I run my hand down her neck, past her collarbone, and brush my fingers over her smooth cleavage. I moan with need. God, we have to find somewhere more private, so I can touch her.
Feel her.
She breaks the kiss, breathing hard.
I sit with my hand suspended mid-air, pulsating painfully between my legs. Her face is flushed, and mine is too. The air around us crackles with sexual tension.
She breaks eye contact first, nudging her head toward the ramp. “Come on. We’re not leaving until you have a go at the ramp.”
I stare after her in surprise as she makes her way over to the boys. Ben pushes off, rolling down the ramp with skilled ease.
I throw my head back on a groan and grab my helmet. I put it back on, grumbling to myself. Dallas Garcia is going to be the death of me if the ramp doesn’t kill me first.