Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [71]
“Yeah, I am. Very persistent.” He kept coming, in his stalker mode again. A predator on the prowl.
Jago caused her blood to buzz with a mix of anticipation and terror—terror she’d be hurt because there was no shielding her emotions from this fascinating man, this beautiful man who half-killed himself this morning teaching her the magic of ‘counting to fifteen.’ Crash and burn was the mantra of her Doubting Thomas side these days. Even so, there’d be no walking away from him.
“Come on. The rain has stopped. The sun’s peeking out. I want to ride my bike.”
“Oh, gor. I’ve never ridden one of these things before,” Asha said nervously. She accepted the black leather jacket Jago handed her. “Thanks, it’s beautiful. What did you do . . . mug his wife for it?”
“I bought the jackets and helmets, too. His old lady is expecting in February and wants all traces of the motorcycle gone. She was afraid that if the jackets were there, it would tempt him to buy another bike down the road. It’s a little big for you, but will do for now,” he said, adjusting the snaps at her waist.
Taking a helmet from the handlebars, he pushed it on her head. Being slightly claustrophobic, she instantly hated the thing. Still, she gritted her teeth and tried to grow accustomed to the necessity, knowing the protection was vital. Even so, some part of her couldn’t exorcize her mind’s eye of the foolish image of riding the Harley with her hair blowing in the wind.
Taking her hand, Jago led her to the bike. He instructed. “Remember, right is wrong. Get on the bike from the left side. Put your hands on my shoulders and then mount it.”
“Like climbing on a horse.”
“Yep.” He swung his leg over. “Just like it.”
“Or like a man wearing an earring,” she kidded.
Jago laughed softly. “You made me think of a friend—actually, my brother’s right-hand man. He wears an earring.”
“Oh? In his right ear?” She slid her leg over the leather seat and then lightly bit his left earlobe.
“No, his left. And if Julian came anywhere near you, I might have to beat him to a pulp.” She thought he growled, but he started the bike, warming the engine up, so she wasn’t sure.
That deep throttle thunder was unlike any sound she’d ever heard. There was a majestic power to the noise, akin to a lion’s roar in the jungle, proclaiming he was king. Jago smiled. “Feel the rumble between your legs. It’s riding thunder.”
Asha settled on the seat and put her feet where he told her. Then he pulled her arm about his waist, so that she was pressed flush against his back. She tried to control the riot of sensations thrumming through her body. The low-throated vibration of the bike, being plastered against a very hot male, proved there was something very sexual, very intimate about riding the Harley with Jago.
He set the bike to wheeling down the drive, scaring the horses in the pastures on either side. As he pulled onto the main road he slowed, but then he throttled the bike and it roared, flying off down the highway. Asha gave up trying to look at the scenery, just turned her head and laid it against Jago’s back. The landscape, buildings and trees all went by in a blur; she closed her eyes and relished the rushing sensation and the warmth of Jago’s body. The whole experience was peculiar, in that she gave over everything to him, accepted him to protect and care for her. Trusted him completely.
The ride was relaxing and yet deeply profound in ways that she had trouble expressing. She felt strange, glorious, alive. She quickly learned to lean when Jago did, working with him, them becoming a part, an extension of the bike. Riding the Harley with Jago was very much like having sex. No wonder men loved these machines!
The word caused her pause. Love. She was in love with this man. It was too damn soon. She knew so little about him. Still, that didn’t matter. She had opened her heart to him as she had never opened it before. That terrified her more than flying down the highway at 60 mph with the wind ripping at her.
Jago was right. They were riding the thunder.
Jago loved the feel of