Much too soon, the road returned to where they’d started, only this time, from the opposite direction. He took the gravel drive leading to his house slowly again, expertly guiding them into the safety of the garage.
Anna was catching her breath, adrenaline coursing through her. She unclasped her hands from Jacob’s waist, but her arms were heavy under the weight of the jacket and they dropped. Dead center. Between his legs. She yanked back her hands as if she’d touched a hot stove. In some ways, that was exactly what she’d done. She gripped his shoulders to climb off the motorcycle. Embarrassment flooded her. She could only imagine what he must be thinking. Was he wondering if that was her awkward attempt at a pass? Because she was wondering the same thing.
Five
Composure was no longer possible. Jacob gripped the motorcycle handlebars, but only to steady himself. Anna and her slender, feminine hands had just stirred primal urges from the depths of his gut. It had been building in the car. The motorcycle ride brought it closer to the boil—her arms coiled around him, her clasped hands pressing into his stomach when he went faster, her thighs pressing into his hips, squeezing him when he took the turns. And then there had been the noises she made—muffled shrieks and cries of excitement. How was a man supposed to live through that without his body responding?
And then she’d touched him there.
He closed his eyes to take the edge off, but the reality was that he wanted her, and he was fairly certain that she wanted him. Was that brush across his crotch her way of sending a message? It didn’t seem at all like Anna’s style—she was subtle and demure, rarely so bold, but she’d been testing limits of late, with her brother and her career. Was she testing Jacob? He had to find out. Every drop of blood circling below his waist was making it impossible to let the question go unanswered.
He dared to open his eyes. She’d removed her helmet. He’d missed the moment when she took it off, but the result was worth it. Her hair was mussed—tousled, nearly disheveled, not at all its usual glossy neatness. He liked it. He liked it a lot. He could picture the rich, dark color against the white sheets of his bed. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy; he hoped not from the brisk autumn air, but from the thrill of the ride, the rush of being close to each other.
He cleared his throat as he climbed off the motorcycle. Now to figure out a way to get the ten or so paces to the gear cabinet where she was standing—his jeans were too snug to make walking a casual affair. He used his helmet to shield himself.
“That was so much fun. Thank you,” Anna said, breaking the silence.
He wasn’t in the mood for skirting things anymore. No purely polite response to her gratitude would come from him. “Isn’t that what a guy does?” He eased out of his jacket and hung it up in the cabinet.
“Does what?” Anna furrowed her brow, climbing out from under the pounds of leather she was wearing.
“Try to impress a woman by showing off.” He placed his helmet on the shelf, then turned to face her square-on. It took considerable effort to obscure his edginess. His attraction to her hadn’t manifested itself this strongly before. His mind was racing to keep up.
She cocked an eyebrow. Her warm brown eyes flashed. “Is that what that was?” Her lips remained parted after the question, the flirtation only provocation to the devil on his shoulder.
“Yes.” He scanned her face, waiting for one more sign—something that said it was a good idea to do what he wanted to do.
A warmth washed across her face. “If that’s you showing off, you can do that all you want.”
And there it was. He sucked in a deep breath of resolve and erased the gap between them. He clasped both hands around her neck, pushing his fingers into the silky hair at her nape and lifting her mouth to his, collecting what he wanted with a tender, but insistent kiss. Her lips were even sweeter than he remembered, the kind of dessert that makes you lick the spoon over and over again, craving one more taste.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, not relinquishing the grip he had on the back of her neck. His thumb caressed the smooth skin below her ear.
“What?” Her eyes were half open, breaths heavy enough to hear.
“Tell me you want me to stop.” His heart raced, part of him begging her to say that she wanted him, part of him knowing that it would be easier on them both if she stopped this right now. Being with Anna, as badly as he wanted her, would be pouring fuel on the flame that had dogged him for too long. “Tell me that you don’t want me to kiss you.”
Her mouth went slack, eyes wide as the day was long. “I can’t,” she muttered.