Millionaire Playboys. Emilie Rose
could get used to this. I could even like it.
Juliana Alden, biker chick. Her mother would have a stroke. A chuckle slipped from Juliana’s lips, and then she sobered and said a prayer of thanks that her mother had decided to punish her with the silent treatment since the auction. She hadn’t caught grief from her other family members, either, because her father had been out of town and her brother had been occupied with Holly.
Ick. Not a path she wanted to travel.
Rex downshifted and pulled the Harley to a stop. “Your turn.”
Juliana’s pulse, which had slowed to a steady thump over the last fifteen minutes, galloped once more. She twisted on the seat. Rex’s face was so close she could see every pore, every individual blade of beard stubble, and each tiny crease at the corners of his eyes and on the surface of his lips. Gulp. “Already?”
She lifted her gaze to his. For several seconds, he didn’t look away and then his dark chocolate eyes lowered to her mouth. Her breath lodged in her chest. She inhaled unsteadily. All she had to do was lean forward and—
Rex released the handlebars, slid back on the seat and fisted his hands on his thighs.
“You’re ready to drive.” His voice sounded an octave lower than usual. Rough. Rusty. Sexy.
Juliana wet her parched lips and batted down her disappointment. If she’d ever wanted a man to kiss her this badly, she couldn’t remember the occasion. She’d certainly never experienced even a fraction of this much need for Wally.
Wally, she mentally cringed and faced forward again. How could she have forgotten about him? He was nice and steady and her parents liked him. According to her mother, his administrative assistant, a divorcée with three children, had bought him at the auction. How could Donna afford a bachelor at the obscene prices they’d brought Saturday night? A fifty-pound bag of guilt dropped on Juliana’s shoulders. Wally had probably footed the bill. Had he been expecting Juliana to buy him? If so, she owed him an apology.
Perhaps by the end of the month marrying Wally wouldn’t seem like selling out her dream of finding true desire. If she wasn’t capable of heart-racing passion, then why hold out for it?
A cloud passed over the sun and she shivered. The rebel behind her would never understand the allure of a risk-free option or Juliana’s fear that safe, sensible Wally might be the best she could do. “Are you sure I can handle the motorcycle?”
“Yeah. I’ll be right here behind you if you need help.” He kicked out the passenger foot pegs.
Juliana’s palms dampened on the rubber grips. She missed the reassuring warmth of Rex against her back and the protective embrace of his arms and legs bracketing hers. She tested the clutch and throttle, and then lifted her foot to the gear pedal.
Rex’s hands settled on her waist. The unexpected contact against her bare skin sent a shock wave through her. She released the clutch too quickly, and the bike jerked forward and choked off, slamming him against her back.
“Easy. Try again.” His breath teased her ear.
How could she concentrate with his hands scorching her? As if he’d read her thoughts, he shifted them upward, away from her bare skin, but bringing them to rest on her rib cage just below her breasts. Not an improvement if clear thought was the goal. The thin fabric of her camisole did nothing to block the transfer of heat between his skin and hers.
Grinding her molars against the surprising need to cover his palms and slide them up a few inches, she put the bike back in neutral, fired the engine and tried again. The machine lurched and cut off. Her third and fourth tries weren’t any more successful. Each hop smacked her against Rex, increasing her tension and frustration. “I can’t do this.”
“You can.” His no-nonsense tone cut through her embarrassment. “Would it help if I put my hands back on the handlebars?”
“Yes.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and steamed her scalp inside the helmet. She didn’t dare turn to look at his face. “I’m having a bit of trouble concentrating when you…touch me.”
His whistled breath sounded loud in the sudden silence.
“Drive.” It sounded as if he’d forced the word through clenched teeth. His hands bracketed hers beside the controls.
Closing her eyes, Juliana tried to gather her scattered wits and visualized the required steps. The bike rolled forward. She quickly lifted her lids and fought to stay away from the white board fences. Changing into second gear went smoother. She wanted to pump her arms in triumph, but didn’t dare release her stranglehold on the grips.
She’d just shifted into third gear when Rex moved his hands back to her waist. Each of his fingers sent a marching band of awareness parading across her skin. Her jaws clamped on a whimper. It took one hundred percent of her attention to keep from wrecking the motorcycle into a nearby apple tree.
And then it hit her. She was driving Rex’s big, bad, black Harley. Sure, Rex was behind her, but she was in control of the machine. Adrenaline surged through her. She lifted her face to the wind and laughed out loud.
Her joy lasted all of five minutes. A fat raindrop landed on her cheek. Moments later the bottom fell out of the clouds and rain poured. Rex leaned forward and yelled in her ear. “Head for the barn. Park inside.”
Juliana steered the motorcycle toward shelter and opened the throttle as much as she dared. She raced through raindrops pelting her arms and face like bee stings. Within seconds her clothing was saturated and goose bumps covered her skin. She downshifted and pulled through the open barn doors.
Rex reached around her to kill the engine, and then lowered the kickstand and climbed from the bike. Still high on her accomplishment, Juliana followed. She tugged off her helmet and set it beside Rex’s on the seat. The rain hammered on the metal roof with deafening force, but the storm couldn’t dampen her excitement, and she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
She—boring account auditor Juliana Alden—had driven a motorcycle and not just any motorcycle, but a hog…the most notorious machine on the road. If she could control this monster, then she could control anything—even her recently unsettled life.
She wanted to shout with joy, to laugh out loud and to celebrate her accomplishment. Instead, she threw her arms around Rex’s neck and planted a kiss on his bristly cheek. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
His hands fastened on her bare waist with scalding heat, but instead of pushing her away, Rex held her captive. His warmth penetrated her cold, saturated clothing, raising her temperature inside and out. Her breasts prodded his chest and his thighs laced with hers. Aroused male, encased in steaming wet denim, pressed against her belly. She shivered, but not from cold.
Juliana tilted her head back and met his gaze in the shadowy barn. Coffee-colored eyes burned into hers before tracing the rain trails across her face. A lone drop quivered on the corner of her lip. He bent and sipped up the droplet.
She gasped at the lightning force of the tiny caress and her heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers curled into his shoulders, and then Rex’s mouth took hers in a devouring kiss. Hard. Urgent. His tongue tangled with hers and his hands splayed over her buttocks, yanking her closer. A dam burst. Shock receded and pleasure flooded Juliana’s bloodstream.
She cradled his bristly cheeks and held on as unfamiliar but delicious sensations danced through her. His face and lips were damp from the rain, but hot, oh so hot. His evening beard abraded her palms and then her fingers reached his hair. She tugged the strip of leather free and twined the soft, springy strands around her fingers. The ends were damp and cool from the rain, a complete contrast to the fire flickering to life inside her.
His hands raked upward from her hips to her ribs. Her nipples tightened and her breath hitched in anticipation. One big hand cupped her breast and her knees quaked.
He stroked her tight nipple, stirring a swarm of need low in her belly. She’d never experienced anything so intense, so incredibly urgent.