Izzy pov
The thought of wanting to get off flickers through my mind, but it vanishes when his hands slide down, gripping the inside of my thighs, pulling me back until my body is flush against his. His chest presses firmly against my back, and I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. Every part of him feels close, too close, and I suddenly forget how to breathe.
He reaches down, taking my hands and placing them gently on his legs. “You can hold onto my legs,” he murmurs, his tone steady, yet almost protective. “Or here, whichever makes you feel safer.” He motions to the sides of the bike. And then his arms come around me, his hands gripping the handles on either side of me.
The roar of the engine ignites, a powerful, vibrating hum that reverberates through me, and I squeeze my eyes
