Fresh from being dumped for being too boring, shy and geeky Cynthia Goode decides to shake up her dull life by entering a provocative contest at a popular country western bar. She doesn’t win first prize at the Naughty Nightie mechanical bull riding contest, but she does win the attention of sexy biker Brody Cruz.
Living out what she thinks is a fantasy, she lets Brody take her home for a night she won’t forget.
She warmed, from his touch, his words and the way he was gazing at her. His stare moved from her eyes lower. She realized he was looking at her mouth and she fluttered her eyes closed and leaned into him. Cynthia was done pretending she didn’t want him. She so did. Brody brought his lips to hers and her breath caught in her throat. His mouth was warm, his kiss possessive and assured, unlike anything else she’d ever experienced. Her palms grew moist and she twisted the leather skirt in her hands as Brody plunged his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back.
“I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you tonight.” His voice was a raspy whisper. He let her go, but their gazes held.
The intensity of his stare made her feel vulnerable, but also aroused. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d meet a man like Brody tonight. Or any other night. She leaned against the wall for support and stepped into her skirt.
“Let’s get you home.” He reached for her hand and pulled her toward the motorcycle parked near the front of the building. The big machine was black with lots of chrome that glinted in the lights of the parking lot. Brody hopped astride the bike and handed his helmet to her. “Put this on.”
“What will you wear?” She gnawed her lip. She hated taking his only helmet.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve ridden countless times without a helmet. Mainly back when I was young and stupid like Eric.” He shrugged.
She put it on and fastened it under her chin, but she had to ask for his help in adjusting the strap so it fit her. Hiking her skirt up her thighs, she straddled the big machine and sat on the seat behind Brody. He let go of the handlebars and turned to take both her hands in his. “Wrap your arms around me like this. Put your feet on those pegs. Hang on tight.”
She did as he told her, but gulped and nodded. If she wasn’t already tipsy, she was intoxicated now on the thrill of the situation. Brody kicked up the kickstand then rocked the bike and backed it out of the space. He turned the ignition and the powerful engine roared to life. The seat vibrated beneath her and Brody masterfully maneuvered the machine out of the parking lot. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head against his shoulder. She clung to him. This was bound to be a wild ride.
About the author
A self-professed bookworm, Netflix junkie and all around story geek, Ariel Storm started writing as an adolescent and hasn’t looked back. In her late teens she picked up a paperback romance and was hooked. Her obsession with love stories stems from her desire to shine light and positivity into a negative, dark world.
Although she’s held almost every job imaginable, from working in a restaurant, a call center and public libraries, ‘writer’ is her favorite job title, and one she feels blessed to have.
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