The Flower
Baby I’m Yours - Isobel Lerosa
“Excuse me?” I ask at the absurd statement.
“You’re not going to be able to hop on like that. Your skirt is too tight,” he explains. Is he crazy? I’m not going to hike up my skirt. If I do, I'll be exposing myself to everyone. And I won’t, especially with Parker being right there.
“You can’t just expect me to—”
“Just do it. I’ll help you,” he interrupts. I watch him pull his leather jacket off. He swings one leg over his motorcycle, then sits down. I stand there confused, wondering how the hell he is going to help me.
“I’ll hold my jacket in front of you so no one sees. Once you’ve gotten it to your upper thighs, place a foot on the peg there,” he gestures to the left side of his tire.
“Swing your leg over, like I did, then place your other foot on the other peg.” I glance down, trying to remember his instructions. I hesitate for a moment. God, I’m going to do this, aren’t I?
Yes. Yes, I am.
“Fine. You better cover me or I’m never seeing you again,” I threaten, pointing a finger at him, and he chuckles. The corner of my mouth perks up, not being able to help myself. He leans sideways, holding his large, black jacket in front of me, blocking the view from anyone next to us.
The fabric of my skirt tickles my legs as it brushes against them, getting higher and higher. My pulse races. I’ve never done anything like this before. I hold the crinkled material in place, leaving a little length to the front and back, not wanting to take any risks.
“How am I supposed to get on?” I ask, already forgetting what he just told me.
“You’re going to have to let go of your skirt.
You need to hold my shoulders for support.
” Let go of my skirt? He didn't tell me that initially.
I let out a sigh, look up, and give the sky a silent prayer before placing my hands on his shoulders, positioning my left foot on the peg, and pushing myself up.
The bike wobbles at the movement and I quickly hold on tighter. I’m sure I look like an absolute idiot. Thank goodness Axel is facing away from me. He lets me adjust myself before removing the leather. I look down as he places it on top of my lap, covering my front.
“Wrap your arms around me,” he instructs. I fold my arms over his neck, assuming he meant to keep my hands near his shoulders. He lets out a loud laugh, giggling endearingly, and it makes me smile. Is he laughing at me?
“No, wrap them around me like this.” My wrists are gently grabbed and moved to his midsection. Heat pools between my thighs. I loosen my grip, not wanting him to get the wrong impression, even though I’m probably the only one feeling this way. He notices and wraps me tighter.
“You’re going to want to hold on tight,” he says, turning and giving me a side view of his face. I examine it in the low light. A little dimple creases his cheek, making a dark crescent that makes me melt. Glad to see my confusion amuses him.
“You’re not going to let me fall, are you?” I ask, needing all the reassurance I can get.
“The only falling you’ll be doing is in love with me,” he says, surely. He lifts the kickstand with his foot. We wobble to the right slightly, now balancing on two tires and a pair of boots.
“What did you just say—?” I'm cut off by the roar of the engine. Heat rises from below and encompasses my legs. My nipples harden with my body pressed into his in anticipation. I’m holding on for dear life already when we haven't even moved yet.
He shifts the bike into gear, and we slowly inch forward. My eyes tighten shut. The feeling reminds me of being on a rollercoaster, except I'm not held by a seatbelt. Only by adrenaline. My body jerks backward, immediately feeling my soul leave. It causes me to pull in closer to him.
We make it down the short road. The main street just feet away, making me question why I agreed to this again. The touch of his hand on my knee slows my racing heart unexpectedly. Like an unspoken comfort.
“Are you doing okay back there?” he asks over the loud pipes.
“Barely!” I yell. Probably louder than need be, but I can barely even hear myself. My head rests against his neck. The thick helmet rumbling against him, making my vision shake.
The grip I have around him constricts as we drive onto the main street. We turn and I lean slightly with him, remembering his instructions. Wind kisses my exposed skin, and it feels freeing. One eye opens, peeking at the movement around us. The other eye follows.
The city is a blur from the position I’m in. Axel stays steady on the street. The sweat on my neck dries instantly as I move my head from the kinked position. I glance around, viewing the buildings, cars, and people getting left behind. I’m not sure how quickly we are going, but it's fast.
Am I still scared shitless? Yes, but another part of me feels liberated. Now I know why people drive these things. I take in the beauty of the night from a new perspective. It’s way better than driving in a car with the window rolled down.
The streets become familiar, observing that he is taking me back to work. How did he know to bring me back here? Maybe he just assumed I rode with Parker to dinner after work. Which isn’t wrong, and I deeply regret that decision. I know I’m going to pay for the events of tonight later.
Axel pulls up next to my car. It's the only one left parked. The feeling of the dark, spooky garage lifts with the sound of his bike alone. I hear the kickstand come out, and we lean slightly to the left. The ignition is silenced, leaving just the two of us in the quiet.
I stay planted in the leather seat, waiting for instructions on how to get off. My hands are then held by his, and I yank them back, not realizing I was still attached to him. He runs his hands through his tangled, darkened locks before he swings a leg over, getting off the bike.
The leather jacket slides forward, no longer being held up by our squshed bodies.
His eyes are charged with lust as he eyes me, and I quickly shift, grabbing the coat, covering myself up again.
Axel leans into me, unfastening the strap and lifting the helmet.
A moment of blindness encompasses me as my cheeks are squished upward at the motion.
I don’t want to open my eyes because I know there's a prominent blush on my cheeks. How am I supposed to see him for another session after tonight? I’ll just have to remind myself that it was just a ride home. I’ll have to remind him too.
That's it, just a ride home and nothing else.
I try to convince myself, but I know it won’t work. I hold the cold leather against me as I struggle to get off, not wanting to flash my client. Oh god, it sounds so terrible that way. He is just Axel Gray. A handsome, troubled, toxic—No. Just gonna stop you there, Dahlia.
He stands there with a smirk on his face, watching me stumble off the bike, quickly brushing my skirt down. That was fun, but I won't be doing that again. I could have died. I clear my throat, breaking the silence.
“Thank you for the ride,” I say to him. He looks at me like I’m the only girl on this earth and we need to hurry and re-populate. He is flirting too much, and he should not be. There needs to be boundaries, for both our sakes. He knows that.
“Any time. I’m, uh, sorry he put his hands on you like that. I hope I didn't scare you too badly when I hit him.”
I was hoping the elephant in the room had quietly walked away.
It was nice of him to come to my defense.
I am not sure how I would have handled that.
It reminded me of the roughness of that evening over a week ago.
I probably would have just broken down. I actually felt myself breaking down with the brief contact.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” I say, acknowledging that it was highly inappropriate. My hand brushes over my arm where he grabbed me. Axel observes the movement, and the look on his face changes softly.
“Don’t you ever apologize. It was not your fault.
I’m just glad I was there,” he demands, grabbing his jacket that I placed back on his seat.
I’m glad he was too. I feel like Princess Peach, consistently needing to be saved.
How do I keep getting so lucky and unlucky at the same time?
I swear the universe just loves to fuck with me.
It’s starting to make me think there's no rhyme or reason for everything that's been happening, just pure chaos.
“I mean, I was a little taken aback, but he got what he deserved. Thank you again. I don’t know how I can repay you,” I vocalize shyly.
“Don’t worry about it, Ms. Rosen. I’m sure it’ll work itself out.”
He gives me that panty-wetting wink, making me look away at the effect of it. I think my nipples have taken it upon themselves to stay hardened. Why am I like this?