Fantasy Boyfriend (A Tattooed Bad Boy Romance) (5 page)

"Plenty of TLC, and it's still relatively
new."

A bike like that must have cost a fortune, I thought.
Maybe even as much as a car. Then again, he’d probably financed it. He stepped
to the rear of the bike and unlocked the latch that held the extra helmet in
place. He extended it to me and then reached his hand into the front breast
pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He extended
those to me as well. I slowly took both, eyeing the bike warily. I then glanced
back at him. "I've never been on a bike before."

"You'll love it," he assured.

"You'll go
slow
, won’t
you? I don't have any particular affinity for being splattered all over the
pavement because you're being a showoff."

He laughed and shook his head. "You know, the
more I get to know you, the more I like you." He paused a moment. "And
yes, I’ll go slow… I always take things slow, especially with women.”

My heart thumped again, not with fear this time, but
at the suggestion of his words, which implied more than the speed of his bike.

“Oh, by the way, allow me to properly introduce myself.
I'm Luke William Bradford, of Plymouth, Massachusetts." He extended a
hand, grin still evident.

I smiled and extended my hand. "Jessica Jay
Mallory, of Billings, Montana. Pleased to meet you, Mister Bradford."

He laughed and then gestured toward the bike.
"Let me get on first, and then you get on behind me, okay?”

"Okay," I said, watching as he swung a leg
over and straddled the bike. His thighs hugged the sides of the bike and for a
second, the image of him straddling me like that sent a shiver of excitement
through my body. I quickly shook the image out of my mind, surprised at myself.
I never had such wayward thoughts, at least not on a first date. I watched as
he settled himself onto the bike, pulled his black helmet with black face
shield onto his head and fasten it. He looked sexy as all get out. The helmet
turned toward me and he gestured with his head. I approached a motorcycle and
hesitantly straddled the back of the seat.

"Put your feet on the pedals," he instructed,
his voice slightly muffled through the helmet. He grasped my right ankle and
guided it onto the foot pedal. I glanced down to my left and did the same.

"Put on your helmet and strap it," came
next.

I put the helmet on and nervously fastened the strap
under my chin, making sure that the helmet was snug enough that it wouldn't
come flying off. Then I slid on the pair of sunglasses he had given me. Okay,
so no bugs in my eyes, but what about my mouth? Once that was done, I wasn't
quite sure what to do with my hands. He seemed to read my mind.

"Wrap your arms around my waist," he
directed.

He didn't wait for me to comply, but immediately
reached around for my hands, placed them around his waist, and laughed. I could
feel the rumble of his laughter as my breasts rested lightly against his back.

"Ready?"

I nodded, and then realizing he couldn't see me, I
muttered a yes. I realized that he still couldn't hear me, so I spoke up and
repeated it. My hands still wrapped around his waist, he pressed a small red
button near the right handle and the bike rumbled to life beneath me. It wasn't
as loud as I thought it would be, but I was startled by the vibration. My
heartbeat accelerated. I couldn't believe it. I was going riding who knows
where on the back of a motorcycle with a guy I barely knew. No, a guy that I
didn't know at all. Luke Bradford, that was about it. On one hand, I was
excited about the new adventure, as my girlfriends had said, but on the other,
I was terrified.

Just as I was about ready to chicken out and tell him
that I would meet him wherever he planned on taking me, he moved his left foot
and the bike surged forward. I uttered a squeaking sound, tightened my clasp
around his waist, and off we were.

"Relax!" he said, turning his head slightly
to the left and speaking to me over a shoulder.

"Watch the road!" I shouted back.

Soon, we were winding our way through the streets of
Boston. He didn't go super-fast, and I was grateful that we weren't out on the
open road but on city streets. Still, on a bike, without the security of metal
between me and the pavement or other vehicles, I felt extremely vulnerable.
After the first couple of minutes, however, I did start to relax. It was kind
of fun – thrilling actually. I felt the wind on my face, though grateful for
the sunglasses that kept any possible bugs out of my eyes. I actually began to
enjoy the ride. I kept my mouth closed, but did manage to loosen my grip around
his waist just a little bit. He had no fat, but was lean and all muscle. My thighs
hugged the side of the bike and his hips, much like I was riding a horse, which
I was used to doing.

The buildings passed by in a blur and the bike rumbled
beneath me as we passed cars, made several turns, and soon I instinctively got the
hang of leaning my body weight in the direction he was turning. It was a lot
like riding a horse, actually, and I found myself enjoying it immensely. Before
long, he pulled into a parking lot, found a space, and turned the bike into it.
Several moments later, the vibration stopped as he turned off the ignition.

"You get off first," he said.

I did, reaching my fingers up to unstrap the helmet as
I did so. He followed immediately after, doing the same. Holding the helmet in
one hand, his hair slightly mussed, he looked down at me with an expectant
expression.

"What do you think?"

I smiled. “That was fun. I was nervous at first,
because I've never written a motorcycle, but it's a lot like riding a horse,
just not as fast."

"I suppose where you came from, riding a horse
comes as naturally to you as walking."

I nodded. “That it does."

"Well, there you have it. This is your first time
riding a motorcycle. I've never ridden a horse, so you're one up on me."

He placed the motorcycle helmets onto the hooks
attached to the back of the seat and then locked them into place. Then, turning
to me, he clasped my hand. "Ever had sushi?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

Well," he grinned. "Isn't this quite the day
for firsts?"

He squeezed my hand as he led me toward the restaurant
entrance, and I reveled for a moment over the warmth and strength of that hand.
We walked into the restaurant, where he was greeted by a maître d' who appeared
to know him. He gestured us to walk down a short hallway, and I followed, only
to discover that he must have booked us a private room. The room wasn't
anything like I expected. A low table, like a coffee table with short legs,
rested on the floor in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by cushions. The
walls of the room were paneled and almost would look like rice paper, so I
gathered this was a traditional Japanese sushi bar. While I had never been in
one personally, Becky had, and what I was seeing now was typical, at least as
she described.

Luke gestured for me to take a seat on one of the
cushions. I did, sitting cross-legged across the table from him, eyeing
everything around me with interest. I was trying to remember every detail
because I knew I would have to give a blow-by-blow to the girls either later on
tonight or tomorrow, for sure. I was startled when a young woman entered the
room wearing a traditional Japanese kimono. She even wore white socks and
walked on what I could only call a pair of wooden slippers. I was even more
startled when Luke spoke to her in Japanese. I watched him, my eyes widening in
shock and surprise as he conversed easily with her, obviously placing an order
for our food. After he finished, she offered him a slight bow and left the
room. I continued to stare at him and he looked back at me and explained.

"I've been around a little bit," he said.
"Actually, I lived in Japan for a year or so."

"I'm no expert, but that sounded pretty fluent to
me," I said, impressed. "Do you speak any other languages?"

He nodded, flashing another smile at me from his place
across the table. He had removed his jacket and placed it on the floor beside
him. I wasn't sure about the material of his shirt, but it looked like silk or
rayon. Whatever it was it was black, long-sleeved, and flowed with every move
he made. Now instead of a motorcycle gang member, he looked like a pirate. It
was a good thing the sleeves covered his tats, because that might have just
pushed me over the edge.

"Russian, though I'm certainly not fluent, a bit
of German, and, if pressed, a little bit of Farsi."

I stared, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that
this guy, who dressed like a rebel and rode a Harley for crying out loud, but
took advanced chemistry, spoke several languages. Who the hell was he?
"Why?" He stared at me is if I had suddenly grown two heads.

"Why what?"

I shook my head. I was babbling like an idiot.
"Why…how do you know so many languages? Why did you travel around so
much?"

He waved a hand, as if dismissing the question.
"I had to go where my parents went, didn't I? At least until I was old
enough to go off to college."

"But what did your father do to take your family-"

My question was interrupted as the waitress, or
whatever they were called in a Japanese restaurant, entered the private room
bearing a tray full of sushi. She placed the tray on the table between us. I
glanced over it, admiring the attractive presentation, but wasn't quite sure if
I was going to enjoy eating raw fish. After asking if we needed anything else and
pouring us each a cup of tea, the server left the room.

"Have you ever had sushi before?"
 

He had asked me that already, but I shook my head no
while he pointed to several items on the platter.

"These roles are called Maki," he explained.
"They're wrapped in seaweed and filled with vinegary rice and a variety of
fillings. This one has crabmeat and cucumber.” He pointed to another. “This one
has soft shell crab, cucumber, avocado, and crabmeat topped with
Unagi
.”

He continued to point out items on the tray,
describing the difference between cone shaped offerings of what he called Maki
or hand rolls, and the different types of Maki on the platter.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

I wasn't sure about this, but I didn't want him to
think I was a big chicken, so I did.

"This one's called a Samurai role," he said.
"Take a bite."

Without opening my eyes I waited while he held one of
the roles underneath my nose, close to my mouth. Was he going to feed me? I
felt my stomach flutter again, but was distracted by a whiff of some wonderful
aromas.

“Open.”

I took a bite, amazed at the flavors that the role
evoked in my taste buds. I chewed, not too sure I liked the texture of the raw
components, but nodded in appreciation. The rice tasted tart, but not
unpleasantly so. "What was that one?"

"That one has tuna, cucumber, crabmeat topped
with salmon, avocado, and
Unagi
,” he explained.

I opened my eyes and watched him place several roles
of sushi on my plate. I tore my gaze away from his strong fingers and looked up
at him. “What's
Unagi
?”

"Did you like it?" he asked, smiling.

I nodded. “Yes, it was delicious, but what is
it?"

"Now don’t be alarmed, but
Unagi
is a Japanese word for a freshwater eel," he explained. “It's a common
ingredient in a variety of Japanese cooking, not just sushi.”

I felt a brief flash of horror. I was eating eel? Then
I realized that it had tasted good. We repeated the process several times, me
closing my eyes and him feeding me different rolls. I guessed at the
ingredients, only successful in naming a few that I recognized. We played this
game until roughly half the platter was gone. Finally, I felt so stuffed that I
didn't think I could eat one more bite. It was quiet in the restaurant, and I
wondered why, considering that it was a Saturday evening. Then again, a private
room meant privacy and quiet.

"Close your eyes."

I shook my head. "Luke, I honestly don't think I
can eat one more bite."

"Come on, one more time," he urged.

Although I wasn't sure what he was going to feed me
next, I did as he requested. I closed my eyes and waited. I heard him move the
tray and then our teacups. I waited, anticipating the aroma of some other
delicious concoction beneath my nose, and as soon as I sensed his hand near my
mouth, I opened my lips slightly, prepared to take a bite. But it wasn't sushi
that I tasted, but his lips. He was kissing me. With my eyes still closed, I
reveled in the kiss, taking my time to appreciate every sensation that his warm
lips brought me.

I groaned when his tongue slowly slipped inside my
mouth, feeling warm sensations surge through me. Suddenly, his arms were around
my shoulders and he was pulling me closer toward him. I opened my eyes and saw
that he was half leaning over the table, urging me to do the same. He had moved
the food and drinks from the table to the floor, and before I knew it, he was
half reclining on the table, pulling me on top of it beside him.