A Ride to Remember (Biker Erotic Romance)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

A Ride to Remember copyright @ 2014 by Emily Stone. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

A Ride to Remember

CHAPTER ONE

Cecilia hated computers. It was a stupid thing to hate, something so important in modern times that you couldn't go across the street without seeing at least six iPhones or tablets in the grips of a mindless teenager.

Granted, her loathing of computers and technology in general was a different sort of hatred. She worked at a travel agency (a dying breed, that) whose hours were cut back again after the latest buyout by a fancy, nameless corporation intent on using websites to sell rather than people. So her anger was more directed at the lack of money in her wallet. She sighed, tugging at the lank red strands dusted across her face.

There were only three agents left on the job, and the owner of course.

No one wanted to have to leave their homes to set up a vacation. At least it was almost lunch, and she could take a break.

This wasn't her career by any means but it was paying the bills until Arroyo Hospice took up her application and set up an interview.

She'd taken night classes and community college classes to become a nurse practitioner. Only problem? No one was hiring. The economy was in decline, her less than sparkling patchwork degree was worthless, take your pick for the reasoning.

Cecilia was halfway to her own personal pity party when the bell above the door dinged and a looming figure darkened the pale light splaying through the opening.

She looked up automatically, words out of her mouth before she took in the customer.

“Welcome to Artie's Traveli--” The words caught in her throat, constricting. Emitting a surprised gasp, she dropped her hands to her sides and stared. The door clicked shut and the sound of a neck cracking filled the dingy room, the only conflicting sound a faint whir of her tiny fan.

Who waltzes in but the brawny, devious punk that ditched out on her ten years ago to“Find himself” in the deserts of Reno?

Ray Owens. Ex boyfriend and old friend, all wrapped up in sun-kissed skin and dusty leather.

Apparently he struck gold in Reno because damn, did he look fine strutting through the door, hips swaying, with all that lean muscle and toned arms. She'd almost forgotten how tall he was, having to duck under the lip of the entrance to avoid braining himself. The teenage girl in her heart melted at the sight, demanding to throw herself into his arms and never let go.

She shook herself.

I am Cecilia Boyd and I throw myself at no man
, she thought roughly.
Especially not the jackass who ditched me to ride bikes two states away.

Even as she thought the words, her heart skipped with every step he closed between them.

Still as handsome as ever. Even more so. Ray Owens really filled out over the past decade, trading scrawny arms for biceps as big as her head. Flames and tribal tattoos roped around the bulging flesh, and ink covered every inch from shoulder to wrist. His brown hair was combed maybe three days ago, loose waves sticking out at his nape and splayed across his cheeks.

That ridiculous smile of his spread across his mouth and Ray crossed the distance between them and pulled her right out of her chair into a bear hug.

“Cece,” He breathed, her feet dangling at least seven inches off the floor as he straightened and held her against his chest. For one paralyzing moment she lay motionless in his arms, shocked out of a reaction. But then grown-up Cecilia stomped in, kicked down the teenager swooning behind her lids, and her hand came up to smack Ray right across his scruffy mug.

The action didn't hurt him so much as surprise him. Ray held her apart, peering at her frown with confusion.

“Cece?” He said again, this time less certain. He held her by her waist, so she folded her arms over her chest and glared, ignoring the brush of heat across her cheeks.

“Don't Cece me, you brute. Put me down before I break your nose.” She grumbled. It would've come off a lot more badass if she could breathe with his meaty hands squeezing her ribcage. Ray obeyed instantly, carefully returning her to the ground and releasing her. He stepped back and straightened. Cece had to crane her neck to look up at him but even with the height disadvantage she fixed him with a menacing expression.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” The words slid off her tongue with surprising acid. She'd put away all of her hurt feelings at his leaving her behind even when she'd cried and begged but seeing him again brought it all crashing to the forefront of her thoughts. He'd made her feel weak and unworthy, even if it hadn't been his intent. She wasn't going to forgive and forget so easily.

“I came to see you,” Ray replied, smile back on his face as if he didn't see how royally pissed off she was. “I missed that pretty face of yours.” He placed a finger under her chin gently and she snapped her teeth, nearly taking it off.

“After ten years?” She glowered. “You up and vanish for a decade and then come strolling in as if nothing's changed? Dammit, Ray, I don't need this right now. Go away, I have things to do.” She whirled on her heel and stomped off to her desk, fingers gripping the back of the flimsy chair and swinging it around.

“Oh come on, you're not still pissed are you?” He asked, following like a big puppy as she perched on the edge of the seat, wary of his rising level of stupidity and the actions fueled by it.

“What was your first clue?” She snapped, typing furiously at her keyboard even though she'd finished with her reports that morning. He didn't need to know that, and he wasn't moving around the desk again--Thank god.

“I'm sorry about that,” He at least had the intelligence to look chagrined, fingers smoothing the resisting waves at his nape. “I should've called or left you a note or something.”

“Maybe you shouldn't have dipped out when things got complicated.” She replied carefully, keeping her eyes on the monitor.

“Look, I know nothing I say is going to change your mind about what happened,” Ray reached out and circled her wrist with warm fingers. She shivered, heart rate spiking, and glared at him to cover her reaction. “At least let me take you out for dinner tonight. Let me try to make up for it, just this once?”

His big blue eyes fixed her with their most piteous expression and once again she was flashed with the mental image of Ray as a giant puppy dog. A Doberman, maybe. Or a Rottweiler. Something big and fierce-looking but has the sweetest disposition under the growls. She sighed, lids drifting closed. She was going to regret this, but damned if his puppy eyes didn't get to her still.

“Fine. Pick me up at eight then. But if you're going to be late, don't come at all.” She pulled from his grip and he released her after a moment. Bending over her desk, she scribbled the address on a hot pink post-it note. Eyes lifting and fingers wrapped around the sticky paper, she smacked it right on his forehead with a satisfying clap.

“Now go away,” she repeated firmly, putting an extra bolt of annoyance in her tone. His stupid smile was back, blinding as ever. Ray stood, swept her a gallant bow--which looked hilarious at his height, paired with stained leather and hole-pocked blue jeans. If he'd had a bouquet in his hands she would have laughed outright at the picture he made.

she flicked her fingers dismissively, not letting him see the nerves jumbled up inside. He bounded out, long loping steps carrying him right through the entrance, sticky note still shining like a neon sign on his forehead.

Cecilia sighed. He'd always been a bit of a fool.

CHAPTER TWO

“Damn it all, why did I agree to it?” Cecilia cursed at her reflection. It was nearly eight and she was clad only in a pair of matching, lacy lingerie. She'd purchased the black bra and thong set on a whim a few months back, little roses etched with silky thread into the little triangle above her ass and red lace strung over the tops of her bra. She'd only managed to settle on underwear in the past hour.

“It's not like he's going to see them,” she grumbled to herself. “I refuse to give into that dumbass.” She strode back to her closet, tossing t-shirts and cut off shorts from their hooks. She wasn't sure if she should dress up or down, both would be an insult to what he pulled. But at the same time she wanted to see his jaw drop when she opened the door. Gritting her teeth, she tore her favorite black dress from its hanger and stepped into the flimsy fabric. Whisper-thin and nearly see through, it clung to her petite form like a second skin.

Stringy ties roped across her shoulders in helter-skelter lines and her back was bare near to the little triangle hovering over her ass. Dammit if she was going to see Ray she was going to make sure he was speechless and drooling.

Let him see what he gave up.

Just as she finished the last touches of liner to her eyes--less heavy on the colors and more emphasis on her already lovely features--the doorbell rang. She adjusted the dipping hem of her neckline and stuck her feet in shimmering black stilettos, their heels so thin she could probably skewer him with one kick.

Cecilia skipped to the door, took a deep breath, and tugged it open.

And blinked.

If she'd had the notion of dressing to blow him away, he'd decided leather and wet hair was the only retaliation.

And, hell, if any man can wear leather like Ray can, let them step up to the plate right now. The butter-smooth leather clung to his muscles lovingly, accentuating the hard lines of his thighs and the tightness of his... well, let's just say he wore them well.

Plain white shirt under the leather jacket, stretched over muscle as tight as his pants. If anyone else had tried wearing the look they'd come off as a grease reject, but Ray cut a fine figure. Even the damp curls at his neck, droplets sparkling like diamonds, had Cecilia's legs weakening. But she bit down on her tongue, drew all the strength of resistance she had, and focused it on clearing her expression of anything other than bored interest.

It was lucky she'd picked a dress barely touching her thighs, because Ray was still taking in her legs like a drowning man sucked for oxygen.

When his eyes rose up from her hips and tiny waist, lost in her bust for a good few moments, and met her gaze there was a hunger she hadn't seen in years.

Dark and burning straight through her outfit into the wet heat of her suddenly flushed skin. She shivered and smacked him in the chest with the small clutch tucked between her fingers.

“Stop drooling,” she stalked past him, taking the steps with a practiced grace of years in death-defying stilettos. “You promised me dinner, I'm hungry.”

Ray followed behind, and she had a feeling he wasn't watching the steps so much as the bounce of her ass. She smiled to herself. At the very least, she could stop him in his tracks. She considered bending over to “fix her heels” and then remembered she was still pissed off at the moron.

Reaching the sidewalk, she tapped her toes and folded her arms under her chest.

“Well?”

Ray's hands scrambled in his pockets, drawing out a pair of keys. Small, and one house key hanging from the end. Was that... no. Ray wasn't that stupid.

Of course he was.

“Your chariot milady.” He ushered toward the motorcycle leaning slightly to the right, supported by a tiny kickstand. Her heart was in her throat and she nearly beat him.

“You expect me to get on that thing wearing this?” She gestured to the slinky dress, sexy on land but painfully freezing mid-flight.

His slow grin sent fingers of ice crawling up her spine. “I've seen you ride in less.”

Cecilia's face went bright red and she was glad of the lack of street lamps at her apartment complex. She dug the nails of her free hand into her palm and exhaled slowly.

“Fine.” She gestured to the bike. “Get on, already. I'm right behind you.” The look on Ray's face said he was counting on that, and he swung a leg over the sleek machine, leaning on the handlebars with his chin in his hand. A silent beckoning. Cecilia drew herself to her fullest height, barely five-three, and moved to the side of the Harley, leg curling over one side and rucked up against Ray.
Ugh, bad choice in attire
. Her dress slid nearly up her ass and she tugged it discretely to at least cover her backside. Her front was another story altogether.

Scanty panties pressed into the smooth leather stretched over Ray's backside and she chewed her lip. This could get bad fast. But she was already on and Ray was a force to be reckoned with when he put his mind to it. Her arms curled around his middle, fingers laced and pooling low on his abdomen as he started up the beast. The engine growled and flared to life. Backing them up with quick steps, they shot off into the balmy spring night.