SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One) by Olivia Chase Page A

what real freedom feels like.”

7
    Aubrey
    I t takes all of my strength to approach the motorcycle after Smith climbs on. He looks so ridiculously hot that I can barely believe it.
    Meanwhile, this helmet probably looks stupid on me in comparison. But I can hear my mom’s voice in the back of my head, telling me how many people die on motorcycles from being improperly protected. Because of her, I grew up petrified of them.
    So of course, Smith rides a motorcycle, because fate likes to push my buttons in every possible way.
    I’m looking like a doofus for you, Mom, I say to myself. Hopefully that will appease her. I’m sure that at home, she’s probably got some kind of Mom alert warning her that her baby girl is doing something dangerous.
    Smith takes a couple of minutes to coach me on how to be a safe backseat rider, to lean with him into curves, not squeeze him too hard, not move my feet off the foot props so I don’t get burned on the exhaust pipes. I nod and try to remember all of the details.
    Then I hike my leg up and slide onto the back of the bike behind him.
    And suck in a shaky breath when he tugs me closer so that he’s nestled right between my open thighs. The feel of his smooth back pressed against my breasts makes my nipples bead right up; since I’m wearing a thin, unlined bra, I can’t help but wonder if he can feel my reaction.
    Oh fuck, I hadn’t anticipated needing to be this…near him. With his hand stroking my outer thigh as he revs the engine, I feel myself sinking into a space with him I swore I wasn’t going to feel again. After waking up alone that morning, hurt and embarrassed that he didn’t bother to even say goodbye, I was determined to avoid Smith.
    Even though I thought about him all the time since then.
    But the hole I felt in my heart since waking up to find him gone has made me feel empty and sad and jaded in a way that is unexpected. I didn’t intend to start falling for this tattooed guy who runs a bar and seems like the type that doesn’t ever settle down.
    I hoped I’d learned my lesson after he ran out on me, hoped the hole in my heart would start to repair itself and I’d lose interest in Smith Beckett, as impossible as it seemed.
    And then he showed up at my door not asking for sex, but for a date. Seeming awkward and trying to talk me into it, even when I initially refuse him. Not like his usual self, the version of him that is so self-assured that he never has to work for a girl’s attention. The version I’ve seen of him at the bar, in bed.
    The fact that he put himself out there for me made my heart weaken. So despite me swearing him off a few days ago, here I am, on the back of his bike as he pulls out of my apartment complex and onto the road.
    I must be a fool to open myself up to yet more heartache. Will I never learn?
    When we pick up speed, I can feel the wind whipping at my bare skin on my arms. I try to be careful not to move my head too much so he can stay balanced, but I’m riveted by the sight of everything streaming by us fast, the world open, unlike in a car where we’re closed in metal and glass.
    Here, I’m not just riding. I’m almost a part of the road.
    Smith navigates turns expertly, and I lean with him into them. His body is firm between my legs, and my clit grows warm and begins to throb. I can’t help but be reminded of the last time he was there.
    Something about sitting on such a powerful piece of vibrating machinery with the sexiest man I’ve ever met is arousing me more than I ever realized would happen. God help me. I refuse to get off this bike and jump on his body the way I want to.
    After about ten minutes, we pull into a parking lot of a small diner. Despite its size, the lot is filled, with people lingering outside in a row along the building. When the motor cuts, I take off my helmet and get off the bike.
    Smith takes the helmet from me and locks it into place in a resting spot on the back of the bike. I can’t stop staring