Taboo Kisses by Helena Harker

Author:Helena Harker [Harker, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Published: 2013-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

***

The sun shone brightly, and the first autumn leaves spiraled from the trees. Maddox rolled his baby—a 1500cc Elektra Cruiser—out of the garage and told me to hop on. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grabbed my leather jacket, gloves, and helmet and sat behind him. Although I had a license, I didn’t get a chance to ride the bike often. Maddox was very possessive about his Cruiser and concerned about my tendency to ignore speed limits. Before he put his helmet on, I ruffled his sandy hair. He smiled at me over his shoulder, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Soon, we were on a winding stretch of road flanked by corn fields on one side and a rocky mountain on the other. Wind tugged at my jacket as I clung to Maddox.

After a while, Maddox pulled over. “Want to try?”

“Yes!” I practically shouted, sliding off and playfully muscling him out of the way.

Exhilarated by the power clamped between my legs, I adjusted my mirrors, grabbed the handlebars and applied the throttle. I nudged the bike onto the asphalt, happy that we had the road to ourselves. Traffic in this area had slowed to a trickle since the new highway opened last year.

The Cruiser was built for comfort on long journeys, not speed, but it didn’t stop me from pushing the engine. The motor growled under me, responding to my every demand. I leaned into the wind, thrilled by the way it grabbed at my jacket and snatched at my legs. The road snaked along the mountain, the intermittent white line skimming past in a blur.

Maddox tapped my right side, his signal for “Slow down, baby!” Ignoring him, I leaned forward, demanding more speed from the engine. A little faster. Just a little. The needle on the speedometer crept steadily forward.

As smoothly as a professional racer, I rounded another corner. By the time I saw the bed of leaves in the middle of my lane, it was too late to slow down or swerve. My heart stopped dead in my chest. My right boot instinctively shifted to the rear brake, but I knew I couldn’t decelerate fast enough. Maddox’s grip tightened around my ribcage, cutting off my breath.

As the bike lost speed, I pitched forward. The front wheel skidded on the patch of leaves. The Cruiser keeled over, dumping me on the road. As I spun madly from the asphalt onto the grass, I caught sight of the bike sliding across the road, metal twisting, parts flying into the air.

The tumbling stopped. I lay on my stomach. My helmet had flown off. Dizzy, dazed, I tried to raise my head. Impossible. Blood poured from my right shoulder, turning the yellowing grass to bright crimson.

The Cruiser lay several yards away, a hulk of wreckage resting against a boulder. My vision blurred. Maddox?

“Maddox,” I murmured weakly. “Maddox.” Managing to lift my head a few inches, I scanned the area, blood dripping into my eye.

There. Under the Cruiser, wedged between the rear tire and the boulder.

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