Free Meet Your Mate (A Good Riders Romance Book 1) by Jacie Floyd Page B

him to take off. Following his
advice, she kept her eyes wide open and her head up.
    The scenery flew by in a blur. Colors
and shapes zipped past in a flowing kaleidoscope. Gradually, her body and her
vision adjusted to the unaccustomed motion and velocity. The sensation of
freedom and daring, of racing the world and winning, reminded her of the
champagne from the night before, fizzy and fun and going straight to her head.
    At least she enjoyed it until they
passed from the structured residential streets onto the terrifying rush of
I-275. SUVs and minivans the size of tanks sped past them and brushed close
beside them. Annabel’s vulnerability increased, and she cowered behind Max—the
only stable object in an unsteady universe.
    Pressing her chest against the
strong column of his back, she clasped her arms in a bear hug around his middle
and wedged his hips between the V of her thighs. Somehow the idea of fusing
herself to his comforting bulk provided her with a feeling of safety.
    An eighteen-wheeler barreled
alongside and spewed exhaust and gravel in their direction while sucking the
air around them like a giant vacuum cleaner. Too bad her clothing choices
hadn’t included something more practical for motorcycle riding than faded
denim—like a suit of armor.
    Just before she lost all control
and succumbed to screaming hysterics, Max took the Ellis Road exit toward Riverbend Music Center and the Ohio River. Off the highway,
the air blasting past her became fresher, cleaner, and lighter. After a couple
more turns off of smooth pavement onto bumpy byroads, lush green countryside
enveloped them in a simpler world. One filled with nothing more than dappled
sunlight, a powerful engine, and an incredibly sexy man creating a decided hum
of awareness between her thighs.
    Raising her head, Annabel relished
the unforeseen pleasure of traveling unencumbered through time and space. Why
had she resisted? She’d been wrong, and she would admit it when they stopped.
If they ever stopped. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to. At least not while she
had this little sensual buzz building. Feel the noise, indeed.
    Before the buzz took her where she
wanted to go, the Harley began to slow. She leaned into another turn, and the
gravel road ratcheted her sexual pleasure up a notch. But looking up ahead, she
couldn’t believe her eyes. Through her near orgasmic gaze, she blinked and
looked again.
    Under a banner that read “Good
Riders - Ride a Bike, Feed a Tyke,” Harleys, Harleys, and more Harleys filled
the parking lot of The Hog Heaven Bar and Grill. Each machine carried a biker
more disreputable looking than the next. She wondered at the number of cows
killed to produce so much black leather. When Max said they were meeting his
bike club, she’d pictured a gang of ten or twenty, not a legion.
    As they reached the fringe of the
group, men gestured and called out greetings to Max. As he had predicted
Annabel couldn’t hear a thing, but he nodded and waved. Slowing the bike to a
crawl, he threaded it through the gathering.
    At the bar’s rambling porch, he
pulled into an empty space. A tall, wiry-looking guy in chaps, plaid shirt and
leather vest leaned against a beam. Despite world-weary eyes and lines on his
face that told of a life lived hard, he carried an undeniable aura of
authority. A blue bandana covered most of his red hair peppered with gray. In
the goatee he stroked, the gray strands outnumbered the red. He waited for Max
to shut off his bike. Annabel wanted to whimper when the engine finally quit
pulsating.
    “Glad you could make it,” Goatee
Man said to Max.
    Or so Annabel guessed. With the
residual ringing in her ears, she had to rely on lip-reading more than hearing.
    The man handed an envelope to Max.
He stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans, millimeters away from grazing
Annabel’s most personal place with those long-ranging fingers. The thought
should be horrifying, instead of making her dizzy with longing.
    She