She bit her lower lip and looked at his shoulder. He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of silky brown hair behind her ear. Touching her felt completely natural, as if he was meant to do this, and as his finger grazed her earlobe he pictured himself kissing it, taking the soft flesh in his mouth and nibbling, sucking, hearing her gasp with pleasure again…
“Can I ask you for something?” she said suddenly, and he found himself lost in the feel of her. And, yeah, right about now she could ask for anything.
“Of course.”
“I want a ride,” she said softly, brown eyes pleading.
He swallowed hard, an image popping into his head—somehow he didn’t think they were referring to the same thing. Why did she insist on speaking in riddles? “Pardon?”
“A ride. I want a ride on the back of your Harley.” She leaned away from him, her smile widening as his vanished. Jake stared at her.
“I was asking you about—”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Details, details.”
“Hardly.”
“Please take me for a ride,” she said again, this time her hands squeezing his waist.
“No way in hell am I taking you on my bike.”
She smiled sweetly, clearly unimpressed by his refusal. “Please.”
He shook his head again. “No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too dangerous for a pregnant woman.”
She groaned out loud. “Drive slow.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Jake.”
“Pregnant women don’t ride on motorcycles, especially not mine.”
“Drive me home. I live two minutes from here. I’ll tell you everything if you just take me for a ride.”
He groaned, running his fingers through his hair.. He looked at her, into those eyes that he just knew would be his undoing.
…
Claire couldn’t stop smiling as Jake grumbled, snapping his helmet on. He had already triple-checked hers. He gave her a glare before hopping on the bike. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. A delicious shiver ran through her body. How many years had she dreamed of this? So blackmailing the future father of her child with the promise that she would reveal all the details behind her eating disorder wasn’t exactly the way she envisioned this scene, but she was on the bike nonetheless.
A part of her was ready to tell Jake everything. If there was any chance for them, if Jake showed signs of the man she had always hoped he’d be, then she’d find out after she told him. But she wasn’t just smiling about the bike victory. His words inside her floral shop made her finally think maybe he felt something more for her than guilty obligation. The way he’d looked at her, his touch, his words, had reached her and made her think maybe her early instincts had been right about him.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Hold on,” he said gruffly. He pulled out onto Red River’s main street and Claire waited, and waited. She waited for him to accelerate, but it didn’t happen. She could have walked faster. She squeezed his waist, and it was as rock-hard as she remembered.
“Jake!”
“What?”
“Drive!”
“I’m not going faster than this, baby. You wanted a ride, this is it.”
“I thought I told you I don’t like being referred to as baby,” she said, ignoring just how good it sounded coming from his lips. How was it possible the man could make the word baby sound so…sexy?
“Well, if I were your husband maybe I’d consider it, but since you refused to marry me, I don’t really care,” he yelled over his shoulder.
She was about to tell him what she thought of that logic when she glanced over and spotted Eunice Jacobs passing them, waving. “Do you realize Mrs. Jacobs just passed us in her Mini Cooper? Better go faster, buddy, or she’ll tell the whole town you drive slower than an old lady,” she said as close to his ear as she could get.
“Hold on,” he said and she felt him accelerate, the low, guttural growl of the motorcycle humming through her body. Her heart pounded and she laughed with delight as they sped over the lift bridge, passing Mrs. Jacobs. She let the memory of this morning go, let thoughts of lunch with her mother fly away, and just reveled in being in this moment with Jake. He didn’t go very fast, but fast enough that she felt the exhilarating rush of the cool wind and the turns. He indulged her and drove through some of the quiet back roads of Red River, taking the long way to her home. She breathed in the cool spring air, the smell of water, of the blooming flowers, of Jake’s leather jacket.
They reached her house a few minutes later. Jake got off the bike first, removing his helmet. Something had changed. As they rode toward her house the playfulness breezed away, and a quiet electricity had started humming between them. She knew he felt it. It was in his eyes, in his face, in the way he moved. Claire took off her helmet and handed it to him, and when her eyes locked with his, a spark ignited and a slow burn started. He held her hand and helped her off the bike.