Page 17 of Marked By the Obsessed Biker
I put a leg over my bike and sit down. “You want to ride with me?”
She nods. “Yeah, is that okay?”
I rub my chest right over my heart. “Yeah, yeah, that’s more than okay.”
She comes to stand next to me. I know she’s ridden probably her whole life, but she hesitates next to me. I tilt my head at her. “You okay?”
She nods and then crosses her arms over her chest. “How many women do you let ride on your bike?”
I smirk. “Are you jealous?”
She fists her hands at her sides. “What? No, I’m not jealous, but I also don’t want to be one of a thousand women.” She holds her hand up. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll ride with the girls.”
She gets about two steps before I reach her. I put my hands on her hips, pulling her so her backside is nestled against me. I lean down and whisper in her ear. “No one has been on the back of my bike since the first day I laid eyes on you.”
She turns in my arms, and I’m about to kiss her again when Lexi hollers out the passenger side window, “Kiss later. We got a party to get to.”
Neither Alice nor I look at her; we’re too busy staring at each other. Alice blinks up at me. “What does she mean, we have a party to get to?”
I bite my lip, hoping that I did the right thing. “Well, we’re doing a birthday redo.”
Her eyebrows lift in question. “A birthday redo? I didn’t think you were serious about that.”
I nod. “Yep. Is that okay?”
Her hands go to my waist. “Grey, last night didn’t break me. I’m okay.”
I laugh. “Honey, I know it didn’t break you. But I also know that you deserve to have a good memory for your birthday.”
Her hands slide up my chest and hook around my neck. “Did you plan this?”
I lean down. “Yeah. Emily and Lexi helped, but yeah, it was my idea.”
We’re standing here, staring into each other’s eyes, and I know I can’t do what I want to do in downtown Whiskey Run. “So what do you say? You going to ride on the back of my bike?”
She nods, and I pick her up. She gasps but doesn’t struggle. I set her on my bike, and once she’s seated, I get on in front of her. Instantly, her hips slide down, and she’s hugged up against my body. Her arms loop around my waist, and I tell her, “Tighter.”
She tightens her hold, and I start up my bike and take off back to the clubhouse. The whole way there, I have one hand on her leg.
There’s no way to talk, so I just enjoy the feel of her against my back. I don’t want the ride to end, but I know most of the club is waiting on us, so I head straight there.
I steady the bike and let her off first, and then I climb off. She’s waiting for me, and I can sense she feels awkward about it. Idon’t know if it’s the right time or not—maybe I should have a full conversation with Pres first, but I’m following my heart. I hold my hand out to her. She looks at it and then raises her eyes to mine. “Do you want me to hold your hand?”
My throat clogs up. “Yes.”
She still doesn’t hold her hand out, and my heart starts to race. She tilts her head to the side. “If we walk in holding hands, people are going to think we’re together.”
I chuckle. “Honey, they already know you’re mine.”
She seems surprised by that. “They do?”
Tired of waiting and impatiently wanting her touch, I reach for her hand and thread our fingers together. “Is that okay?”
Instead of answering, she asks me, “What about last night?”
I tug her by the hand so she’s standing closer to me and she has to lean her head back to look up at me. Our bodies are almost touching, and in this moment, I want to skip the party and take her up to my room, but her question stops me. “What about it?”
She puts her free hand at my waist. “I practically begged you to look at me. I wanted you, and you pulled away and spent half the night in a chair.”
