Shoving aside thoughts of what my mother would say, I quickly got on behind Ryker, letting out a squeak when he reached back and pulled me tighter against him. At least the strap of my purse was long enough to hook over my chest so it rested against my back.
Grabbing his leather-clad shoulders, I steadied myself. I would’ve been showing the entire street the fabulous black satin and lace panties I wore if they weren’t currently pressed against Ryker as I straddled the bike. His hand drifted down my thigh to hook around the back of my knee, his calloused palm warm against my skin. I gasped at the sensation, a flash of heat and want racing through me.
“You have to hold on like this,” Ryker explained, turning his head to talk to me. He let go of my leg to reach up, moving my hands from his shoulders to circle his chest beneath his arms. “And hold on tight.”
I was shaking now, fear—and, yes, a tinge of excitement—making adrenaline rush fast through my veins.
“Scared?” Ryker asked.
“Do I have reason to be?” I asked rather than admit to my fear.
I could feel him laugh, though I couldn’t hear it over the noise.
“Trust me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” The motor revved and I tightened my grip around him.
Glancing at the sidewalk and people passing by, I suddenly saw Parker standing just outside the building entrance. He had an unreadable expression on his face, which wasn’t unusual, but he was staring right at Ryker and me. There was something about the set of his jaw and tension in his body that made me uneasy.
Then the bike was moving and I lost sight of Parker as we shot down the street.
Chapter Two
Riding on the back of a motorcycle was more exhilarating than I could have imagined. I tucked my head against Ryker’s back to shield myself from the wind. The smell of his leather jacket hit me and I took a deep whiff. My arms were locked tight around his chest, which gave me the added bonus of a hands-on (ha-ha) assessment of just how muscled he was. And boy, was he ever.
Eventually the motorcycle slowed, the engine rumbled, and I felt Ryker’s legs go down to steady the bike as we stopped and he turned off the engine. My body still seemed to be vibrating from the ride and I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face.
Turning over his shoulder to look at me, he said, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
The last thing Ryker needed was his ego fed, so I raised an eyebrow. “It could’ve been worse.”
He laughed lightly, then held my arm to steady me as I climbed off the back of the bike with as much grace as possible. Way too much thigh, and probably more that I didn’t want to think about, showed before I yanked down my skirt. I unfastened the helmet and handed it back to him.
My hair hadn’t fared so well scrunched inside the helmet, and I could feel that the braid and bun I’d fashioned this morning was now lopsided and falling out. Not really the look I was going for.
While Ryker took off his helmet and situated the bike, I hurriedly unpinned my hair and ran my fingers through it. The braid had given my usually straight hair a bit of a wave, which was nice. By the time Ryker turned around, I was standing there, hands clasped in front of me, waiting.
He stopped. Reaching up, he slowly slid his sunglasses down. Then he just stared at me, a slight look of surprise on his face.
After a moment, I grew very uncomfortable. Was there something on my face? Had another button on my blouse come undone and now I was dancing on the line between sexy and slutty? I patted my skirt as I shifted nervously underneath his scrutiny.
“What?” I finally asked.
Ryker shook his head, hooking his sunglasses on his shirt. “How the hell Parker got a bombshell like you to work for him, I’ll never know.”
I was torn on how to react to that. On one hand, I’d never been called a “bombshell” before and I inwardly preened at the compliment. On the other hand, it still seemed he was insulting Parker, which was not okay with me.
“Listen,” I said, “I get that you and Parker don’t like each other or something, but he’s my boss and, well, you know, if you can’t say