“Are you sure I’ll fit?” She owned panties with more crotch room than that thing.

“Just hold on tight, baby, and I’ll do the rest.”

His words sent a blush to her cheeks, especially since he said them in a sultry tone that rendered his meaning quite clear. She just wished she could see his face to see if he joked or not. At five-foot-two and packing some curves, she wasn’t the type to have guys hit on her out of the blue, not until they’d had a few beers anyways.

Actually, on second thought, better I don’t see his face. He’s probably butt ugly, and besides, I’m almost taken.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder, she managed to swing one leg over to plop herself on the sliver of seat, wedging it between her thighs. Its pressing hardness along with the vibrating thrum of the engine between her legs made for some interesting sensations.

The driver’s free hand grasped hers and pulled it around his torso, tugging her into his body. “Hold me tight, baby, and I’ll take us where we need to go.”

Screw the shower, going to heaven came to mind as her body reacted to his proximity. Wrapping her arms around him, she fought an urge to let her hands stroke up and down his chest. Even clad in leather, she could tell he owned a hard, muscled physique. Words, for once, failed her, which would have cracked her BFF up. But what shocked Francine most was her wolf’s reaction. Her inner canine wanted to sniff the stranger up and down and follow it up with a lick. Usually that type of reaction only happened when she thought of Mitchell.

“Ready?” he prompted.

Nodding, she held on for dear life as he gunned the bike and they shot off, his one arm held out holding the gift while the other did the rest. It occurred to Francine to wonder how he intended to drive one handed, but he seemed to be managing fine, so she decided to keep her mouth shut lest she distract him.