He’ll pin me down, rip my clothes off, and have his way with me. He’ll unleash the animal inside him and devour me.
My legs shake and a crazy part of me yearns to actually run and hide. Run and be chased.
I internally drive the idea out of my foggy brain. Just what the hell is wrong with me?
Head trauma.
That’s the only explanation. I must’ve hit my head when he shoved me to the ground that night. That explains all the craziness I’ve been thinking about since then.
Or the last words he said to me.
Come back when you’re ready to be fucked properly.
A sling of heat ripples through me and I force those thoughts away.
Jeremy doesn’t break eye contact, his soulless eyes singlehandedly attempting to barge into my soul.
Looking at his face for even a few seconds is the most draining thing I’ve ever done.
He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even blink. Just stares.
I break eye contact first and climb onto the bike.
I try to, anyway.
The thing is huge and I’m not used to it. My foot slips and I grab onto his leather jacket at the last second.
Jeremy clutches my elbow, the same elbow that he held on to for dear life earlier, then jerks me behind him in one go.
“That’s what I thought.” He speaks with a mocking edge, as if he wouldn’t expect anything less from me.
Before I can respond, his bigger hand envelops mine and then plants my palm on his lower abs. My arm is all wrapped around his hard, sculpted waist and my fingers tremble slightly over his jacket.
“Hold on.”
“I can grab the back of the bike.” Or his shoulders. Why the hell is he making me touch him?
A slight twitch of his lips is all the answer he offers as he revs the bike forward.
My whole body vibrates from the force of the engine and my breasts glue to his back.
His rigid, muscular back.
I wrap my other hand around his waist, feeling like I’ll fall off if I don’t.
The power of the bike is nothing less than that of being on a roller coaster.
My fingers dig into his jacket, his T-shirt, anywhere I’m sure he won’t throw me off for fun.
The vibration of the engine shakes my whole body as he speeds down the streets. It’s like he’s in a competition against the wind. Due to which I might fall off on my arse.
The trees, streets, and people blur in my peripheral vision, or maybe I’m just about to black out.
These high-adrenaline activities are just not for me.
How the hell does he manage to remain calm through it? Is he a damn unfeeling robot?
I’m on the verge of a panic attack and he just navigates the streets as if they’re his kingdom. It doesn’t help that my body is all glued to his.