Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“You have a leather jacket?” I ask.
“I do. It’s more dressy than functional.”
“That’s okay. Wear some thicker jeans and boots with a short heel if you’ve got them.”
“I think I have something that will work.”
If I follow her upstairs, there’s no way she’ll be getting dressed any time soon. While she’s figuring out what to wear, I find my way into the laundry room. My wallet’s still on the dryer and my dick’s getting hard remembering last night.
The washer’s still sideways. I squeeze behind it and check that we didn’t knock any hoses loose.
“Dex?” Emily calls.
That was quick.
“Back here.”
I stand and pull myself out of the tight space, then straighten the machine, lining it up with the dryer.
“Doing some laundry?” she asks from behind me.
“No, smart-ass. Just checking we didn’t break it last night.”
I turn and find her watching me with surprise and curiosity. She tied her hair into two short braids. A hint of a blush creeps over her cheeks. Is she remembering how the machine got moved in the first place? Good.
“Is this okay?” She holds out her arms for me to inspect her outfit.
Thick purple plaid flannel shirt with another shirt underneath, dark denim jeans, and a pair of black leather lug-soled boots with a short but chunky heel.
“It’s great.”
She follows me into the living room. While I’m putting on my boots, she slips into the closet and returns with a black leather jacket full of flashy gold-toned hardware. It’ll work, though.
“A bit dated and tacky, huh?” she says.
“Nah, it’s fine.”
“It was my aunt’s.” She slips her arms into the jacket. It’s a bit big but will serve its purpose. “I think she went through a biker chick phase in the early nineties.”
“Looks good on you. Grab the helmet.” I curl my hand around hers. “Let’s go.”
Outside, she stops and stares at my bike for a second.
“Would you rather take your car?” I ask.
“No.”
She quickly mounts the bike behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. “Where are we going?” she asks.
The few places I’m familiar with in Johnsonville either aren’t open at this hour or won’t be of interest to Emily. “Is Fletcher Park okay? Views should be nice today.”
“I haven’t been there in years.” She hugs me tighter. “Sounds perfect.”
Emily
Dex is right. Riding forces my mind to remain focused on the present. I bet if I was the one steering this monster machine it would be even more acute.
Speeding along the Thruway is exhilarating and terrifying in equal measures. The pavement rushes beneath our feet and I force myself not to think about what it would feel like to make contact with it at this speed. Dex handles the bike with expertise, reassuring me with each movement.
Dozens of scents fill my nose. Oil, gas fumes, the pungent stench of cow patties. It’s all so much more intense.
He takes an exit I’m not familiar with and winds the bike through back roads, gradually taking us up the mountains and into one of the back entrances to Fletcher Park. Some sections of the park are still closed this time of year. But the gates to the Overlook parking lot are wide open. Dex passes through and steers the bike to the upper-level lot, stopping at the far end, away from all the other vehicles.
My legs quiver as I gingerly extract myself from the seat. I unstrap the helmet and Dex takes it from me, hanging it off the handlebars.
“You all right?” he asks.
I must look as unsteady as a baby giraffe. Willing my legs to stop shaking, I stand straighter. “That was a long ride.”
“Aw, that was nothing.” He curls his hand around my thigh and drags me closer. “A mere warm-up ride.”
My gaze nervously bounces around the parking lot.
“Emily. No one’s paying attention to us,” Dex says in a low voice. “Eyes over here.”
How does he always manage to sound firm enough to make me do what he asks but still so gentle that I never have the urge to tell him to fuck off for being so bossy?
He lightly squeezes where he’s holding my leg. “Were you okay? You didn’t try to crack my ribs this time.”
“You make it seem safer than it probably is.”
“Riding has its risks.” He releases me and gracefully swings his leg over the bike. He leans in and kisses my cheek. “But lots of rewards too.”
Yeah, like the big, tall, sexy reward standing right in front of me.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
I smooth my hands over my hair, checking for strands that escaped their braided prison. “Can we walk along the wall and check out the view?”
“Absolutely.” He takes my hand, and we start down the gentle slope of the sidewalk that runs alongside the low stone wall designed to keep people from falling off the cliff.