Page 43 of Wedlocked

Ethan stepped into his bedroom, his eyes taking their fill of me. I flushed, his admiration the perfect distraction. “You like me in leather?” I asked.

“I more than like you in leather.”

I didn’t know where to look, what to do. I settled on grabbing a hair ribbon and tying my hair back into a ponytail as I looked into a wall mirror that conveniently faced the bed, my platinum hair a lovely contrast to the black leather jacket.

Ethan disappeared for a moment into his walk-in closet then returned with his own motorcycle gear, making me even more distracted when he drew off his clothes, his cock half-erect above his powerful, inked thighs. Suddenly I wanted to touch the swirling tatts, lick and trace them before taking the potent length of his shaft in my mouth.

I shook my head, despising my lack of self-control when it came to my husband—my enemy. Then he drew on his leather pants, his abs rippling with corded strength, his wide shoulders and chest flexing and shifting. Add in his lean hips and he reminded of a powerful rocker whose fans would have been left screaming and swooning.

It was only once he was dressed, had grabbed his helmet and taken my hand, that he said, “I got you, okay?”

I nodded, getting used to his reassuring phrase. “I know you do.”

So why was my heart in my throat the moment I picked up my helmet and walked with my husband toward the elevator, where it swept us to the underground carpark?

I didn’t expect the doors to open directly into Ethan and his brother’s private garage with their collection of motorcycles, sports cars, town sedans and SUVs.

I didn’t know why I was surprised. I was the first one to know criminal enterprises tended to be lucrative. My own family was proof of that. Still, I doubted even my father knew just how rich his rivals were.

My head was filled with so many random thoughts, which had started the moment my husband had stripped, that my fears had subsided into a low simmer at the back of my mind. Those same thoughts stopped completely when he directed me toward a crimson and maroon fat boy chopper, a touring pillion seat attached behind.

He helped me put my helmet on, then secured its throat latch, his hands lingering there before he pulled on his own helmet. Climbing onto the bike, he started it with a roar that soon became a throbbing grumble.

Hesitating for just a second, I took a step forward then climbed behind him on the bike. He twisted on the seat to look at me. “Are you ready?”

Yes. No. I managed a stiff nod, and he turned back even as I snaked my arms around his waist and pressed the side of my face to his back. I swallowed hard. If he was pure, latent power, then I was flawed, exposed vulnerability.

Good thing I wore a helmet to conceal my emotions.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ethan

It was a strange feeling having a care factor for someone other than my sister and brothers. That Sabrina was my wife shouldn’t have meant a thing—she was, after all, expendable.

She why was it that the longer we were together, the stronger my impulse to keep her? I white-knuckled the handgrips. She really was making me weak, and that was unacceptable.

I weaved in and out of the traffic, ignoring the beeps and shouts from frazzled and impatient drivers. Sabrina must be freaking out, and yet her tense body was slowly loosening and automatically flowing with the bike, her natural ability returning despite her fear.

A piece of me admired her spirit, her courage, her ability to worm her way into my damn heart and stay there.

I rode across the Brooklyn Bridge, the roar of the motorbike echoing as I increased speed and maneuvered in and out of the buses and cars, the famous yellow cabs.

A short while later I pulled the bike into Liberty State Park, the sun shining down from a cloudless blue sky. Lavender and tulip plantings were a colorful display to an otherwise green expanse of lawn where picnickers took advantage of the fine weather.

It wasn’t until we dismounted and she followed my lead and took off her helmet, that I realized she was damn well glowing.

She grinned up at me, her eyes shining like stars. “Thank you.”

My heart wrenched, my breath catching as I acknowledged my feelings for her were growing too fast and too strong. “For what?” I growled.

“For making me face and conquer my fears.”

I sucked in a pained breath and gave her a close-lipped smile. This wasn’t how I wanted to feel…like I was crumbling inside. She was tearing me apart, scrambling my wants and needs, and making me question everything: my past, my present and my future.

More specifically, her future.

And ours.

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