A big black motorcycle pulled in front of her. The driver glanced her way, his eyes hidden by dark, reflective aviator shades.
“Get on the bike,” he said in a hard, commanding voice.
She glanced over her shoulder at Rip heading her way.
“Now,” the biker demanded.
Automatically obeying his authoritative tone, she hopped on the bike behind him, then wrapped her arms around his waist as the bike lurched forward. She glanced at Rip’s face as he raced toward her, the expression on his face one of shock.
“No, Marissa. Don’t trust him,” he shouted after them.
At least, that’s what she thought he’d said. Not that she had any reason to believe Rip. He was merely trying to frighten her.
As the bike dodged between the traffic and it started to sink in that she was sitting on the back of a speeding motorcycle, clinging to a man she didn’t even know, it occurred to her that maybe she’d just jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
* * *
Time sped past with the scenery around them as she clung to the stranger on the bike. They’d been riding for about twenty minutes and there was no sign of Rip following them. He might be in pursuit, but would have had to get to his bike, then figure out their path from the town. That wouldn’t have been too hard, though, given there was only one road leading in and out of the small place. Her hope was he’d gone in the other direction.
She wasn’t sure where they were, but the view of the ocean and palm trees which had been the lovely vista around them so far, soon disappeared to become denser foliage as they turned onto a road leading to the interior of the island.
After about an hour, they turned onto another road and soon he pulled off to a clearing and stopped the bike near an idyllic setting complete with a waterfall from a cliff about twenty yards high. He turned off the bike and dismounted. When he pulled off his helmet, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.
He had a strong, square jaw covered with scruff, well defined cheekbones, and tousled, wavy brown hair that begged to be stroked. And his eyes! They were brown, but with a golden hue; almost a dark amber in color.
She drew in a deep breath and stuck out her hand. “Thank you so much. My name’s Marissa.”
His gaze fell on her, those golden eyes assessing, and a shiver ran down her spine. Ignoring her hand, he shoved his helmet in the saddle bag on the side of the bike.
“We’re not stopping for long. Stretch your legs and get some water from the bag if you want it. I’m going for a swim.”
He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the bike, then walked toward the water. Her eyes widened as he continued to strip off his clothes, revealing a broad back, inked with a large bird of prey, wings extended. Then he dropped his pants and she glanced away. But not before she caught sight of the tightest, hottest male ass she’d ever seen.
She climbed off the bike and fished in the saddle bag for a bottle of water, then pulled it out and took a deep sip. A splash alerted her to the fact he’d dived into the water. She walked partway to the water’s edge and sat on a big rock. She’d love to go in the calm, clear water, too. And since she had her bathing suit on under her clothes she did not have to strip down to nothing. But going in the water with the naked man… wouldn’t that be inviting trouble?
She breathed in the hot, heavy air and sweat trickled down her neck and between her breasts. She was sweaty and tired and a dip in the water would revive her.
Ah, hell, trouble was already snapping at her heels. If the guy was going to attack her, her being in or out of the water wouldn’t matter, so she might as well enjoy a nice swim.
She stood up and stripped off her shirt and short denim skirt, then dropped them on the rock. She kicked off her sandals and walked toward the water. The man tread water about ten yards from the small strip of sand. His gaze followed her and her skin tingled at his masculine perusal.
She waded into the water. The bottom sloped deeply so she was quickly in over her head and started to swim. She loved the water and after a few strokes, turned on her back and floated. After a few minutes, she switched to treading water again and realized the man was on the beach, sitting on the sand. Still totally naked.
She swam back to shore. He seemed like the impatient type and she didn’t know if he would decide to climb back on the bike and take off. She walked from the sandy bottom of the water to the small beach, then to the rock and picked up her shirt.
“You’re soaking wet,” the man said. “You can take a few minutes to sit and dry off.”
She nodded and walked to the sand. There were only patchy areas of sunlight making its way through the dense foliage, so she picked a sunny spot a couple yards from where he sat.