What the hell was I thinking? I was about to let this total stranger make me cum on the train? Holy shit.
My face flaming, I jump from the bike, looking around frantically. This is so not me. I must have just gotten carried away after hearing about Adrienne’s crazy antics.
With one last look at that ruggedly gorgeous face that’s now twisted in confusion, I bolt, so glad that I live in a city of millions of people where I will certainly never see any of the people on this train again.
Blaze
Walking around the bike show, I laugh and joke with people, trying to focus on doing my job of networking. But it’s really fucking hard when all I can think about is Ginger and her tight little body pressed up against me on the train last night.
She left me staring after her in shock, the look of panic on her face confusing me after the brazen way she’d acted just moments before.
My eyes scan the crowd as I talk to one of the show sponsors, barely paying attention to what he’s saying. Something about partnering for an ad campaign later in the year. I know I should be listening—that’s what I’m here for, to network and grow my bike brand—but I can’t help hoping I’ll see her here.
I know it’s a long shot. I mean, what are the chances of her being at the show? But I could tell that girl had a thing for bikes. The way she climbed on board and hugged the body of my bike? It definitely wasn’t her first ride.
I grin at the memory of trading innuendos with her. Then get hard all over again as I recall just how fucking sexy she was grinding against me, her pussy so wet when I ran my fingers over her lacy panties.
Gritting my teeth, I try to tamp down the desire coursing through my body and zero in on this dude who is spouting something about commercials and television and some other shit.
But it doesn’t last long when I see a flash of bright red hair about fifty feet away.
“Excuse me,” I say to the guy, clapping him on the back and not even looking at him as I start to walk away. “I’ll have my people get back to you.”
I should be more concerned that I leave him gaping after me, but I’m not. All I can focus on is covering the distance between me and the sexy redhead that I’m now sure is Ginger.
Long legs, spike-heeled boots, short leather skirt? Hell fucking yeah.
Her back is to me, but I know it’s her. That throaty laugh would be a dead giveaway if that body wasn’t enough. I feel it go straight through me, inciting some kind of primitive lust to claim her that I can’t begin to understand.
All I can think is it must be leftover sexual frustration from last night. But that doesn’t explain why she’s been on my mind for every second of the past twelve hours.
“I’m so glad it’s everything you expected,” she’s saying to a couple of men she’s talking to, one a douche in a suit, the other a burly biker with a beard to his waist who looks like he’s straight out of an old-school biker gang. One-hundred-percent accurate descriptions because I know these jokers personally.
“R
ed,” I say smoothly, sidling up next to her and slinging my arm around her shoulders, “what are you doing hanging out with these assholes?”
Ginger turns to me, her eyes huge, while the suit grimaces.
“Blaze,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”
I grin but don’t look at him. “I don’t know, Alex. Maybe because you’re only here because of me.”
Letting my fingers trail over Ginger’s smooth skin, I wink at her. “When you’re done over here, why don’t you come with me?”
Alex holds a card out to Ginger, drawing her attention away from me—which pisses me the fuck off—and says, “Think about what I said. I think you’d be a good fit.”
She smiles at him, like a real deal kind of smile, and I grit my teeth. I don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, but he is not a guy she needs to be talking to. I know that much.
I pull her away, her hand clasped in mine, and drag her around a corner to a little alcove that leads to some offices. When I stop and turn her around, pushing her back up against the wall, caging between my arms, her eyes cloud with that same mix of confusion and desire that seems to undo me.
“What are you doing here?” she says.
I laugh. “At a bike show? That should be fairly obvious.”
She bites her lip. “Looking for a replacement?”
“Something like that.”