Page 44 of Writing Mr. Wrong

He grabbed her around the hips, making her give an adorably girlish shriek. “Helping you up. It’s a big bike. Also, you seem a little gun shy.”

“I am not—Put me down, Moretti.”

She squirmed and laughed. A delicious bubbly laugh that made him want to keep carrying her for as long as he could get away with it.

“Shit,” she said when he hoisted her onto the bike. “You aren’t kidding. This is way bigger than I’m used to.”

He couldn’t suppress a snorted laugh.

Her cheeks reddened, and she wagged a finger at him.

He lifted his hands. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just meant it’s a big bike.”

“I’m a big guy. Everything’s gotta be proportional.”

Her cheeks flamed now, but she smiled, too.

“I’m just saying that I’m accustomed to a much smaller…” She threw back her head. “Damn it. There is no way to make this any better, is there? Fine. I give up.” She looked him in the eye. “I’m accustomed to riding something much smaller.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not about the size, Moretti. It’s about maneuverability. And in the case of a motorcycle, sizeismaneuverability.” She waved her boots. “My feet are nowhere near the ground. That isn’t safe.”

“I have an idea. First, though, let me get a photo.”

He shifted so he could get a shot while she was on the bike. When he showed it to her, she rolled her eyes.

“I look like a little kid trying out a big kid’s bike. Do not send that one.” She chewed her lip. “I’d like something where I look… I don’t know.”

“More like you know what you’re doing?”

She exhaled, as if relieved he got it. “Yes.”

He pocketed the phone. “We’ll circle back to that. For the lesson, what if I get on behind you?”

“Uh…”

He put his leg up and eased on, and he really just meant to test the fit, but then he slid firmly up against her as she bent forward to reach the handlebars.

He looked down to see his crotch pressed up against Gemma’s ass. His cock had already started stirring from that conversation, and now it just kept rising as it found itself in a very comfortable spot indeed.

Oh yeah. He was really glad he stopped for this lesson.

“How’s this?” he said.

“Better, I think?”

She wriggled backward, and he tensed, but if she felt anything, she must have mistaken it for his jacket and kept adjusting, her ass wriggling against his crotch.

“It feels safer knowing one of us can touch the ground,” she said, “but the extra weight might make me more unsteady.” She turned to look at him. “I’m just really worried about laying it down, Mace.”

She’d called him Mace again. He smiled.

“Mason?”

He put his hands on her hips. Respectfully on her hips.

---