Flame - Erin Noelle Page 0,35

because she releases the smallest of sighs. It’s almost unnoticeable. Almost.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he can fuck like a porn star,” I add with a carefree laugh, trying to gauge her reaction.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, Gunner appears on the other side of Emilia, plopping down on the metal bleachers next to her and planting a big sloppy kiss on her face. “How are the two most beautiful women in the world doing? Did you see me kick everyone’s ass, Dakota?” He grins over at me before turning his attention back to his wife. “Did you tell her I always win, baby?”

Emilia giggles uncontrollably as he tickles her, wrangling her into his lap, and as I attempt to tell Gunner which parts of his race were my favorite, my curiosity about Emilia and Levi fades away. Instead, I’m inundated with terms like ‘block pass’ and ‘whipping’ from the two of them, and I pretend to listen until Levi stops talking and looks up at us, tipping his chin in my direction.

You good, Sunshine?

I nod, flashing a wide smile. Just waiting to witness your awesomeness, Hulk.

Hold on to your panties, gorgeous girl. Grabbing his helmet, he pulls it on over his head and makes his way over to where the guy who drives the Suburban around—Jeremy, I think his name is—waits with his bike. Gunner stops talking when he sees Levi swing his leg over the seat, and the rest of the crowd does as well once they see him riding over to the ramp along with several others.

“All right, all right, all right. The time has come for what we’ve all been waiting for,” a loud voice booms through the speakers in the arena, and I swear I can physically feel the electricity whirring through the air, tingling against my exposed skin. “For tonight’s Big Air exhibition run, we’ve got some of the biggest names in the sport here to show you some of what they have in store for the upcoming X-Games, which begins in a little over a week in New Orleans. Included in our riders tonight are Pete “Rough Rider” Russo, James “Mr. 501” Levi, and the reigning world champion, Lance “Armstrong” Foss. Let’s give them all a big, Albuquerque welcome!”

The packed crowd erupts, a deafening mixture of screams, cheers, and bullhorns, as the riders get ready to perform. My eyes are locked on Levi, suddenly having wished I would’ve learned a little more about what he’s about to do, but nonetheless ready to see him in action. I had no idea how incredibly fucking sexy he’d look in his riding gear, and even more, I can’t wait to help him out of it later.

On his first takeoff, I suck a deep breath into my lungs, holding it as he shoots off the dirt ramp and into the air, his bike doing a full front flip while he separates himself from the machine, falling back to touch the seat then repositioning himself correctly before the landing. With a whoosh, I exhale, my shoulders slumping forward and a wave a relief washing over me.

“Holy shitballs!” I exclaim. That was fucking intense, and I’m only watching from the crowd. I can’t imagine the extreme jolt of adrenaline that surges through him each time he defies gravity and flies through the air like that, but I also think about the trauma and strain his poor body must go through on a regular basis. Now, I understand why he said he could use my massaging fingers on tour with him, and I make a mental note to take extra good care of him tonight when we’re in bed.

Emilia grabs my hand and squeezes hard. “You’ll get used to it. It took me a while too, but eventually, it just becomes who they are. No need to worry.”

Smiling over at her, I shake my head, because she’s obviously misunderstood. “Nah, I’m not scared or worried. I wanna learn how to ride.”

And maybe then, he can massage me down afterward.

THURSDAY, JUNE 21

“SERIOUSLY, HULK, YOU’VE GOTTA WORK on your bed etiquette,” Dakota announces at breakfast Thursday morning. Her brows are raised high into her forehead as she pins me to my chair with her best serious face from across the bus’ dinette table.

My hand, en route from the bowl of cereal to my mouth, stops midair with her out-of-left-field comment. “Work on my what?” I scoff. No female has ever complained about my ‘bed’ anything.

Unable to hide the amusement in her sapphire gaze,