Pregnant by the Rival CEO

She wrapped her hands around his waist tentatively. She didn’t want to be so hopelessly obvious. Better to wait until their speed warranted a stronger grip. The next thing she knew, they were moving, albeit slowly, as he turned to close the garage door. Then he sped up, rounding the outbuildings, chugging down the gravel driveway to the road, opening the gate ahead of them with another click of the fob.

He came to a dead stop at the road, balancing them with his foot on the blacktop as the gate closed behind them.

“You can go a little faster, you know,” she yelled.

“That was gravel,” he called back. “You want fast?”

Anna gulped. “Yes.”

“I’ll show you fast.”

He revved the gas, still keeping them in place. The power of the engine had her body trembling. The bike lurched and they hurtled ahead like a rocket. They flew down the narrow state road, picking up speed, much faster than they’d gone in his car. Maybe it only seemed that way because she no longer had the protection of a steel cage around her. The momentum of the bike pulled her away from him, and she tightened her grip around his waist, clamped her thighs to his hips. Her shoulders tensed, but at the same time, she felt freed. It was the oddest sensation. Laughter and elation bubbled out of her. The wind whipped at her jeans, but the jacket kept her warm. As did Jacob. Very warm.

The engine popped and roared whenever he changed gears. Masterfully, he handled the bike, leading them through a curve. She grabbed him even tighter as he leaned them into the turn, defying the laws of gravity. The way his shoulders shifted, maneuvering the bike through the treacherous bend, was unspeakably hot. She loved seeing him so in control. One wrong move and they’d both be gone. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine wrong. He was infallible. Invincible.

They continued for miles, on narrow, serpentine roads. He took her through a small town with a roundabout, the changing leaves fluttering around them, people milling about from a coffee shop to a farmer’s market, bundled up in hats and scarves. She felt as cozy as could be, as if she was curled up in front of the fire. The fire of Jacob. Once they got back to the open stretches of rural road, he took off like a bat out of hell again. He got cocky on a long straightaway, weaving back and forth. If only he could have seen the mile-wide smile on her face. He’d earned his macho moment. And good for him for claiming it.

Much too soon, the road returned to where they’d started, only this time, from the opposite direction. He took the gravel drive leading to his house slowly again, expertly guiding them into the safety of the garage.

Anna was catching her breath, adrenaline coursing through her. She unclasped her hands from Jacob’s waist, but her arms were heavy under the weight of the jacket and they dropped. Dead center. Between his legs. She yanked back her hands as if she’d touched a hot stove. In some ways, that was exactly what she’d done. She gripped his shoulders to climb off the motorcycle. Embarrassment flooded her. She could only imagine what he must be thinking. Was he wondering if that was her awkward attempt at a pass? Because she was wondering the same thing.

Five

Composure was no longer possible. Jacob gripped the motorcycle handlebars, but only to steady himself. Anna and her slender, feminine hands had just stirred primal urges from the depths of his gut. It had been building in the car. The motorcycle ride brought it closer to the boil—her arms coiled around him, her clasped hands pressing into his stomach when he went faster, her thighs pressing into his hips, squeezing him when he took the turns. And then there had been the noises she made—muffled shrieks and cries of excitement. How was a man supposed to live through that without his body responding?

And then she’d touched him there.

He closed his eyes to take the edge off, but the reality was that he wanted her, and he was fairly certain that she wanted him. Was that brush across his crotch her way of sending a message? It didn’t seem at all like Anna’s style—she was subtle and demure, rarely so bold, but she’d been testing limits of late, with her brother and her career. Was she testing Jacob? He had to find out. Every drop of blood circling below his waist was making it impossible to let the question go unanswered.

He dared to open his eyes. She’d removed her helmet. He’d missed the moment when she took it off, but the result was worth it. Her hair was mussed—tousled, nearly disheveled, not at all its usual glossy neatness. He liked it. He liked it a lot. He could picture the rich, dark color against the white sheets of his bed. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy; he hoped not from the brisk autumn air, but from the thrill of the ride, the rush of being close to each other.