Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (12 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Brooke

I stared at the motorcycle with a strange cocktail of
fear, excitement, and anxiety. “I've never actually been on a motorcycle
before,” I confessed somewhat sheepishly.

He smiled. “No need to worry. I promise I'll take it
easy.”

“You'd better. Adrenaline rushes are not my friend.”

He laughed, but there was a little sympathy in his
eyes.

“Thrill seeking isn't for everyone,” he said. “And,
there's nothing wrong with that. I know extreme sports and crazy activities are
seen as the cool thing to do these days, but everyone should just do what they
enjoy, rather than being into something for the sake of putting out some fake
image that they think others will like. Just be yourself. If people don’t like
you…their loss.”

I nodded in response. It was a surprisingly insightful
opinion that I definitely hadn’t expected from Emerson. Truth was, I felt a
little ashamed of myself for being surprised. It was possible I'd been a little
too hasty to judge him based on superficial factors. “That's a refreshing
perspective,” I added.

There was a hint of shyness in the way he smiled back
at me. It felt as though I was seeing a side of him that he hardly ever
revealed to anyone. Then again, I have been known to be wrong.

“You ready to get going?” he asked, looking as if he
suddenly felt a little embarrassed and just wanted to change the subject.

I took a deep breath and gave the sleek bike a long
glance. “As ready as I’m going to get.”

He handed me the spare helmet that had been strapped
down to the back, which I immediately put on and secured tightly. Wearing it
had a claustrophobic quality until I opened the visor and let some air in.
Emerson climbed onto the motorcycle and started it up. Being right next to it,
the sound was more intense than hearing it from the sidewalk at the apartments.
And when he revved it, it roared. While this made me feel a bit more nervous,
it also excited me. I wasn’t entirely sure if I found the rumble of the bike
sexy or the man straddling it.

“Get on,” he prompted.

I climbed gingerly onto the back. The passenger seat
was higher than the driver's seat. Emerson was hunched over the body of the
motorcycle while I felt as if I was perched on the highest point, floating
around in the wind.

“Uh, where should I hold on?” I asked, my voice
muffled inside the helmet.

“Just lean forward, wrap your arms around my waist,”
he said.

This was going to be interesting. “Alright.”

I slanted forward and slid my arms around him. Warmth
flooded my cheeks and I was certain they glowed bright red as my hands fumbled
awkwardly around Emerson's midsection. Thankfully, I was behind him and he wasn’t
looking at my face.

I couldn't believe how solid his stomach was — pure
steel, not an ounce of fat to be felt anywhere.
Damn
. The image of him answering his door clad in nothing but a
towel flashed through my mind. I had tried to suppress that image. But at the
moment, all I could think of was how much he had looked like a Greek god.

“You okay back there?”

I locked my hands together instead of pressing them
against his hard abs. That would have just been a little more than I could
take.

“Um, yeah,” I replied, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on
the discomfort in my voice.

“Okay,” he said as he clicked the bike into gear.
“Like I promised, I'm gonna take it easy. But there will still be some surges
in acceleration when I'm driving. This machine has a sensitive throttle. She
can boost forward like a rocket with just the slightest input. So hold on
tight, alright?”

“Like you have to remind me.” With that, he took off.

Even though I could tell he was riding slowly, a rush
of fear coursed through my veins. Being on a motorcycle was so different from
being in a car. Night and day different. But as we got up to speed and the wind
started to rip past us, a boost of excitement replaced the fear firing through
my veins. It made being in a car seem like a bland, everyday chore. I'd always
thought of it as a cliché before, but I suddenly understood what bikers meant
when they talked about freedom.

With my arms wrapped around Emerson's body, I felt an
intense sense of attraction as he controlled the raging beast on which we were
perched, whipping in and out of traffic. The magnetism was almost primal.

A traffic light turned red ahead of us and Emerson hit
the brakes, causing me to slide forward on the seat. My body came to rest
pressed firmly against his.

I wondered if he could feel my breasts pressing into
his back and if it stirred anything in him. I certainly couldn't deny feeling
more than a little aroused by it. He turned his head to the side and flipped up
his visor to speak to me.

“You alright back there?” he asked.

I mirrored his action with my own visor to reply.
“Great!”

“You're not scared? No rollercoaster flashbacks?”

“Nope! I'm actually enjoying this!”

“Awesome.”

A flicker of a smile played on his lips before he
tapped his visor back into place. Two seconds later, the light turned green and
we took off again. I could sense the machine had so much more to offer than
Emerson was allowing. I almost yelled over the engine for him to open the
throttle and gas it, but there were still a few butterflies fluttering around
in my stomach, no matter how much I was enjoying the ride.

After fifteen minutes of the wind racing by, we
arrived at what I assumed was our destination — a hole in the wall that had a
warm and inviting feel. It might have been small, but it looked classy from the
outside. Emerson maneuvered the bike into a parking spot and killed the engine,
and I released my arms from around his waist, a little disappointed that I had
to let go. He booted out the kickstand and dismounted the bike then helped me
off. It was a gentlemanly thing to do, and I couldn't help being a little
impressed.

I removed my helmet and beamed a broad smile at him. I
could tell he appreciated it.

“That was so cool!” I exclaimed. “Wow! I totally
get
bikers now! Well, okay, maybe not
totally…
but
I can really see the appeal.”

He chuckled. It was a really sweet laugh.

“Yeah, it's great, right? I've been riding motorcycles
since I was a little kid. My dad was into dirt bikes and motocross. He got me
my first dirt bike when I was six. I've been hooked on bikes since.”

“Have you ever had any bad accidents?”

“I've had plenty of spills in the dirt, yeah, but
that's to be expected when you’re riding off-road. I had a pretty bad spill in
a race when I was twelve. Broke my collarbone and my left wrist.”

“That didn't make you want to give up riding?”

“Hell no! I know guys who have broken both legs and
been stuck in wheelchairs for six months. Guess what they did as soon as they
were out of the wheelchair?”

“Get back on the bike so they could break their legs
again?” I replied with a smirk.

“You got it.”

“So guys are all nuts, huh?”

“When the biking bug bites, it's generally a lifetime
infection.”

“But it's so dangerous, Emerson. Seriously.”

“What's life without a little danger, a little
excitement? I mean, I could play it safe, never take any risks, and still get
hit by a drunk driver while walking on the sidewalk one night.”

My eyes widened. “That’s a little extreme,” I said.

“That actually happened to a guy I know. Now he's a
quadriplegic. He was one of those
by the
book
types. Was crazy obsessed with his health. Never smoked, never drank,
never partied, worked out six days a week. I mean, this guy was even vegan,
didn't want any animal products in his body because he said they cause cancer.
Then one night, he took a walk down the street to buy a newspaper, and as he
was walking out of the Kwik Stop, a drunk driver lost control of his car,
skidded across the intersection, and plowed him over. He was in a coma for
three months and now he's in a wheelchair. And, this was a guy who took zero
risks. Now he doesn’t have the option to take a risk.”

I nodded. I couldn't really argue that point. But I
wasn’t so sure I completely agreed, either. “I understand what you’re saying,
but still there are risks and then there are
risks
,” I said. “Sure, bad
luck sometimes strikes no matter what you do, but riding a motorcycle increases
the risk factor exponentially.”

Emerson shrugged. “If something happens, it happens.
It's better to live life fully without regrets and have something bad happen
than to creep through life in a state of constant worry and fear and
still
have
something bad happen to you because it was fated to happen.”

“You believe in fate?”

“Yeah. I do, actually.”

“Like in those
Final Destination
movies?” I
joked with a grin.

He laughed. “Man, I used to love those when I was a
kid! Are they still making them? I mean, they must be up to like
Final
Destination 12
or
13
now if they are!”

I chuckled. “I think they stopped on number five or
six.”

“Oh, you don't know how much Hollywood loves horror
sequels. They'll milk it until it literally can’t be milked for another drop.”

“I think they may have reached that point in number
five. It was awful,” I replied.

“Nope. It can always get lower. Always. I mean, didn't
you see that
South Park
episode where James Cameron took a submarine
into the deepest trench in the ocean to find out how far the bar has been
lowered?”

A grin broke out over my face. “I did not. I don't
watch
South Park
. It's
so
crude, come on. Do you really think
that sort of stuff is funny?”

Emerson shot me a mischievous grin. “It's hilarious,
Brooke! C'mon, you shouldn't just write it off like that without giving it a
chance. It's actually pretty awesome social commentary.”

I couldn’t believe he’d just said “social commentary.”
I wasn't expecting that from a guy like Emerson. A guy who admitted to doing
awful in school the previous semester. A guy who rode a motorcycle, partied,
and spent more time in the gym than one guy probably should. I didn’t expect
it, but I had to say it was stimulating to hear it. The more he showed me this
side of him, the more attracted to him I found myself.

“Social commentary, huh? Alright, alright, maybe I
shouldn't be so quick to judge. Maybe I should give it a chance.”

“I've got every season on my hard drive. I'll lend 'em
to you.”

“You're that big of a fan, are you?” I gasped with
mock surprise.

“Yes, I am! How did we get onto this topic again,
anyway?”

“Uh, fate. We were talking about fate. Then
Final
Destination
, and then-”

“Oh, right. Yeah, got it. Well, like I was saying, I
do believe in fate. Destiny. If something is meant to happen, it happens.”

I wanted to ask, “
So
you believe if two people are supposed to meet, they will?
” But I didn't. I
didn't want to be too suggestive of anything at the moment, and I suddenly
realized I had been letting my defenses down with Emerson, something I had
explicitly set out to
not
do. Things
were starting to get a little dangerous and I began to question my decision to
come out to eat with him. I rarely made impulsive decisions, so what had
prompted me to agree to dinner?

I needed to back off a little, to cool things down
because they definitely seemed to be heating up. Of course, I could not back
out of dinner. We were already at the restaurant, and it would have been a
bitchy thing to have made up an excuse and asked that he take me home. So for
the rest of the evening, I'd just have to keep my guard up and make a conscious
effort to keep some distance between us. I couldn’t keep letting myself get
drawn too deeply into conversation with him. I couldn’t let myself fall for his
charm — charm that he certainly had. I couldn’t allow that suggestive glimmer
in his eyes or the curve of his heart stopping smile get to me. Whatever attraction
I was feeling to him, it seemed pretty certain he was feeling for me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at ease
chatting with a guy. It felt like forever, to be honest. Granted, I’d had some
good chats with Garrett from class, but nothing that felt quite as comfortable
and easy as how Emerson and I had suddenly been chatting. It was just natural,
and that’s what had me concerned. I had to wonder what exactly was happening.

Everything that I had hoped
wouldn't
happen,
that’s what. I made a conscious attempt to reel things back in.

“Well, enough talk about what we don’t have any
control over. I’m hungry, and we do have control over that,” I offered with a
forced smile. “Besides, I've actually got a lot of work to do, so let's quit
standing around and go inside and get some food.”