Sinful Protector

by Mia Ford

  Admittedly, that doesn’t mean I need to get on it. But if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it properly. My stubborn streak has won out here.

  Keeping in mind that I’ll be riding a motorbike, I dressed in jeans and a nice jacket. When he pulls up beside me, I unclench my hands as he flips up his visor.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

  “I’m sure,” I say with a nod. “Do you have a helmet?”

  He nods and hands me a helmet that he had clipped to the back. He helps me put it on; it’s heavy and clunky, and just a little too big for me, but Kyle tightens it so that it won’t fall off. Then he drags a leather jacket out and throws it at me.

  “Added protection,” he explains when I look at him surprised. “It’ll be too big because it’s one of my old jackets, but it should help with the wind, too.”

  “Thanks,” I say, touched.

  I shrug the jacket on. It’s plain black, and it’s well worn. It’s also miles too big for me, but I roll the sleeves up and zip the front up.

  Then I face the motorbike. Up close, it’s huge. It’s gleaming and black, and I can see Kyle takes very good care of it.

  “Want some help?” Kyle asks, offering me a hand. “Just grab my arm and swing your leg over.”

  I do as he says. It’s like mounting a bicycle, something I haven’t done in many years. The seat is wide and my legs settle on either side of it.

  “Scoot up and wrap your arms around my waist,” Kyle says, turning back to face the front. My stomach clenches as I realize that I’m really about to do this. “And make sure your visor is down. You don’t want anything to get in your eyes. I’ll take it slow, alright? You’re safe with me, I promise.”

  I lift a shaky hand and flip the visor down, then wrap my arms tightly around Kyle’s waist.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I say.

  “We’re not going far,” he promises.

  Then he starts the engine. It roars to life beneath me, making me jump, and the entire machine trembles. My breath catches, and I suddenly don’t want to do this anymore.

  But it’s too late. Kyle kicks off the curb, and suddenly we’re riding down the street. My arms tighten so hard around Kyle that I’m probably leaving bruises, but he doesn’t say anything at all. I close my eyes tightly, trying to gulp in deep breaths.

  I’m panicking. It’s hard not to remember, suddenly, the phone call that told us my father had been in an accident, and the rush to hospital only to find out that he was already dead. For so many years I had blamed the motorcycle for the accident; if my father had only been in a car, not on one of these death traps, he might still be alive.

  Slowly, though, the tight feeling in my chest begins to fade. I can feel Kyle breathing, I’m pressed so close to him, and I concentrate on the movement of his body instead. The memories fade and I blink my eyes open.

  “How are you doing?” Kyle calls to me.

  “O-okay!” I yell back over the wind.

  And, surprisingly, it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I draw in a deep, shaky breath. It really is just like riding a bike…just one that is large, powerful, fast and loud. Trembling slightly, I sit up.

  The wind catches my hair and the world is whizzing past. We’re not going very fast and I can see each face that we pass and read all the signs on the side of the road. Kyle is riding carefully, slowing down as he goes around the corners and turning his head constantly to look for hazards. He’s being careful.

  That, more than anything, reassures me. Kyle isn’t going to let me down. He promised I was safe with him, and I believe him.

  By the time we pull up in front of a brightly lit restaurant, I feel I can breathe easier. It wasn’t the most fun thing in the world to do…but I can see why Kyle likes it. There was something freeing about having the wind in my hair and no car walls enclosing me.

  I’m the first off the bike, and I almost stumble when I hit the ground, my legs shaky. Kyle puts a bracing hand on my elbow.

  “Careful,” he says, pulling his helmet off. “You alright?”

  “Yeah,” I say with a smile.

  I pull my own helmet off, grimacing as my hair sticks to my face. So much for brushing it nicely. I try and bat it down, wishing I had thought to put a brush in my bag. Then I slip the large jacket off.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “I phoned around and made a booking at this Italian restaurant,” Kyle says with a small smile. “Is that okay?”

  “That’s perfect,” I say.

  Kyle hesitates, and then he slips his own jacket off, revealing another coat, this one blue, underneath.

  “Most places don’t like me walking in with my club’s symbol on my jacket,” he explains, folding it up tightly and placing it in a compartment under the seat. “Give me a second to lock up.”

  I remember Jacqui accusing me of discriminating against Kyle because of the sort of club that he was part of, and I wince. Does Kyle face that all the time?

  “Ready?” Kyle asks, smiling at me.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” I say.

  He reaches out and takes my hand. His palm is warm and I smile as I curl my fingers around his, giving them a gentle squeeze. This is nice.

  When Kyle asks about the reservation, we’re directed to a small table near the window. Before we even have a chance to ask, the waiter takes our drink order and leaves us with menus. Kyle laughs.

  “Efficient,” he comments. “Have you been here before?”

  “Last year, Jacqui had a dinner here for her birthday,” I say. “It’s a nice place.”

  “It looks it,” Kyle agrees. He opens his menu casually. “So, what’s with you and motorbikes?”

  I’m honestly surprised that it’s taken him so long to ask.

  “My dad was in an accident a long time ago,” I tell him. “He had a motorbike, and he was part of a club, too. I was young when he died, and I’ve always associated motorbikes with his death.”

  Kyle nods solemnly. “I get that. But, you know, you don’t have to push yourself. I would have been okay with taking the bus.”

  I smile at him. “I know. What about you? How long have you been around motorbikes?”

  “Almost all my life,” he chuckles. “My dad rode them, though I was never allowed to until I was teenager. I always wanted him to teach me.” His face falls. “I…fell off the rails when I was a teenager, though. Did a lot of bad stuff. During that time, my dad had a heart attack. He managed to teach me how to ride a little, but never got to finish. Instead, it was Old Man Brooks who taught me the rest, after he took me by the ear and asked me what I thought I was doing with my life.”

  I feel my heart going out to him. Is that why Kyle loves his motorbike? Because it makes him feel closer to his father?

  “Old Man Brooks?” I ask.

  “The mechanic I work for,” Kyle says with a half smile. “He caught me stealing from him when I was nineteen. He could have called the cops on me, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave me a job, taught me the trade and put me through school.” He chuckles. “That fucking old man… I’ll never be able to repay him for that.”

  “Wow,” I say, sitting back. “Looks like you’ve had an exciting life. I haven’t done anything more exciting than move out of home and go to college.”

  “That sounds plenty exciting,” Kyle laughs.

  “What about the Roughshod Rollers?” I ask. “How’d you get involved with them?”

  “It was Ethan that found me,” Kyle says with a smile. “He brought his motorbike to us to be fixed. We became fast friends, and then he introduced me to George Barker, the one who started the club in the first place. Unfortunately, I didn’t know him for very long; about two years after I met him, he also died in an accident.”

  I remember thinking, before, that Kyle knew what it felt like to lose someone in the same way I did. He must be the man who set up the poker nights for them, the one that passed away.

  “I’m sorry,” I say; his l
osses are both a lot more recent than mine.

  “It’s okay,” he says with a smile. “We just keep moving forward.”

  The waiter approaches again, and I quickly scan the menu, realizing that I don’t know what to order. I give him the name of a pasta dish that looks nice and he leaves again. There’s an awkward silence left in his wake; we’d been interrupted in the middle of talking about something serious, and now neither of us knows what to say next.

  “What about your family?” Kyle asks.

  “Oh, I just have an older brother,” I say, startled by the question. “He’s a doctor.”

  “A doctor and a lawyer,” Kyle says, sounding impressed. “Your mother must be proud.”

  I smile. “I like to think so. I’ll be finished with my degree, soon. My brother keeps joking that I can defend him from a lawsuit if it comes up. I tell him that if he does anything that requires a lawsuit to be brought up against him, then he’s on his own.”

  Kyle laughs. “I wish I had siblings, but I was an only child. It was just me and dad.”

  “What about your mother?” I ask curiously.

  Kyle shrugs. “Don’t know. She ran off when I was little, and I never asked about her. It’s not like it mattered much. I saw a picture of her, once. An old photo of my dad and mom when they were young. They weren’t married, and they weren’t expecting me, but they still tried. But mom found a better life and left us behind, I guess.”

  I’m not sure what to say to that. Kyle says it so matter-of-factly that it throws me off. I guess he’s had a long time to come to terms with it.

  “I see,” I say. I rally myself again. “So, do you have any other interests?”

  “I play the guitar,” Kyle muses. “What about you?”

  I grin. “Poetry. I love poetry.”

  Kyle laughs. “You’ll have to show me some time.”

  “No way,” I say, making a face. “You’ll just laugh at me.”

  We laugh again. This is comfortable, I realize. I’m enjoying my time out with Kyle. I’m really enjoying it. This was what I wanted to know, wasn’t it? If the date bombed, then it was never going to work out.

  But I like finding out more information about Kyle and learning more about his life. It’s nice to be sitting across the table from him, watching his expression change with each story. I want to know more. I want to know everything.

  I really can’t pull away from him. I smile slightly.

  Maybe I was a fool to try.

  I convince Kyle to come up to my apartment for coffee after the date, not quite ready to let him leave just yet. He grins, pleased, and follows me up the old stairs. My entire body is thrumming.

  Coffee? Coffee sounds great, of course. But I want Kyle, right now.

  The date went well. Very well. I found myself pulled closer and closer to him, drawn in by the magnetic attraction that I’ve been trying to escape. As he spoke, revealing more pieces of himself, I gave in. I’m never going to be able to escape him.

  And that’s okay, I decide. Maybe I don’t want to, anymore.

  On the ride home, I pressed the full length of my body against him, wrapping my arms tightly around his chest. There were too many layers, I found myself thinking. I wanted them all off. I wanted to reveal more of him, to strip him bare and learn more.

  Now we’re back home, and all I want is for Kyle to touch me and for my hands to be on him once more.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” Kyle asks as he follows me into the apartment, closing the door behind me.

  And, in a flash, I’m on him, pushing him up against the door. His eyes widen and then his arms wind around me, his pupils dilating in seconds. I’m not the only that has been thinking about it, then. I give him a slow grin.

  “Yes,” I say into his ear. “It was a wonderful date. God, Kyle, do you know how much I want you right now? All the way home, I just wanted to slip my hands under your jacket and touch you.”

  Kyle growls and reverses our position, so I’m the one up against the door, and leans in close.

  “I wish you did,” he says huskily. “I wish we hadn’t been in traffic so you could. I can just imagine your hands all over me while we sit on my bike. How badly did you want me, Allison?”

  “So much,” I purr. We’ve barely even touched each other yet, and my body is trembling with need, remembering what it feels like to have his hands on me. “I almost didn’t make it all the way up here.”

  Kyle presses himself against me. His erection is already throbbing in his pants.

  “Me neither,” he says.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips to his. The door is hard against my back, and my leg lifts to curve around his hips, dragging him closer so that I can feel every line of his body pressed against mine. We’re both wearing too many layers, dressed as we were for the weather, and I scrabble at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He unbuttons my jacket, too, his fingers rough and demanding, and both articles of clothing drop to the floor.

  “It’s not fair, you’re wearing two jackets,” I say, breaking the kiss.

  “Why don’t I take those off,” Kyle says, biting my ear. “And you can give me the show you promised me?”

  It takes me a moment to remember what he’s talking about.

  “You can give me a strip show.”

  “Just remind me of that and I’ll give you a lap dance, too.”

  Heat races through me and I give him a slow grin, pushing him back.

  “Sit down, then,” I purr. “I’ll give you that show and, if you’re lucky, I might even fulfill the other promise, too.”

  I can see that he remembers, and I grin as he stumbles backward and crashes onto the couch, fumbling with his jacket to remove it.

  “Take off your shirt, Kyle,” I say, stalking toward him.

  He scrambles to obey. As he does this, I finger the hem of my shirt, lifting it teasingly to show him my stomach. I inch it up bit by bit, and he barely seems to breathe as he watches me, his mouth slightly open. I shimmy my shirt up and over my head, dragging it slowly over my arms before dropping it to the ground.

  “Your jeans,” I say, my voice rough.

  He almost chokes, but he hurries to do as I ask, unbuckling his jeans and throwing them aside once he’s slipped them over his legs, taking his socks and shoes with them. His cock is standing tall in his boxers, leaking through with need.

  I kick off my shoes and lift a leg, slowly sliding one sock off. Then I take the other off. I’ve never felt sexier than now, with the way Kyle is watching me take off my clothes, and I stretch my arms over my head, his eyes following the bounce of my breasts and the twist of my hips. Then I snap open the button on my jeans and drag the zipper down, showing just a hint of my panties.

  Kyle’s eyes are fixed on my hands. I feel a thrill run through me at how closely he’s watching me. I push my jeans over my hips and bend over, slowly guiding the material over my legs. When they hit the floor I straighten to find Kyle tugging on his own penis, his hips thrusting up with a groan.

  “No touching,” I say teasingly, stepping out of my jeans and making my way toward him, clad only in my underwear.

  I slap his hands away and swing a leg over his lap, straddling him. I sit down on his hips, and I hear his choked cry as his hardened penis slides underneath my body. His hips buck up, seeking pressure, and I put my hands on his shoulders as I slowly circle my own hips, pressing down against him.

  “Fuck,” Kyle says, his eyes rolling back.

  I grin. “Do you like that?”

  “Fuck, yes,” he groans.

  His hips hump up against me, desperate for release, and I grind down against him, panting as my body thrums with pleasure, wanting more. I had planned to tease him for a little while longer, though, to show him just how much I needed him before we moved on.

  But, all of a sudden, Kyle stands. His hands are underneath my butt, and he hauls himself up off the couch, my legs wrapping around his waist before I fall. He meets my li
ps in a hungry kiss, my hands tangling in his hair.

  “You fucking tease,” he says roughly when we part. “I’m going to fuck you hard for that.”

  My breath catches. “Yes,” I hiss, my fingers clenching on his shoulders. “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

  Nothing else matters. Not our misunderstanding, not the fact that we’re still feeling our way through something new. All that matters is me being here in Kyle’s arms.

  I’m right where I want to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kyle

  It’s the first time that I’ve felt like we’re actually doing this because we want to. Every other time we’ve had sex, something else has been happening in the background. We’ve either been drunk or Jesse has been hovering over us, leading Allison to desperately seek reassurance. Ethan wasn’t wrong in saying that our entire relationship, so far, has been based on the bad things that have happened.

  But not tonight. Tonight, Allison got on my motorbike. Tonight, we sat in a restaurant and finally spoke about ourselves, and got to know each other. Tonight, we haven’t had anything other than soda to drink, and Jesse is distant in both our minds.

  Tonight, we want each other just because we want each other.

  The knowledge gives me a heady feeling as I carry Allison to the bedroom, her legs wrapped around me. She’s alive in my arms, kissing my neck and biting my collar, her hands exploring my shoulders and my arms. I almost falter as she pinches my nipple, and I feel her grin against my skin.

  “I’ll drop you,” I warn her.

  “No, you won’t,” she says confidently.

  That, right there, is worth more than gold. I knew she trusted me before now, but it was only because I was the only one she felt she could rely on to protect her from Jesse since I’ve already done it once. Now, though, Jesse isn’t around, and she’s trusting me just because I’m me.

  I groan.

  “You’re killing me here,” I tell her.

  “Good,” she whispers into my ear, her breath blowing against my earlobe. “Maybe you’ll hurry up then.”