She had never ridden on a motorbike before. Now here she was, in a state of the Union she'd only visited twice before, riding pillion on what her friend called a Victory motorbike, made mostly in the US, "more Victory than Harley", he had said. Whatever that meant. They had just gone down the driveway but she was as tightly wound as a drum, her knees locked in place on either side of his hips.
"Darlin', you have to relax, or else you'll be a mass of pain when we get back!" He turned to look at her briefly, then continued, "Put your arms around me, lass, and tuck your knees into my thighs." He nodded when she complied. "Yeah, that's right, just like that! Now, relax!"
She tried, but she couldn't stop her knees from tensing, and he felt it.
"Think of riding the bike as riding your lover. You have to make love to it, become one with it, flow with it." He turned again, grinning at her, and she blushed to the roots of her hair. "Can you do that, Carrie?"
He settled his behind on the seat in front of her, and wiggled backwards just a little, making her feel him more between her legs. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a desire to ride him overwhelmed her, causing her to blush again and lower her head. She relaxed, and gave in to the impulse to slide her hands up his belly to his chest. The leather was smooth, cool, sensual to the touch. She felt his chest rise and fall, and she smiled. Bryan felt Carrie slide her hands up his chest, and his response was immediate and telling. He was glad she hadn't thought to put her hands on his legs and slide them up there, or his erection would have given him away at once. She was visiting from out of state, and had called to say she was in his neck of the woods. He thought a bike ride and a picnic made for a good date, if you could call it that, since she was leaving at the end of the week to go back to work. The whole summer had passed, and he had given up on seeing her. So when she had left a message on his cell phone, telling him she was in town already, he had been hard pressed not to dance a jig in front of his work mates.
He rode easily, making sure to stay well within the speed limit, because he knew she was a first timer, and nervous. He felt her relaxing the longer they rode, and by the time they reached the spot he'd chosen for their picnic, in the park by the lake, she was so relaxed he thought she might be asleep. Her cheek was pressed against his back and her arms held him close. He slowed to a stop, and savored the feel of her against him. When he finally stopped completely, he felt her chest rise and fall against his back in a deep sigh. It made him smile.
"We're here!" he said gently, turning his head. "You okay?"
Carrie let go of him and got clumsily off the bike. "Yes," she replied, and then stumbled. Her legs trembled from their long unaccustomed position on the bike.
Bryan hopped off the bike and grabbed her before she fell. "Hey! Come on, lass!"
He took her by the elbow and led her over to the big tree by the lake, where he always came when he wanted to think, to be alone, to be at peace.
"Sit here, love!" He spread the blanket he had tied onto the back of the bike, and watched as she settled her ample frame on it, her back against the tree.
"Don't you need any help?" she asked, feeling guilty.
"What for? It's nothing!"
He unloaded the saddlebags, and spread the cheese, fruit, and wine, and two glasses out on the checkered cloth he'd also brought. Carrie looked around, idly plucking plump grapes off the bunch nestled among the other fruit. The lake was wide, fairly circular, and dotted here and there with watercraft. The section of shoreline that Bryan had chosen for their picnic was completely secluded, except for the bike track that led to it.
"This is really pretty," she said, trying to hide the sudden fit of nervousness that swept over her. She could feel her face redden when Bryan looked over at her.
"Yes, it is," he answered, his eyes never leaving her face. "Very pretty indeed! Beautiful, in fact!" He stared at her for a minute more, then turned his attention to the wine.
Bryan watched the slow flushing of her cheeks as she took in the full import of his words. Her brown eyes widened, and he couldn't stop the instant response of his body. He turned away, to stop himself from touching her.
"I come here a lot," he said, "when I'm stressed." He busied himself with the picnic things. "Care for a glass of wine, lass?" Carrie nodded, laughing, as he opened the bottle and poured her a glass. He could feel those wide brown eyes watching him pour the wine. He fought to keep his hands steady, and chuckled quietly at the urgency of his lust. He saw, swirling in the liquid in the glass, his body ravishing hers, her body taking him in. The sound of the wine being poured was the sound of her sighs, and his groans of pleasure. He inhaled deeply, and handed her a glass, resting the bottle gently against the tree.
"Are you stressed now?" she asked, accepting the glass with a smile.
His answering chuckle rolled around her, enveloping her in sensual warmth. She felt it on her shoulders, down her arms, in her belly.
"Here's to discovery," he said, instead of answering her question, and tipped his glass to hers.
"To discovery!" she echoed him, and sipped the wine, avoiding his hot gaze.
The air was sultry, the day pleasantly warm. Bryan let himself recall the other times they'd met. Their first meeting had been at a New Year's Eve Ball almost two years earlier. His family owned a large construction company in the state, and every year they hosted a big holiday ball at company headquarters for the workers and their families. She had been visiting her friends in the city, one of whom was a corporate attorney for the company, and she had gone to the party as his date. Bryan had seen her almost as soon as she had walked into the room, and his reaction had been immediate and telling. He smiled as he remembered how he followed her with his eyes everywhere she went that evening, and how he watched to see if there was anything real between her and Guy, the friend with whom she had come to the party.
When he saw that Guy was too busy chatting up Gail, Bryan's own sister, he'd made sure he was where she was when the countdown ended and it was the New Year. He'd made sure they were dancing, and he'd kissed her gently on the lips. A soft salute that, because he hadn't wanted to scare her, but he had still wanted her to know he was interested. He knew she got the message; he could read it in her eyes then, in the awareness she tried to hide but couldn't. Before she left with Guy, he had asked her out, and she'd agreed to meet him for lunch at a local eatery. "Hey! Where are you?" Her voice brought him sharply back to the present moment. She was looking quizzically at him above the rim of her wine glass.
"Oh, I was just reminiscing..." He let his voice trail off and looked at her. Her glass was still almost full.
"I thought you wanted wine," he said, indicating her glass.
"I thought I did, too!" She laughed. "Sorry!"
"No problem! Want a beer instead?"
"Sure," she answered, and then looked away toward the skier on the lake.
He relieved her of the glass, and replaced it with a cold beer. "Enjoy!"
She tipped the bottle up and took a long swallow. "Mmmmm! Cold!! Good!" She smiled at him, and then went back to watching the skier do turns on the lake.
He went back to daydreaming. The lunch date had been a disaster. He'd been late, and he'd been filthy. She took one look at him, in his work clothes, and he knew he had lost her. Whatever spark they had had at the party died as she eyed his muddy clothes. Even after he explained that he was only there to beg off, and ask for another date, because something had come up at work, and to get her phone number, she looked skeptical, and told him to call her at Guy's mom's place. She refused his offer of a ride to wherever she was going, and he had left in such a funk, his house mate had yelled at him and left for the evening.
Another smile curved his lips as he watched her sip the beer. Her lips around the mouth of the bottle were driving him crazy, as he imagined them around his hard rod -- yes, it was hard, and there didn't seem a damn thing he could do about it. Just thinking about her usually got him to sit up, and this being with her sent him directly to "Go!" Their next meeting, at Guy's parents' home, was better than their last, and the kiss he stole at the end of THAT evening together still made him tingle to think about it. She'd been caught off guard by him, as she was going back inside from taking a breather in the cool night air on the terrace. He'd followed her, and when she would have opened the screen door, he touched her hand.
"Hey! Pretty warm evening, isn't it?" he'd asked casually.
"Yes," she'd murmured in reply, "it is!"
When he hadn't moved his hand, she'd looked up at him with those big brown eyes and said, "Let me pass, please!"
"I'd like to think the spark we felt two weeks ago hasn't died," he'd said, and turned his hand so he was holding her wrist. She looked down at his hand, then up at his face, and when he took her other wrist, she didn't resist, but let him touch her mouth for the second time. He felt himself grow harder now as he recalled how he deepened the kiss, and when she still did not resist, he let go of her hands and held her shoulders, pulling her flush against his chest. She had relaxed -- he could feel it -- and opened her mouth to let his questing tongue inside its waiting warmth. Only the sound of footsteps coming up the steps from the garden stopped him from pulling her into his arms.
"Bryan," her voice brought him back again, "do you own a boat?"
