Page 4 of Egg Me On (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #1)
Mira stopped her Jeep before pulling past us, frowning until Aiden waved her on.
Once she was gone, he circled the bike twice, as if trying to figure out where he was supposed to sit.
Then he reached for the seat, gingerly placing a hand on a few inches away from my ass, then awkwardly tried to mount the bike without touching me at all.
It was like watching a baby giraffe attempt ballet.
One leg swung over, then he wobbled, hands hovering an inch from my shoulders as if touching me might electrocute him.
His laugh came out as a nervous hiccup. Finally, he managed to perch on the very edge of the passenger seat, his body rigid.
"Hold on," I told him.
"Where, um, do I...?"
I exhaled sharply. "Your choice"
He placed his hands lightly on my shoulders, fingers barely making contact. This was going to be a disaster.
"You good?"
"Yeah, I think—"
I twisted the throttle and the Harley lurched forward.
Aiden let out a startled yelp, his pretense of maintaining distance instantly forgotten as his entire body slammed against my back, arms wrapping around my waist in a death grip.
His chest pressed firmly against me, thighs suddenly bracketing mine.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" he gasped into my ear. "A little warning next time?"
I almost smiled. On the inside.
As we pulled away from the curb, I felt his body gradually begin to relax against my back.
His grip loosened slightly, but he stayed close, his warmth seeping through my leather jacket.
I tried not to notice how perfectly he fit against me, how naturally he began to follow my movements as we navigated the residential streets.
Most first-time passengers were terrible—they leaned the wrong way in turns or sat stiff as boards, fighting the bike's natural motion.
Not Aiden. After the initial shock, he instinctively seemed to understand the rhythm, or sense my motions, his body moving with mine as we leaned into a curve, shifting his weight just right.
I guided the Harley onto a main thoroughfare, increasing our speed. Aiden's arms tightened slightly around my waist, but there was no panic in it. When I glanced in my side mirror, I caught a glimpse of his face—eyes wide but bright with excitement, not fear.
"This is amazing!" he shouted, the wind carrying his voice. "Why doesn't everyone do this?"
Something warm and unwelcome unfurled in my chest. I pushed it down, focusing on the road ahead. The shop was only fifteen minutes away, in an industrial area West of I-25. Fifteen minutes of this stranger pressed against me, his hands tight against my jacket.
This was fine. This was nothing. Just helping Silas out.
I took a sharper turn than necessary at the next intersection, partly to test Aiden's unexpected aptitude for riding, partly to distract myself from my own bullshit thoughts.
He responded perfectly, leaning with me, a surprised laugh vibrating against my back.
His thighs tightened around mine as we straightened out, and I swallowed hard.
Fifteen minutes. I could manage fifteen minutes without losing my mind over some pretty boy with a food truck and an intuitive grasp of motorcycle physics. I'd dealt with worse. Probably.
I wasn’t even attracted to men.
"The light's changing!" Aiden called, pointing ahead unnecessarily.
I downshifted, slowing for the red light. When we came to a stop, Aiden didn't pull away as most passengers would. He stayed molded to my back, his chin nearly resting on my shoulder.
"This is seriously cool," he said, his voice close to my ear. "Thanks for picking me up, even if Silas made you do it.”
"Whatever." I stared straight ahead, refusing to turn and meet his eyes, which I could feel on the side of my face.
“I can’t believe I’m on a motorcycle. Who knew it’d be such a rush?"
The light turned green, and I accelerated perhaps a little too aggressively, cutting off his cheerful chatter. Aiden laughed again, the sound vibrating through both our bodies as he clung tighter.
“Am I sitting too close?” he asked.
"You're perfect.” Shit, that had come out awkwardly. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
"Yeah?" The pleased surprise in his voice was almost childlike, and I cut off any more questions with a loud rev of the engine as the light turned green.
We merged onto the highway for a brief stretch, and I opened up the throttle.
The Harley responded with a satisfying roar, eating up the asphalt beneath us.
Aiden whooped with delight, his body pressed impossibly closer now.
His hands had found their way to my abdomen, splayed wide against my stomach.
I focused on my breathing, on the road, on anything but the way his fingers seemed to burn through my t-shirt.
Should have worn my gear. My leather jacket with its protective pads would have been hot as hell in this weather, but it would have dulled this sensation.
The exit for the shop approached, and I took it smoothly, guiding us through the final few blocks. As we pulled into the FRMC parking lot, I felt a strange reluctance I hadn't anticipated. I cut the engine and lowered the kickstand, and Aiden's arms slowly unwound from around my waist.
"That was incredible," he said, climbing off the bike with noticeably more grace than when he'd gotten on. He removed the helmet, his hair adorably mussed, cheeks flushed with excitement. "Thanks again, Cash. I know Silas forced you, but I really appreciate it."
I grunted, avoiding his gaze as I secured my own helmet.
I watched him walk toward the entrance closest to the FRMC’s kitchen, messenger bag bouncing against his hip, that same energy in his step I'd noticed yesterday. Only when he disappeared inside did I allow myself to exhale fully, running a hand over my face.