Sexual Healing for Three (6 page)

exceptionally lightweight, but definitely padded and solidly stitched.

How could she have known?

Admittedly, he should have warned her, but he figured he could coax her to the wild side, and he always carried extra gear, just in case.

Chance pulled off his full-face helmet to get a better look, and seeing her so dressed-down was worth all the trouble he had gone through tonight before finally settling on his own outfit of jeans and
Sexual Healing for Three

43

T-shirt. Watching the look on her face as she took in his bike, however, was worth everything he had ever sunk into the machine customizing the machine.

“You look shocked,” he said.

“No more than you.”

“I guess I’m not used to seeing you outside of your corporate gear.” Not that the jeans and motorcycle boots didn’t do her justice.

Damn, did they, in a big way, the snug denim accentuating her lush female curves in a way that made his own jeans just a little snugger around his crotch, the scuffed black boots making her look just this side of untamed.

“And who knew there was the heart of a bad boy beating beneath the lab coat?”

“You expected me to pull up in a sedate sedan or something?”

“I’m not sure what I expected. I’m sure I didn’t expect an ER

doctor to indulge in…”

“A donor cycle?”

Donna chuckled, closing the distance between them and running her fingers along the shiny red body of the motorcycle. “I like the skin,” she said, using motorcycle slang to refer to his vehicle’s paint job.

Her look of awe wasn’t that of an uninitiated novice either, but that of someone who knew exactly what was poised between Chance’s legs and envied his good taste.

From her jacket, boots, and language, Chance already suspected he wasn’t dealing with a neophyte, but decided to test her anyway.

“Know a little something about bikes, do you?”

“Hmm, enough.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded. “For instance, you’re sitting on the new Kawasaki Versys.” She glanced at him before ogling the bike again. “649cc parallel twin, neutral handling, and light steering chassis of the Ninja 44

Gracie C. McKeever

650R sportbike. I considered this one before I finally settled on the KLR 650.”

Chance’s eyebrows shot up. “So the jacket and boots aren’t just a fashion statement. You really are a biker chick.”

“Oh yeah.” Donna licked her lips and smiled. “But I do love my leather too. And the boots I collect. Kind of a hobby, or an obsession depending on your point of view.”

He really was infatuated with Superwoman! Or make that Catwoman, he corrected, picturing Donna in the requisite skintight leather jumpsuit.

Chance’s cock twitched as she circled the bike, fondling the seat first, then a sleeve of his padded leather jacket before she settled a hand on his shoulder.

Was it the bike and leather that made her flirtatious, or was she just showing him another side of the chameleon he knew lived within her, beneath all that armor and pain? Whatever the answer, he didn’t care, was only glad that she had come out to play.

“So, you’re not going to have any problems riding with me then?”

Can you give up control for one night, baby?

Donna frowned, and for a moment he wondered if he had slipped and said the last out loud until she grinned and murmured, “I think I can handle it, if you’ve got an extra skid lid.”

“Never let it be said I come unprepared.” He slipped off his backpack, unzipped it, removed an extra helmet, and handed it to her.

“I can’t have a
squid
riding with me,” he teased, using the biker’s term for someone inexperienced, reckless, and who didn’t wear the proper gear.

Donna took the helmet and slid it on, strapping it under her chin.

She zipped up her jacket, shrugged on the backpack he handed her as she moved behind him, and threw her leg over to straddle the bike.

“I can tell you’re not used to the bitch seat. Move closer, and hold tight.”

Sexual Healing for Three

45

She laughed and playfully punched his shoulder before leaning close and sliding her arms around his waist to comply.

He gasped at the contact, the gentle press of her breasts against his back sending his dick throbbing hard inside his jeans. He almost wished she hadn’t complied so readily and wondered how he was going to survive her proximity without losing control of himself or his vehicle.

“I can feel your heart pounding,” she whispered.

He could feel hers too, even through all their leather, which let him know he wasn’t alone in his excitement. Now whether hers was centered on the machine or the man nestled between her legs was the question.

As if in answer, Donna adjusted her weight and squeezed her thighs around his as Chance put on his helmet and keyed the bike’s ignition. He felt more than heard Donna’s purr against his neck as the engine roared to life beneath them.

“God, I love this power!” She tightened her arms around his waist.

And Christ did she own it, him and the bike at her mercy for the next hour and a half on their way to Long Island.

* * * *

Donna didn’t know what came over her, why she had been so touchy-feely with Chance
before
she even got on the bike behind him.

She made it a point to keep her distance with colleagues. It was bad enough she crossed the line with her clients, getting all touchy-feely, especially with the kids, becoming emotionally involved when she needed to be professional and coolly detached. Dedication and passion were essential in her position, but crossing the boundary and letting her clients’ problems consume her and become her problems was
not
how to handle business. She knew better.

But she guessed that was what happened when she had no other outlet in which to pour her pent-up energy. Sex would have been a 46

Gracie C. McKeever

nice release, but she had been on a pretty lengthy and unintentional sabbatical, not counting B-O-B of course. Without him, she’d be a raving lunatic.

Riding behind Chance on his bike now brought this fact to her in glaring clarity, making her wonder which was better to have between her legs—the power of a real, live, lustful man or that of a revved-up machine that went from zero to seventy in no time flat.

Really there was no contest. Donna decided, given the choice, she would take the man every time. As much as she loved the freedom and pleasure riding her bike afforded, the experience didn’t come near riding the heated, hard flesh of a man. She realized she sublimated every time she flung one leg over the seat to straddle her bike and brought the engine to life. And B-O-B was the
ultimate
form of sublimation—quick, heated orgasms with no attachments, no commitments, no promises to make or break.

Was that what she really wanted? Was it enough? Angela would have given her a resounding
no
to both questions. And if the mere ride on the back of a motorcycle with a hot, sexy man got her juices to overflowing, then evidently B-O-B and her five fingers of pleasure weren’t enough or what she really wanted.

Donna tried to distance herself from the situation, kept telling herself this was just a date and it didn’t matter that Chance felt so good pressed against her, the firm muscles of his back apparent even beneath the jacket and turning her on with the thought of them uncovered and beneath her fingers.

Donna subtly squeezed her thighs against the wetness seeping from her pussy, but was sure Chance felt the maneuver, especially when his thigh muscles flexed against hers—such a delicate erotic dance they performed. She bit her bottom lip and stopped just short of moaning as she leaned into his body when he headed toward the turnoff to Wantagh.

Had they been on the road that long? She’d barely had time to entertain the idea of him and her naked and rolling around together
Sexual Healing for Three

47

between the sheets. And she supposed this was a good thing, that she hadn’t gotten down-and-dirty-deep into her Chance fantasy. In her position at Safe Haven, she’d eventually have to come into contact with this man at Belfiore again, and it was already difficult enough seeing him face-to-face without picturing him naked. After this little joyride to Angela’s, it would be near impossible.

But oh, she couldn’t help dreaming. Chance’s body was a veritable wonderland of unrealized hopes and promises, hard and lean muscles in all the right places, each of which she wanted to explore in all the wrong ways.

Chance downshifted, slowed to a stop, and idled the engine when they reached a fork in the road. “Which way from here to your sister’s?”

“Make the left turn, and it’s several houses down on your left.

You won’t be able to miss it. Look for the house with the stone lions out front.”

“Like the New York Library?”

“That’s my sister, Patience and Fortitude.” She tried to say it with as little sarcasm as she could but wasn’t sure she had succeeded, especially when Chance laughed before revving the engine and shooting forward. Instead of focusing on Angela’s bossy but lovable personality and matchmaking, Donna concentrated on how good Chance felt against her, how good the engine felt vibrating beneath her ass.

Too soon, the moment was over, and Chance pulled up in front of Angela and Freddie’s house, parked, and cut the engine.

He took off his helmet and let Donna climb off the bike before doing the same. He stood on the sidewalk, fists on hips, and gazed at his surroundings.

“Nice house.”

“This is just the outside. It’s even better inside.” She couldn’t help boasting. As much as she and Angela butted heads, she admired her 48

Gracie C. McKeever

older sister, especially the way she made her house a home, warm and welcoming to everyone, even her sourpuss sister.

Donna chuckled at the thought and wondered when her sister would give up on her and just call it a day. But that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. As committed and stubborn as Donna was, Angela was ten times more so, especially when it came to hooking up her siblings.

Hell, the woman was batting a thousand with their other brothers and sisters. She probably figured she was on a roll and no way could she give up on Donna, no matter that she was a hard-boiled man-eater and protested too much.

She took a deep breath, sidled behind Chance, and grasped his hand. She knew it was a bad habit, but she liked touching him. She twined her fingers through his, drawn by the warmth of his skin like a pyromaniac to her own arson job.

Chance turned to her and smiled. “Are you nervous?”

“Why would you ask that?”

He shrugged and chucked her under the chin. “I
am
a bad boy, after all. Never know what kind of impression I’ll make on the family.”

For some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, Donna had a feeling that Angela would approve of Chance Novak, that the two of them would connect. Maybe it was his profession and gentle nature.

Maybe it was the crystal pendant he wore, a small piece of jewelry that bespoke a spirituality and faith in common with Angela that Donna could never begin to appreciate.

As for the rest of her family? Where Angela went, the others usually followed, especially in this cause, and that was to see their last sibling happily married.

Dream on, gang.

She tugged Chance’s hand and led him up the walkway toward the front door. “Time to face the firing squad.”

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.”

Sexual Healing for Three

49

Donna turned to him, saw the longing in his brandy eyes, and again was struck with the feeling that she didn’t know nearly enough about him.

Did he have brothers and sisters? Or did he long for siblings when others longed to be only children? What about his parents?

Whoa, slow down girl. That’s personal stuff, second, maybe even
third date conversation territory. We’re not going there—not tonight,
not ever.

But the curiosity was there. She couldn’t deny it. And it instantly grew the moment a black Ford Explorer screeched to a stop behind Chance’s bike and the driver shouted, “Chancellor!” through the open window before jumping out of the SUV, slamming the door, and purposely making his way toward a scowling Chance.

* * * *

What the hell was Russ doing
here
?

Shit. Chance wasn’t ready for this, not in the least.

It had taken him months to build up the nerve to call his brother’s house earlier as a preface to a visit. He’d planned to drop by after the barbecue, had even contemplated dragging Donna with him depending on how things went, kind of a trial by fire for both of them.

“Hey, Ru—
oomph
.” Air escaped his lungs as his brother wrapped Chance in a bear hug, Russ’s familiar, musky-clean scent wafting to Chance’s nostrils and immediately transporting him back to their childhood.

So many times he’d been enfolded in his brother’s embrace after some bigger boys had jumped Chance at school or in the neighborhood. And more times than not, Russ went after them, putting them in their place and making sure those bullies knew the score—mess with Chance Novak, and you mess with Russ Merrick.

Next came the self-defense lessons, something Chance remembered to this day with a mixture of distaste and fondness.

50

Gracie C. McKeever

He didn’t believe in fighting to solve an issue, except maybe as a last resort, and even then he tried to avoid it. Russ never really had to use his fists because he’d just always looked and handled himself like someone no one wanted to mess with. But this didn’t stop Russ from teaching Chance what he needed to know to keep bullies off of him when Russ wasn’t around, which was rare.

Russ pulled away slightly to grasp Chance’s shoulders as he peered at him. “Damn, I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Russ.”

“So, where have you been? What have you been up to? And what the hell are you doing back in New York without telling me you were here?”

“I called—”