“Okay,” Derek said, walking back to me, looking so good, my heart skipped a beat or two. He’d changed into tight blue jeans and was wearing a fitted leather motorcycle jacket. “Here.” He handed me a black helmet with a dark visor and then started buttoning my jean jacket up. “I don’t want you to get cold,” he said, turning my collar up, too.
His sweet attention gave me a thrill.
He grabbed his helmet by the door and a set of keys. He was pumped, sexy as ever. “You ready?” he asked with a bold smile I’d rarely seen on his face. This Ducati of his sure worked magic on him.
Maybe it was time for me to meet this bike.
* * * *