Page 8 of Untamed Crow

"Ever been on one of these before?"

I shake my head, running my fingers along the sleek chrome.

"I've asked Wrath to take me for a ride more than once, but he always says a bike isn't for a 'girl like me.'" I can't keep the annoyance from my voice. "Whatever that means."

"Wrath's always been overprotective of you. But he's wrong - some women were made for motorcycles."

The way he looks at me as he says it makes my cheeks flush. "You think I'm one of them?"

"Only one way to find out," he says, reaching for his helmet.

"Wait," I say, suddenly remembering my dress. "I'm not exactly dressed for this."

Crow's eyes travel down my body, lingering on where the navy silk falls just above my knees. The heat in his gaze makes my skintingle. I've seen that look before - usually when he thinks I'm not watching - but never this openly, never this intense.

"We can make it work," he says, his voice rougher than before. "Hike the dress up a bit, sit sideways if you need to."

I try to ignore how my pulse quickens at his words and the image they create. "Won't that be dangerous?"

"Not with me," he promises, already grabbing his Iron & Blood leather jacket. With the movement, his shirt pulls tight across his shoulders, and I glimpse his tattoos through the fabric. "Here."

He holds out the jacket, and I realize he means for me to wear it. The gesture is so unexpectedly gentlemanly that I find myself staring at him. This is the same man who just took down Mark without breaking a sweat, who carries a gun and rides with one of the most feared MCs in the state. Yet here he is, offering me his jacket like we're teenagers at a drive-in.

"Can't have you getting cold," he explains, helping me slip it on. The jacket is still warm from his body, and his scent surrounds me - leather, cologne, something musky and distinctly male that makes my head spin a little.

"Thank you," I murmur, rolling up the too-long sleeves. The fabric drowns me, but there's something oddly intimate about wearing his clothes.

He seems captivated by the sight, his eyes darker than I've ever seen them. The way he's looking at me - like he wants to devour me whole - makes heat pool low in my panties. After what feels like forever, he clears his throat and turns to the bike.

"Alright, lesson time," he says, all business now though his voice still holds that rough edge. "The first thing you need to know isthat this isn't like riding in a car. You're exposed to everything - wind, rain, road debris. That's why you stay close to me."

I nod, trying to focus on his instructions rather than how good he looks in just that shirt or how much I want to trace the tattoos I can see peeking out at his collar.

"When we're moving, you stay as close as you can get," he continues. "Lean when I lean - the bike will tell you what to do, just follow my body. Keep your arms around my waist, tight but not death-grip tight. If you need me to stop for any reason, tap my right side twice. Questions?"

I nod, trying to focus on his instructions rather than the prospect of being pressed against him for the entire ride.

"Good." He easily swings his leg over the bike, then holds out his hand to me. "Your chariot awaits, doll."

Taking a deep breath, I gather my dress and take his hand. The silk rustles as I adjust it, trying to maintain some modesty while still being able to sit properly.

"If I fall off, Wrath will kill you."

His laugh rumbles through the night air. "Trust me, Emma. I won't let anything happen to you."

And despite everything - the club war, the violence I witnessed tonight, all the warnings about bikers I've heard my whole life - I do trust him. Completely. Maybe I always have.

Chapter 4 - Crow

The moment Emma takes my hand, my body goes on high alert. She's wearing my jacket, about to climb on my bike, and looking at me with complete trust in those big brown eyes. It's almost too much.

"Okay," I manage, keeping my voice steady. "Left foot on the peg here." I guide her hand to my shoulder. "Use this for balance."

She follows my instructions, gathering her dress higher to swing her leg over. The sight of her bare thigh makes my mouth go dry, but I force myself to focus. This isn't about me or my desires - it's about keeping her safe.

"Good," I say when she's settled. "Now, scoot forward. No space between us when we're riding."

Emma hesitates for just a moment before sliding closer, her thighs pressing against the back of mine, her chest flush against my back. Even through our clothes, I can feel the heat of her body, the soft curves I've tried so hard not to think about.

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