The Dangerous Curves Series

Chapter 11

“Look, Jax, I’m sorry. I know I’m being horribly rude. I really appreciate you and the guys helping me out last night, but I really, really have to go.” They were at her car now, and Sarah yanked her keys out of her purse. “I just have to –”

She stopped speaking, her eyes widening as she took in the damage. “Oh. Oh, no.”

“What?” Jax tore his eyes from her panicked face to look at the car. “Oh, man.

He walked around, checking the tires. Yeah, they were all slashed. That fucker.

“Oh, God.” She looked at her watch. Thirty-one minutes, and I just bet he senses that something’s wrong. I bet he even knows I’ve been hurt. “I’m not going to make it.”

“You got a plane to catch or something, doll?”

“I need to get home, Jax… can you call a taxi for me? Please? I need to… oh, God.”

He studied her face, saw that she was well and truly seconds away from full-on losing her s**t. Whatever it was, it was serious.

“Where do you live?’ he asked.

“Mariposa Street.”

Jax paused. “Lincoln Park?”

“Yeah.”

Shit. That’s a bad f*****g neighborhood. Surprising that she’s from that side of town.

“So, can you please call me a taxi, Jax? I need to –”

“Hey, calm down, OK? I’ll drive you.”

The wave of relief that washed across her face was amazing. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Come on.”

He led her over to his bike, fished the keys out of his jeans pocket. She paused, looking uncertain.

“Never been on a motorcycle before?” Jax said.

“N – no.” She looked at her watch again, and that seemed to stiffen her resolve. “First time for everything, I suppose.”

“I need to get you a helmet. Two minutes.”

“OK.” She really wanted to tell him that she didn’t have two minutes, but safety first, she supposed.

To his credit, he was back in less than a minute, and had both their helmets strapped on thirty seconds after that. He got on the bike and started it up, revving it a few times. She just stood there, terrified at the thought of getting on a motorcycle, but more terrified of what would happen if she wasn’t home in twenty-eight minutes.

Jax braced the weight of the bike on one strong leg, and extended his hand to her. “Ready?”

She nodded, took his hand, let him help her straddle the bike. She grappled for something to hold on to, and Jax reached around behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest.

“Hold on to me, Red.” He turned a bit and grinned at her. “Don’t want to lose you when we take off, right?”

She shook her head, now officially totally freaked out.

Jax revved the bike one last time, then hit the gas. They peeled out, and Sarah tightened her arms around him even more, not caring if she was cutting off his air, so long as she didn’t tumble backwards off the damn bike. She felt herself sliding on the curves in the road, and acting purely on instinct, she pressed her thighs against his legs, holding herself in place.

Jax loved every second of it. After having spent the whole night longing to touch her, even just a little bit, here he had her completely wrapped around him. Her gorgeous breasts were pressed up against his back, her hands were clutching his muscular chest, he was gripped between her curved thighs. His c**k hardened, and he almost groaned at how good it felt for her to be right up on him like this.

Sarah could practically hear the minutes ticking away in her head, but she wasn’t about to let go of Jax to lift her arm and check her watch again. She closed her eyes, and tried to relax. The early Sunday morning traffic was almost non-existent, and Jax seemed to know every shortcut in Denver, so they were actually making great time. She was sure she was going to get back home to him in time, and she felt some of the tension leave her body. She took a deep breath, and opened her eyes again.

It suddenly occurred to her where she was, and with whom. She was on a motorcycle, under a perfect, blue June sky, with the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. Her hands were clutched tight on that broad chest, the curves of his muscles smooth and defined under her fingertips. Her body was pushed up against that strong back, his wide shoulders loomed over her. Between her legs and arms she cradled over two hundred pounds of hot, hard man. Unable to help herself, she lowered her helmeted head to his back, and just rested it there, breathing him in. He smelled of something fresh and clean – something citrusy – and it was mixed with a darker, more dangerous scent. Musk, cigarettes, whiskey. Pure man.

Oh, my God. He is just so sexy. Good Lord, girl. Relax and enjoy the ride.