I sighed and nodded but felt my head sway forward a little too far. Note to self, don’t move head too much while wearing a helmet! Once I had the jacket on he helped me down to the floor, guiding me out of the building and into the car park located at the side. He stopped next to a terrifyingly large, black motorbike. I looked at it with wide, horrified eyes. The thing was huge and the seat came up to my waist; it was shiny and expensive-looking. I felt sick just thinking about riding on it.
When he smiled and swung a leg over the bike, starting it up, I jumped at the roar of the engine. Oh, shit, I’m going to die! Should I tell him I love him, just in case we don’t make it to my flat? He turned and patted the seat behind him. Even though I was terrified, I couldn’t help but notice how sexy he looked sitting on that bike. His hair was all messy, a smirk resided on his full lips – he looked like the perfect bad boy. He gripped my hand and helped me onto the seat behind him.
“Oh, God. Please don’t kill me!” I begged, wrapping my arms around his waist, probably squeezing the life out of him as I pressed my helmeted head into his back. He laughed and gripped one of my ankles, putting my foot on the little footrest, then did the same to the other.
“So, where am I going?” he asked. He gripped my hands and pulled them off him, guiding me to grip my own wrists instead. “Maybe you could find something else to hold onto, instead of my skin?” He laughed.
I gripped my wrist tightly and gave him my address, telling him which streets to take. He nodded and turned back to the road, twisting the throttle, and we took off. Fast. Whimpering, I squeezed him tighter as the wind whipped the bottom of my hair around. I looked at the street as we were driving, seeing the buildings whip past in a blur. Everything felt so fast, close and dangerous. My heart was hammering. I felt sick. I needed to stop. All I could think about was that if I died, Rory and Sasha would be on their own.
“Carson, stop!” I screamed. My throat cracked and hurt but I didn’t care. “Stop! I want to get off!” I cried, digging my fingers into his stomach. Almost immediately, he pulled over and looked over his shoulder at me. I gasped for breath and pushed myself off the bike. My legs felt like they’d turned to jelly. I fumbled with the helmet, needing fresh air. I pushed it off and shoved it into his chest. “I can’t. I…I…I’ll walk,” I stuttered breathlessly.
He frowned. “Emma, seriously, I promise it’s safe. I won’t let you get hurt.” He gripped my hand and pulled me closer to him, looking into my eyes. “I promise. Cross my heart.” He crossed one finger over his chest. “Trust me?”
The streetlight cast a yellowish hue over his face, highlighting some of his features, yet covering others. The shadows somehow made him look even more attractive. I gulped. I didn’t want to get back on the bike but his eyes were pleading, begging me to trust him. He gripped my waist and pulled me onto his lap. Moving one of my legs so I was now straddling him, he scooted back on the seat slightly and stroked my face lightly.
“I wouldn’t let you get hurt. I promise it’s safe,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. He gripped the helmet and positioned it above my head, pulling it down a little but giving me a chance to stop him. I didn’t move. I wanted to trust him. He did this for a living for goodness’ sake, and I knew he was a good driver, so I was being a total wimp right now. When I didn’t protest, he smiled and pulled the helmet down over my head again, clipping it back on. He took my arms and wrapped them around him before starting the bike up. “You just keep your eyes on me, okay?” he instructed, smirking at me cockily.
Wait, I’m not moving back behind him? He’s going to drive with me on his lap like this? I did as I was told, keeping my eyes locked on his face and watching the small smile, which didn’t seem to leave his mouth the whole time. It felt like as soon as we started driving, we stopped again, but I knew that was just because I was sitting on his lap with my body wrapped around his, staring at his face.
He cut the engine and looked down at me while he ran a hand through his windswept hair, obviously trying to fix it. He didn’t really need to, though; he looked as inhumanly beautiful as ever. I gulped and laid back against the handlebars, pulling the helmet off and breathing a sigh of relief that I would get to kiss my little girl goodnight. Closing my eyes and gulping in lungfuls of fresh air, I let my heart slow down to normal. Carson groaned quietly, and then his hand cupped the side of my neck. His palm trailed slowly down my body, brushing against my breasts before pushing against my stomach lightly, guiding the material of my jumper up and exposing the skin of my belly. I moaned at the exquisite feel of it. His fingers traced across my stomach, one finger dipping into my bellybutton before he bent forward and pressed his body to mine, making my legs instinctively tighten around his waist.
He kissed the side of my neck gently, his finger still playing with my bellybutton. “Thank you for trusting me,” he whispered in my ear, nibbling on my earlobe.
I smiled and stroked the back of his head. “Thanks for the lift home, even though you almost gave me a heart attack doing it.”
He laughed and pulled back, his face inches from mine, making my whole body hot despite the cold temperature. “You’ll get used to it. It’s all about practice; it’ll just get easier and easier each time.” He kissed my cheek and straightened up and I looked at him a little shocked. What was that supposed to mean? Was he planning to give me a lift home again another time? I wasn’t really sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it was terrifying, but on the other hand, I liked seeing him outside the club; it felt different, more intimate, more real.