Page 9 of Riding with the Shifter

I’m never letting you go.

So hang on tight, sweetheart.

‘Cause this wolf?

He’s playing for keeps.

Eight

Chapter 8

ZARA

“So, what do you say we work off those calories with a little ride?” Ryder asks after our second non-date dinner I agreed to.

I raise an eyebrow, my heart doing a little flip at the gleam in his eye. “A ride? On that death trap you call a motorcycle?”

He clutches his chest in mock offense, making me giggle. “Death trap? You wound me. I’ll have you know, my baby is a precision machine. Also, I’d never let anything happen to you.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping to a low, deep, intimate rumble. “C’mon, Zara. Let me show you what it’s like to fly.”

Oh hell. How am I supposed to resist that? The man is pure temptation wrapped in leather, and the thought of being pressed up against all those hard, hot muscles…

“Okay,” I hear myself blurt, my pulse already kicking into high gear. “But if you get me killed, I’m gonna haunt you till the day you die.”

Ryder’s grin is blinding. “Promises, promises.”

Before I can second-guess myself, he’s leading me over to his bike, his large hand warm and callused around mine. Oh sweet baby Jesus, this man…

But as Ryder settles on his bike, all powerful grace and sexy swagger, I can’t bring myself to regret my impulsive decision. Especially not when he hands me a helmet and pats the seat behind him in invitation.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart. And don’t be shy, I don’t mind wandering hands.”

He winks, making me warm to the roots of my hair, but I climb on the bike, fitting myself against Ryder’s broad back like I was made to be there. Oh. Oh wow. Every lean, hard inch of him is flush against me, and the rumble of the engine between my thighs…

Let’s just say my panties are in serious danger of combustion.

“Ready?” Ryder asks over his shoulder, his blue eyes dancing wickedly.

“As I’ll ever be,” I manage.

Then he’s revving the engine and we’re off, roaring out of the parking lot and onto the open road. I yelp, my arms instinctively tightening around Ryder’s waist as the wind whips past us, the world blurring into a kaleidoscope of color and sensation.

Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! We’re going so fast, the road disappearing under the wheels in a dizzying rush. It’s terrifying, thrilling, completely insane… and I fucking love it.

Ryder was right, damn him. It does feel like flying, like breaking free of gravity, reason, and all the careful confines of my quiet little life. Up here, with the engine roaring and the wind in my face, I feel wild. Reckless. Alive.

I find myself relaxing into Ryder’s body, melting against him as I give myself over to the ride. He handles the bike with expert skill, leaning into the curves and opening up the throttle on the straightaways until we’re all but flying down the mountain roads.

It’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced, and I never want it to end. I want to stay here forever, wrapped around my motorcycle boy, with nothing but the road, the wind, and the pounding of our hearts.

But all too soon, Ryder is slowing down and pulling off onto a scenic overlook, the bike rumbling to a stop at the edge of the world. I climb off on shaky legs, my body still buzzing with adrenaline, and my head spinning with the sudden stillness.

“Wow,” I breathe, pulling off my helmet to stare out at the moonlit valley below. “That was… incredible. I had no idea it would feel like that.”

“Like what, baby?” Ryder asks, coming up beside me, his shoulder brushing mine and sending sparks down my spine.

“Like… like freedom,” I murmur, struggling to put the sensations into words. “Like letting go of everything, all my worries and fears. Just existing in the moment, wild and alive.”

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