Mack cruised at a steady speed, just over
sixty miles per hour, Brad’s bright red ass five seconds ahead of
his bike. Once Sylvia’s slipped away behind them, it became obvious
that the kid wasn’t interested in outrunning him—if he were, he
wouldn’t keep looking in his mirrors to make sure Mack followed. He
hadn’t put his helmet back on for this ride, and his blonde locks
whipped to one side every time he checked the mirror. Mack could
imagine the feel of that hair between his fingers—tangled and
slightly oily from the wind. His hands tightened on the handlebars,
goosing the throttle involuntarily as he wondered what that hair
would smell like pressed against his nose. A clean, wild scent,
perhaps, that gave way to sweaty musk closer to Brad’s scalp. He’d
find out.
Easing into
