"Or you could do someone out here," a voice says from behind me and I screech in surprise, turning to see some latino guy laughing on a big harley. "Sorry," he lies, which I knew because he wouldn't find it so damn amusing if he wasn't. He widens his eyes as if to look innocent. "Really."
"Like hell you are," I glare, and he laughs again, which just pisses me off more.
"Hey, want a ride?" he asks, and I roll my eyes. "No seriously, just a ride."
"That's what I'm afraid of," I say.
His eyes widen, and I realize they're almost black, just like his hair. "Oh, you want to more than just ride the Harley?"
For some reason I find myself blush, heat rushing to more than my face. Christ my boyfriend's done a number on me, I think, but even so I can't help but notice his jeans hug some pretty muscular legs.
"Come on, what do you have to lose?" he asks.
I hesitate, looking at the bar, wondering if I should be running away to its safety.
"Yeah, you can do that," he says, and I snap my head back to him, wondering if he heard my thoughts.
"You can run inside and lose your self-respect in the men's room to some fat slob who just came off twelve hours of hard labor," he says, perfectly serious, those dark eyes boring into mine. "Or you can come take a great ride on a harley, and all you'll lose..." he trails off, and I can feel my face turning red as his eyes latching onto my barely covered pubes, that seem to heat up all of a sudden.
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