Losing Me, Finding You(49)

What on earth have I gotten myself into?



Chapter 37

Austin and I take a walk through the town. St. Marlin's, I think it's called. It's small, even smaller than my hometown, but it has a lot of charm and the people seem more open-minded than the folks I grew up with. Austin asks around a bit and manages to glean enough information from the locals that we're able to follow their directions and locate a flat, empty bit of country road to practice on.

Austin parks the bike and makes us both climb off before he starts to teach. As soon as he switches into that mode, his face gets real serious.

“First things first,” he says, pointing at my outfit. I've got on the helmet again, my leather jacket, jeans, boots, and even a pair of leather gloves. “You might fall at first, so you want to be prepared. Until you're a seasoned expert, I want you wearing all the gear. Got it?” I nod my head and push my visor up, so I can see his face better. “Now, step up to your ride on the left side and spread those sweet thighs over your metal, baby.” I smile at Austin and follow his instructions. It's actually quite a bit harder than it looks – presumably since I'm so short and the motorcycle is so big. I doubt that Austin would have this much trouble, even if he was as much a newbie as me.

I manage to swing my leg over with absolutely zero grace and end up thumping onto the leather seat with a grunt. Austin grins and steps up beside me, putting one hand on my thigh and using the other to point out key parts. Mirrors, foot peg, turn signal, horn, lights.

“Every bike is different, sugar, so make sure you check it out before you ride.” Austin pauses and climbs up behind me, leaning over me and doing his best to distract me by breathing hot and heavy against my neck. “Throttle is here. Brakes. Clutch. Shift pedal.” He pauses again. “Am I moving too fast?” I shake my head and try not to apply a sexual reference to that statement; it's nearly impossible.

“No, just right,” I whisper and I'm happy to hear Austin clearing his throat behind me. It's nice to know I'm not the only who feels this … this thing between us.

He moves on quickly, like if he stays quiet for too long, the feelings might overwhelm us both. I close my eyes for a brief moment and let his voice sink into me, hot and sultry and Southern. Combine that with the quiet stretch of road, the rolling fields, and the drone of cicadas, and I'm halfway to Heaven. Perfect. My family, that stupid video, my life as a biker – none of that even crosses my mind while I'm out here, basking in the golden glow of the sun, sweat soaking down my back where it's pressed against Austin's taut belly.

“Your right hand is responsible for two crucial functions,” he says and then stops, leaving a pregnant pause where I'm sure we're both inserting the dirtiest, nastiest things we can think of. Austin clears his throat again. “Acceleration and braking.”

“Acceleration and braking,” I repeat, just so he knows that I'm listening.

Austin's hands wrap around my waist and slide under the fabric of my shirt so that they're brushing against my bare skin. Immediately, my whole body goes up in flames and my pulse gets so loud that I can hardly hear what he's saying next.

“Make sure you grip it nice and firm, wrap those fingers around it and hold on tight.” I lick my suddenly dry lips and nod, caressing the handle bar nice and hard. “If you twist it towards you, you apply the throttle and gas the engine.” I nod and practice the motion, tilting my wrist down and pretending that I can hear the purr of the engine and feel the rumble between my thighs. “And, uh … ” I feel Austin shaking his head behind me, like he's trying to clear it. I don't blame him. This insatiable lust we have for one another is getting to be quite tiresome. I wonder how many times we're going to have to sleep together to sate it? Or if it will ever be sated. “The lever over here controls the front brakes. You want to keep your motion nice and smooth when you pull it or else you'll end up crashing the whole damn bike.”

“Nice and smooth,” I whisper, and I jump when Austin growls in my ear.

“Amy Cross, you knock that shit off.”

“Knock what off?” I ask him, glancing over my shoulder. Austin's got sweat rolling down his forehead and nose, and the skin on his muscular arms looks slick and wet. His tattoos gleam bright in the sunshine, highlighting the skulls and the pistols and the demon wings he's got on his shoulders.

“Being so damn sexy,” he snarls, leaning down and grazing his teeth against my ear. My whole body shudders, and I can't stop it. “If you don't stop, we might have to move onto those other lessons you asked about.”

“That would be okay with me,” I say, suddenly desperate to have him inside of me again. This time, with nothing between us. Austin laughs and grabs me around the waist, hoisting me up and lifting me off of the bike like I'm weightless. I like the feeling.

“Take off your pants,” he says simply and that's it. I turn around and stare at him, noticing that his eyes are like fire, waiting to wash over me and burn me to ash.

“What?” Austin grins and pulls out a cigarette, sticking it between his lips and taking off his vest. He tosses it onto the gravel by the side of the road like we're not out in the middle of the country, like we're right back in that hotel room together with all the privacy in the world.

“Take 'em off. This is your next lesson. If you don't wear a skirt, be prepared to take off your pants. Come on, sugar, let's get to it. We've gotta hurry before somebody drives by and sees us.”