Page 21 of Riggs
When we step up to where we are parked, Kiwi and Fender are sitting on their bikes, smoking a cigarette. The two of them, along with Riggs exchange a few words as I grab my helmet from its place on the back of his bike. Riggs looks at me. "We're going to ride a few more hours then find a place to crash for the night."
"Okay," I tell him.
Straddling his bike Riggs looks at me expectantly. When I step up to him, I glance back over my shoulder at Kiwi and Fender then back at Riggs. "Should I ride with one of the other guys? Give you a break?" I ask.
Riggs' face grows hard. "No." This time he doesn't sign. He doesn't need to. I understood him perfectly. I swallow past the lump in my throat as I place a shaky hand on his shoulder and climb on his bike behind him. If I had known my question was going to make him mad, I wouldn't have asked. I just figured he could use a break from my clutches.
Back on the road, I last all of thirty minutes of trying to keep some distance between myself and Riggs and not mold myself to his back as I did for the first half of our ride. But I soon lose the fight and close the gap between us wrapping my arms fully around his waist. For whatever reason, I can't help the strange pull I have toward this man. It's like my body seeks his warmth. Releasing a deep breath, I rest my cheek on his leather covered back, breathing in his intoxicating scent, close my eyes, and enjoy the wind on my face. I smile into Riggs' cut when he reaches back and runs his big hand up my leg.
Darkness has fallen well over an hour ago, and the warm sun has turned into a chilly breeze. I have on jeans, but the short sleeve t-shirt is not keeping me warm, and I start to shiver. It takes Riggs all of two seconds to sense my distress, and he makes some sort of hand signal to Kiwi and Fender before pulling off to the side of the road. Cutting the engine to his bike, he slides off. I watch as he tugs his cut off and hangs it on the handlebar where he proceeds to pull off the hunter green long sleeve thermal he's wearing, leaving himself in just a black t-shirt. "Arms up baby," he instructs.
Lifting my shaky hands as I shiver, I ask, "what about you?"
"I'll be fine. Now arms up."
Deciding not to argue, I allow Riggs to slide his shirt on over my head, then thread my arms through. With his heat still engulfed in the shirt, it feels like heaven against my cold skin. Without thinking, I bring the front of the thermal to my nose and inhale his scent. When I open my eyes Riggs' nostrils flare, and his eyes have turned molten. I'm embarrassed I have been caught sniffing his shirt.
Jerking his cut from the handlebar, Riggs turns back toward me and runs his hand through his beard, looking frustrated. I suddenly feel self-conscious again, thinking I have somehow irritated him. Not knowing what to do, I start fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt I have on as I try to avoid eye contact. I look up through my lashes to catch Riggs taking a step closer toward me. He braces one hand on the fuel tank and the other on the seat next to my butt as he looms over me, invading every inch of my personal space. With his face a mere inch away from mine, I have no trouble reading his lips. "Soon Mon Tresor, this is going to happen," he declares and my breath hitches. My eyes travel from his mouth up to his blue eyes and back down to his mouth. Thinking about what kissing him would be like, I suppress the urge by biting down on my bottom lip. Standing to his full height, Riggs gives me a look I can't quite decipher before climbing on his bike.
An hour later we pull into the parking lot of a hotel. Riggs says something to Fender, and he promptly makes his way inside. He returns a few minutes later with two key cards. He keeps one then passes one over to Riggs. Both Fender and Kiwi retrieve their bags from the back of their bikes as Riggs goes about doing the same, passing me mine. He then grabs my hand in his and leads us up a set of stairs. I glance over my shoulder to see Kiwi and Fender head for a room on the lower level of the hotel. Suddenly it dawns on me that Fender only had two key cards. I didn't think about what our sleeping arrangements would be while traveling. Coming to a dead stop, I pull away from Riggs. He turns to look at me, and I ask. "Don't I get my own room?"
Riggs gives me a bored look and says his favorite word. "No." Leaving no room for argument, I have no choice but to follow him as he once again takes my hand and leads us to our room. Once inside he tells me I can take a shower first and no way in hell am I going to argue that. After being on the road all day I feel grimy. Carrying my bag with me, I head straight for the bathroom. Stepping inside, I lock the door behind me. Setting my bag on the counter next to the sink, I pull out my sleep shorts and top. Since I was only able to bring my essentials with me on the road, I had to leave my hair products behind. Luckily the hotel supplies those tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner. They will do in a pinch. Finished with a much-needed shower, I dress in my pajamas and brush my hair, deciding to leave it down for the night.
The smell of Chinese food assaults my nose the moment I open the bathroom door; or at least I hope that's what it is. When I step out of the bathroom, Riggs has his back turned to me as he lays food containers out on the table in front of the hotel room window. Sensing my presence behind him, he turns. With hooded eyes, he doesn't hide the way he appraises me from head to toe. The way he is looking at me causes my tummy to flutter, and I'm suddenly nervous about us sharing a room. A room with only one bed. One king size bed. Finished with his inspection, he tells me, "I had Kiwi go out and get us some dinner."
Too hungry to think about our sleeping arrangements at the moment, I join Riggs at the table where we eat together comfortably without conversation. With my belly full my eyelids grow heavy as my food coma starts getting the better of me. Standing from the table, I amble over to the bed and grab one of the extra blankets folded at the foot, then make my way over to the chair in the corner of the room. The chair doesn't look comfortable, but no way am I sharing a bed with Riggs. Plopping down, I pull my legs up to my chest and snuggle into the blanket. No sooner do my eyes close when I am abruptly lifted into a pair of strong arms. The action causes me to startle, and I have no choice but to wrap my arms around Riggs' neck. Gently he lays me down on the bed. "I'm going to jump in the shower. Your ass better be in this bed when I get back." With that, he turns and stalks into the bathroom, shutting the door, not allowing me to say anything in protest.
What the hell?
Crossing my arms over my chest, I sit in the spot he planted me. That man is so irritating. By the time Riggs comes out of the bathroom bare-chested and in nothing but a pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips, I'm still fuming. By the look on his face, I'd say he thinks the situation is amusing. "I like it when you pout, baby."
"I am not pouting," I tell him.
I'm totally pouting.
Riggs shakes his head. I roll my eyes and decide this whole exchange is not worth me losing sleep. I'm exhausted. Lifting my chin, I scoot as close to the edge of the bed as possible, yank back the blanket and turn my back to him as he makes his way to the opposite side. I try not to be too obvious as I take in his lean form, six-pack abs and the trail of hair that starts at his chest and disappears into the waistband of his sweats. I also take in the colorful array of tattoos that cover his whole right arm and shoulder as he makes his way over to the bed. When my eyes work their way up from his chest to his face, he gives me a knowing wink.
Busted.
Snatching one of four pillows on the bed, I place it strategically in the middle. I then pull the blanket up to my shoulders and sigh. A second later the lights are cut off, and I feel a dip in the bed as Riggs climbs in. A breeze washes over my backside as Riggs lifts the blanket, snatches the pillow from between us and tosses it to the floor. Next, a strong arm wraps around my middle, pulling me back against a firm chest. Riggs then pins me down when he places one of his legs over the top of mine. My body goes stiff as I'm momentarily caught off guard. My breath gets lodged in my throat as I try to make heads or tails of my predicament. The last thing I need is to catch feelings or become some easy lay. I don't know what kind of game this man is playing, but I'm not having any of it. Soon enough, I come to my senses and go to remove myself from his hold; only my efforts cause his grip on me to tighten. Realizing he has no plans of letting me go, I give up the fight. When Riggs feels my body lose some of its tension, he slips his palm underneath my shirt and starts to rub feather-light circles on the spot just below my navel; the sensation causes my body to relax fully, and my eyelids grow heavy once again. Before sleep takes me, I feel a pair of warm lips kiss the back of my neck.
* * *
Openingmy eyes the next morning, I find my face buried in someone's neck. That someone being Riggs. But that's not what's mortifying.
Nope.
What has me wishing a hole would open and swallow me whole is the fact that we are lying chest to chest, my face buried in his neck and my hand is literally in his sweatpants.
On. His. Ass.
Oh my God! I fondled Riggs in his sleep. Maybe I can slip my hand out without waking him. He would never know.
Unfortunately, that is not what happens. After I gingerly remove my hand from his ass and carefully separate my body from his, I go to roll out of the bed when a pair of bright blue eyes and a set of straight white teeth greet me. "You get enough of grabbing my ass, babe?" Riggs teases.
"I wasn't grabbing your ass."
"Yeah, you were. Had your hand down my pants all night."
I lift my hand to sign my reply only I have no response. My lack of words causes him to smile even brighter. "Shut up," I tell him as I climb out of bed and stomp to the bathroom.
I took more time than necessary in the bathroom to avoid Riggs and the whole hand in his pants fiasco. Thankfully once I appeared, he hadn't said any more about it. Now here we are, on the road again with me on the back of his bike. We are on day two of our trek to New Orleans, and we have at least another day before we get there. Riggs said we'll find another hotel tonight. If we leave early enough tomorrow, we should roll up to the clubhouse by nightfall.
