Page 73 of The Rogue and His Flower

“The guys?”

“Yes, Milo, Risk, Elijah and Banks.”

“Oh, wow. That’s… interesting. Do they know?” I ask, curious about the situation.

“Not sure. Possibly. They keep her at arms length though given their close relationship with Tory.”

“Wait, Tory is with the guys?”

Dalton shakes his head. “No, Tory is just their friend. She’s known them for the past couple years since she’s been racing at this track. Besides, she prefers women.”

“I see.” I blow out a breath. “That’s complicated.”

“Frustrating for Swift given the guys are not the type of men to take advantage of a young girl’s crush, especially not the daughter of their friend.”

“Well, I already liked them. Now, I think I like them even more.”

By the time we reach the group, Tory is chatting animatedly with the men, and Swift is checking over her bike, pointedly ignoring the group.

“Swift, you wouldn’t mind lending Daisy some leathers and a helmet, would you? I want to take her for a spin on the track,” Dalton asks as she flicks her gaze his way.

“Sure she doesn’t mind,” Tory answers for her, throwing a look over at her daughter before she can protest.

“Fine. You can borrow my old shit,” Swift says, motioning me to follow her inside the brick building.

“Sorry about this,” I say, trying to appease her because she’s clearly pissed off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Swift mutters, rummaging through her box of gear, tossing me a leather suit and helmet as her gaze assesses me. “These should fit. Just make sure you don’t fall off and ruin them, and we’ll be good.”

“Gosh, I hope not,” I reply but she strides from the room, leaving me to change.

When I step out of the building with the helmet tucked under my arm, Dalton is waiting with his friends, his back to me. Risk lets out a low whistle as I approach, causing Dalton to twist on his heels. I can’t help but notice a flare of heat flickering to life in his gaze, but he quickly recovers.

“Leathers suit you, Daisy,” he says with a grin.

“You think?” I ask, genuinely surprised by his compliment because I feel pretty uncomfortable, given the leather is riding up my arse and is a little too tight around my breasts. I’m almost ten years older than Swift, and she’s clearly a size smaller than me.

“Come on then, let's give you the ride of your life,” he jokes, resting his hand against the small of my back as we head back on to the racetrack.

“I’m nervous,” I admit as he takes the helmet from me and places it on my head. It’s a snug fit, but at least my head will be protected should the worst happen.

“Don’t be. I’ve got you,” he says, his fingers grazing against my jaw as he clips the helmet in place and tightens the strap.

“I’m trusting you to keep me safe, Dalton,” I say.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he replies with a reassuring smile, before he puts on his own helmet then swings his leg over the bike, patting the space behind him. “On you get.”

I awkwardly climb onto the seat, my hands hanging loosely by my side as he kicks up the footrest and straightens the bike, causing me to wobble dangerously.

“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing hold of his sides as my thighs grip tightly around his.

“You’re going to need to hold onto me,” he says, chucking a look over his shoulder as he reaches back and grips my thigh, urging me closer.

“I am,” I retort.

“Tighter, Daisy!” he orders, twisting the throttle briefly so that I’m thrown forward and have no option but to wrap my arms around his waist, and hang on for dear life, mywholebody pressed tightly against him.

“Jesus, give a girl a warning,” I mutter, my heart in my throat, all too aware of the heat between my thighs, and my entire body pressed against his.

---