Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club 4)

Finally, he spoke. “What do you think your boyfriend would see in my painting?”

“Pardon me?”

“I’m asking about your boyfriend.” His voice was casual. “It’s because I’m curious if you have one, but I’m too subtle to ask.”

My smile leaked out before I could play it cool. “Oh, I see.” A warm tingle built at the base of my spine. “I don’t know. I don’t have a boyfriend. My last one lacked your . . . subtlety.” I noticed the jacket and helmet in his hands. He’d stowed his helmet on the bike. “Who’s that for?”

His fingers drummed on the hard shell. “You, if you’re up for it. My friend’s tattoo place is in Lakeview.”

The mere thought of climbing onto the bike and wrapping my arms around his waist sent heat blasting through me. My knees pinched together. “You can’t tattoo here?”

“No, I don’t have any of the equipment. I used to work out of my friend’s shop when I needed steady pay, but now I only do ink as a favor. I called him and he said we could come by.”

“Favor,” I repeated.

Silas thrust the helmet at me. “Yeah. Joseph gave me a heads up you might call.”

I stared at the black plastic and foam that would protect my brain if my hands wandered and made Silas crash, which I had serious concerns about.

“You nervous about riding on a motorcycle?” His grin melted my underwear. “I promise I’ll go slow.”

No, that wasn’t what I wanted. Needles might turn my stomach inside-out, but a motorcycle was something I could handle. I pulled the helmet from his hands, headed toward the front door, and hoped he couldn’t hear the excitement that tinged my voice. “Let’s go.”

Chapter

FOUR

Silas’s motorcycle was all chrome and glossy black with a large front wheel. It was a throwback, cruiser style, but aggressive and reeked of testosterone. I tucked my head into the spare helmet as Silas straddled the bike and donned his. The throaty roar of the engine drowned out the jitters in my head about what was going to happen. His visor was up and the whites of his eyes stood out in the shadow, then his head ticked back, gesturing for me to get on.

Fuck, he didn’t have to tell me twice.

His shoulder was a rock as I steadied my hand on it, hoisting my leg over the bike and settling down on the tiny leather cushion. There wasn’t much room left for me, given his size, which meant I’d have to get close. Mmmm, no issue there.

Both of his hands were on the handlebars, and it was clear he was waiting. I slid my ass closer until my body was pressed against his, my breasts flattened against his broad back and my crotch fitted tight to him. Was this what it was like for teenage boys? To be so goddamn horny you could barely function?

I slipped my hands around his waist and felt his rib cage expand as he took a deep breath. A smile teased my lips at his reaction, which he couldn’t see.

His muffled voice rang out. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

His hand came off the bike, cinched one of my arms tighter, and slapped his visor down. We jerked away from the curb and were off.

The anxiety-inducing tattoo process was barely a thought. Riding on the back of the bike with one hand hanging onto his belt and the other inside his jacket, splayed on his chest, was like eating dessert before dinner. Once we got going, the September air was chilly. The fitted t-shirt and jeans I had on only gave me some protection, and I curled closer to Silas.

It was more physical contact than I’d had with the opposite sex in weeks. It was made all the better when we came to a stop at a light and his calloused hand rested gently on top of mine.

“I should have given you my jacket,” he yelled over the engine. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t a lie. I was happily cold, burrowed against him. Was that his real intention, to ‘forget’ the jacket and force me to snuggle close? If so, I had no problem with it. I loved the excuse to touch him. Besides, his hand on mine made me warm inside.

Traffic wasn’t too bad, and true to his word, Silas didn’t drive recklessly or fast. I was in no hurry to get there or for the ride to be over. Was it the same for him?

Things got interesting when we stopped at a long light, and my hand slid to rest on top of his thigh. Beneath the denim, the muscle tightened. I couldn’t help it. My sex-starved body stole command from my brain, and my fingernails raked up his thigh, narrowly grazing just to side of his fly.

The groan was barely discernable. “Regan.” His helmet swung my direction. “What was that about?”

“I’m interested in you, but I’m too subtle to tell you outright.”