Page 22 of Thornhill Road

But it was a perfect summer night.

I’d have been a liar if I said I didn’t want to experience the power of his hog and the wind in my hair with me at his back—and I really didn’t like to lie.

I ran out of oxygen.

I blew out my breath, inhaled another, and shifted so I could see into those hazel-blue eyes.

Then I nodded, waving a white flag of surrender.

In that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to go for a ride.

The next thing I knew, he had hold of my hand, and I was sliding off my barstool. As he pulled me toward the door, I managed to glance back at Winnie.

She grinned and winked at me, then I lost sight of her altogether.

As soon as were outside, I had to move my feet double time to keep up with Mustang’s long stride in my heels. His bike was parked near the end of the row closest to the building. When we reached it, excitement rippled through me knowing I was about to be on it.

“Purse?” he asked as he dropped my hand.

I gave it to him, and he flipped open the lid of his saddlebag and stowed it away. Once the top was latched closed, he mounted his ride, and it was just as hot then as it had been the last time I saw it.

After he was settled, he pointed at a foot peg and told me, “Use that to help you climb on.” He then extended his hand to further assist me.

I hesitated for a moment. The bike was beautiful and slightly intimidating once faced with the prospect of straddling it in my Jimmy Choos; but I was going for a ride, and nothing was going to stop me.

I took his hand, held on tight, and found my way onto the seat behind Mustang. It might not have been entirely graceful, but with a Harley Davidson between my legs, I couldn’t spare a thought to worry about it.

He pressed a few buttons, the engine roared to life, and I didn’t fight my shiver.

Before we took off, he reached down, grabbed me behind my knees, and yanked me forward. My breath caught as I practically slammed into his back, every part of me now in contact with a part of him.

Leather. Fresh air. Pine.

He smelled divine.

“Hold onto me, Tess,” he demanded.

I didn’t have to be told twice.

My arms locked around his waist, and we were gone.

We rode casually off the compound’s lot, Mustang pointing us I didn’t know where. It wasn’t long before I realized we were headed for I-90. He merged onto the highway, and weflew.

I was scared for all of thirty seconds—then I reminded myself Mustang and his bike were one. He was in control, and I was safe, no matter how fast we went.

When I began to relax and enjoy the ride, I tasted freedom like I’d never had it before. I emptied my mind completely, and it wasbliss.

There was, however, one thing I couldn’t ignore.

The vibration of the Harley coupled with the feel of Mustang between my legs turned me on.

There was no fighting it.

The wind was cool against my skin as it whipped through my hair, but Mustang was warm, keeping me that way, too. He steered us through the heart of Gillette and beyond, until there was nothing to see on either side of the road but the darkness of night. I pressed my cheek to the back of his shoulder as I closed my eyes, and I swear he rode even faster.

I didn’t know if we were chasing a feeling or running from one—but I never wanted to stop.

We rode for a while. How long, I couldn’t say. He eased us off the interstate at a rest stop, then turned us around, taking us back from where we came, and we rode a while longer.

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