I slowed to a stop as I went through the security leading into the base, and then veered the bike off toward the single-story barracks I’d call home for the next few weeks. There was a seriously sick-looking ride already parked in a space near my room, and I pulled in beside it, glancing over at it as I cut the engine.
Damn, that was a sleek crotch rocket. A black Ducati 848 in pristine condition. After I slid off my bike and removed my helmet, I walked a circle around the hot ride.
You didn’t touch another man—or woman’s—bike, but damn if I didn’t want to run my hand over the glossy paint and then take it out on the freeway to see what it could do.
I was on my way back around the front of the wicked piece of machinery when I caught sight of a door being pulled open, and what do you know, Panther, of all people, stepped outside.
I wasn’t sure what it said about me, but when his eyes zeroed in on me standing next to what I now assumed was his bike, and a scowl crossed his face, my dick kicked inside my jeans.
Of course the bike belonged to him. Like the guy wasn’t sexy enough. Imagining him straddled over the back of this baby was enough to make my cock go from interested to rock fucking hard in an instant.
Panther stepped outside and eyed me where I stood. No pleasantries were exchanged, just a stare-off that I had to say was doing shit for dampening my desire to get closer to him.
The guy was just so intense, so serious all the time, and as he stepped down into the parking spot where I was standing and stopped in front of me, I couldn’t resist the urge to poke at him—since I was such a glutton for punishment.
“So, I see you do like something nice and thick between your legs on occasion. Good to know. I was starting to think you might’ve wandered into the wrong bar last night.”
Panther said nothing as he crossed his arms and stood his ground, his black t-shirt stretching nice and taut across the chest I’d been fantasizing about ever since I’d run into him last night.
“I mean, I was fairly certain you weren’t mistaken with the way you all but plastered me to the back wall of the place. But after today’s little game of denial, it’s nice to know I didn’t imagine the whole thing.”
Panther’s eyes narrowed, and when it was clear he wasn’t going to rise to the bait, I turned my attention back to his bike. “She’s a real beauty.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected from him then, maybe a “get the hell away from my bike,” but when Panther said, “What makes you think it’s a she?” I almost fell flat on my face.
I cocked my head to the side to make sure I’d heard him right. But just like before, there was no smug look on his face, no teasing smile on his lips. He stood there still as a fucking statue and just as remote, and if I hadn’t heard him with my own two ears, I would’ve thought I’d made it up to torment myself.
“So, you’re telling me this wicked-hot ride you straddle every day is a he?”
Panther ran his eyes down over me and then turned to stroke his fingers along the top of the tank. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?”
Panther glanced over his shoulder at me, and for a split second I saw the same glint in his eyes from last night, before he blinked and it was gone. “The fun is, it annoys you not to know.”
“Well, it’s not like you were super subtle about it.”
“Do you even know what the word subtle means?”
I shrugged and slipped my hands into my pockets. “Sure. I can be subtle.” I then aimed my eyes to where Panther’s jeans hugged his incredible ass. “I really like your jeans. The fit is just right.”
“That was being subtle?”
“Well, yeah, what I really wanted to say is your ass is one of the best I’ve ever fucking seen. See? Subtle.”
Panther stared at me and then shook his head. “You gonna do this the whole time we’re here?”
“I don’t see why not. I can’t imagine anything better than you coming along.” Then something occurred to me, and I looked over Panther’s shoulder to the room he’d left. “Is that your room or should I be jealous?”
Panther crossed his arms and smirked. “None of your business.”
“Oh, but see, it is,” I said, running my fingers along the seat of his bike. I didn’t feel bad about touching it when the owner was standing a foot away, though he was watching my moves like a hawk. “The room beside it is mine.”