three hours. I'll drive real safe. I'd never let anything happen to you. Please trust me." His eyes were beseeching, and his mouth was serious, devoid of his typical cockiness. She kept looking at the bike. As much as she hated bikes, she had to admit that it looked pretty cool – light and agile, made for racing. She used to hate him riding motorbikes in their teens, convinced that his overconfidence would make him do something stupid. But he hadn't, she conceded. He'd apparently made it all the way to the age of 23 without coming off once.
"You'll go slow? You won't start showing off?" His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared slightly.
"I quit showing off about the time I started shaving," he said in an exasperated tone. She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Three hours was a tediously long time to wait.
"How long will it take us to get back?"
"Forty minutes, give or take."
"Can you put on a shirt or something, so I don't have to cling to your sweaty back at least?" He raised his arms and dropped them again, and she couldn't help but notice how great his pecs looked when he did that.
"I wasn't expecting company, so what you see is what you get, I'm afraid." She used her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Was she imagining it, or were his lips curving into that cocky half smile again? She gave a sigh.
"Okay. I'll ride on the bike with you. But do anything to freak me out, even just a little bit, and you'll be very sorry, Rocco Silvester." This time there was no mistaking the cockiness in his expression. He held the helmet out to her. She frowned.
"But what are you going to wear?" He shrugged.
"I'll be okay." Reluctantly, she took it and pulled it on. It smelled of him – rich, fresh and a little spicy. He helped her fasten the chin strap, then climbed onto the bike and pulled out the passenger footrests. She walked over and tried to swing her leg over the back of the bike, but there was nothing to hold on to and it was awkward.
"I'm afraid you'll have to use me for balance," he said with a smirk. Groaning, she put her arms around his waist and easily climbed onto the back. He guided her feet onto the supports. "Now, sit closer to me. It's a small seat and you'll destabilize me if you're that far back." Unwillingly, she shuffled closer, until the apex of her thighs brushed against his ass, and her inner thighs wrapped around him. It felt intimate. Far too intimate. Even with the visor down, she picked up the scent of his skin, only inches from her face.
"Hold tight!" he told her. She didn't need to be told twice. She gripped him around the waist as tightly as she could. "It's a good thing I don't need to breathe all the way home," he quipped with a laugh. Despite herself, she laughed too and loosened her grip a little. "Just relax, Harper. Sit close and still, and I'll deal with the leaning, okay? And don't worry. I'm going to ride like I'm carrying a box of eggs on my head."
"Okay," she said, knowing he was cracking stupid jokes to relax her.
Rocco was true to his word. He rode very carefully, only overtaking when there was a lot of space, then quickly diverting onto some quiet back roads. Harper hated the first five minutes, visualizing all kinds of disasters, but after a while, she conceded that it was pretty cool being on the bike, out in the open air, feeling so free and light. But all the time she was intensely aware of Rocco's closeness, his skin so soft and velvety beneath her fingers, the way his muscles moved beneath his skin. Riding on the bike was strangely lulling. Rhythmic, hypnotic; kind of sexual. Like she wasn't thinking at all, just enjoying the physical sensations. The powerful engine vibrated beneath her ass, obliterating every other sound, and all she was aware of was the scent of Rocco and the trees and hedgerows, and her hands and arms pressing against his skin. As he came to a stop to allow a deer to cross in front of them, her hands, of their own accord, dropped a good six inches, eager to feel his six pack. And then she snatched them away, horrified. What am I doing? I'm caressing him? It was a reflex action, she told herself. It was just that his stomach felt so familiar. She used to know it better than she knew her own. To her relief, he didn't give any sign that he'd noticed, but she made a concerted effort to sit back from him, holding her body stiffly.
Before long, he left the road and turned onto a dirt track through some woodland. The surface was bumpier than on the tarmac, and she found herself clinging to him again as the bike went up and down a series of gentle slopes. The trees formed a canopy overhead and she realized she was enjoying hurtling along in the dim forest, the air pleasantly damp.
"Are you okay?" he yelled.
"Yeah!" she yelled back.
"Want to go a little faster?"
"Maybe next time," she called.
When Rocco swung around a corner and the narrow pass in the rocks that marked the entrance to Broken Hill territory appeared, she was surprised to discover that she was disappointed. She would've happily ridden in the woods for another half hour.
The bike came to a stop outside the cabin, and she pulled the helmet off.
"Was that okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. Not as bad as I expected." She leaned on him heavily as she climbed off.
"Watch your step," he advised. "Your legs are going to be a little shaky."
"And how do you know that?" she said, trying to ignore the fact that her muscles currently felt like Jell-o as she swung her right leg over the bike. And then she stumbled as she hit the ground.
"Steady." He reached out and caught her arm, the roughness of his hand on her flesh startling her. "Because your thighs were gripping me like you wanted to crush the life out of me," he said with a grin. A flash of heat warmed her cheeks.
"Oops. Sorry. I didn't realize. Guess I was just a little nervous."
"You didn't need to be, Harper. I'd never let anything happen to you." His voice was husky, and she noticed at the same time that sunlight was threading his eyes, making them a dazzling shade of spring green, and that he hadn't let go of her arm. His touch was electric, making her skin super-sensitized. Why did he have to be so goddamn handsome? His lips were parted as he watched her, and the memory of kissing them floated up in her mind. His eyes flickered all over her face, assessing her.