Free All the Way by Kristi Avalon Page A

freeing with a few thousand pounds of metal stripped away, nothing between her and the natural beauty around her. She compared it to what it might be like in a space suit, weightless, viewing the world from a very different perspective. It was breathtaking.
    Easing her grip on Blake a little more, she tested the backrest he must have installed specifically for this trip, for her. It shocked her to admit she actually felt…almost…safe.
    Like she had a long time ago in a faded memory, like an old photograph, the surface crinkled, edges torn by heartache and loss. Kenny, will you take me riding today? If it’s sunny and dry can you pick me up from school on your Harley? Are we taking the motorcycle out to Madroo’s Farm for fresh corn this weekend?
    A chill shook her. Her fingers felt cold, tingly. The wind must be chafing her hands, she decided. Her fingertips drifted across the zippered seams of Blake’s coat pockets. They were open. She tucked her hands inside. Her hands curved against the flannel interiors, her fingers curling against his sides.
    The wind picked up around them as Blake accelerated.
    Eyes hidden behind platinum sunglasses, Blake slid his glance to the round side-mirrors that extended from the handlebars. He viewed Layla at his back.
    A crack formed in his hard-won resistance when her small hands curl into his pockets, against his sides. He steeled himself to ignore Layla’s intimate gesture of trust. Even though his insides were doing those cartwheels again.
    Hardening his jaw and his resolve, he tore his gaze away, focusing on the endless road ahead. He downshifted to gain momentum. The power of the vehicle under him responded to his command. Then he shot out of a traffic huddle, blazing a trail of his own.
    The adrenaline surge didn’t work. Old cravings surfaced. The need to touch her, feel her skin under his fingertips. His hands tangling in her hair, his tongue tangling with hers. He wanted more than her hands molded against him. He imagined her naked body curled into the protective shelter of his, lying together after making love, so intimate, so close. Never seemed to be close enough.
    A tremor ran through his hands. He had to tighten his grip on the handlebars to keep himself and the bike in control.
    He needed to get this woman out of his system.
    Only one way that would happen. But it would have to wait until tonight.
    After three hours on the road, Blake steered into a rest stop. They passed several picnic tables that sat beneath the shade of weeping willow trees. Guiding the bike diagonally into a parking space, he cut the engine.
    Layla, in the meantime, was having issues—she had no clue what to do about her startling… predicament .
    It began when she realized her foot had fallen asleep. When she tried to move, the tingling sensations swept up body, including the sensitive place between her legs. The relentless vibrations and her straddle position had become an erotic combination. She was so turned on she feared she’d collapse into orgasmic convulsions.
    A gasp slipped from her as Blake extricated himself from the motorcycle. She slid forward on the seat, the seam of her jeans riding deeper into the aching place that craved release. A surge of sensation funneled downward.
    “Oh, no,” she squeaked inside her helmet. She tore it off to gulp in air. Blake mumbled something and walked away.
    Not wanting to risk a mortifying public display, Layla moved toward the common building like an elderly lady who’d lost her walker. The friction of her legs as she walked, the heat rising off the pavement in shimmering waves, hour after hour of body contact with a man she’d once been insanely attracted to—and obviously still was—sent her mind spinning into dangerous fantasies. The throbbing between her thighs intensified.
    A blast of air-conditioning hit her as she stepped through the rest stop doors. It cooled the beads of perspiration on her forehead, but did nothing to chill the heat