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tight as you can. Don’t worry about squeezing me. I just don’t want you falling off. And when I take a turn, lean into the turn with the bike, not against it. Got it?”
    Cassidy nodded. She slipped her hands then her arms around his narrow waist, tentatively at first. Diego was, after all, virtually a stranger. She wasn’t used to grabbing hold of men, even ones she knew really well, as she’d been raised to be reserved. Beneath his shirt lay hard abs. Her hands could count the six pack through the cloth. It was deliciously brazen to rub her palms across his hard expanse. When he let the bike leap forward, she hugged him more tightly, her uptight Boston upbringing be damned.
    Her splayed legs curved around his small, tight ass, and her breasts pushed against his broad back. The tremor of the bike goosed her nerve-endings, in particular the ones between her legs. It was like riding the world’s largest vibrator.
    As promised, Diego navigated slowly down the streets. Given the sudden state of her arousal, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he took her for a fast ride. Her pants clung to the leather seat by the wetness between her legs, which had nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day. Or even merely because of the bike’s motion. It was the man she gripped making her so.
    Her clit throbbed eagerly with every bump and grind. Her nipples had turned into sensitive points, enflaming her breasts with each rasp against Diego’s shirt. With the visor still up, the wind whipped gently against her face. Instead of helping her cool down, it revved her up. The bike was an amazingly liberating and thrilling mode of transportation. Taking a ride with a hot man even more so.
    The ride came to an end all too soon. Diego pulled over and parked the bike in a spot that wasn’t really a spot, but there was no ticketing at night and, big as it was, the bike was still much smaller than a car. She had trouble getting off by herself, her legs a little wobbly and the seat being so wide. Somehow, he managed to help her off without her landing on her ass. When she took off the helmet, she shook her head, sending her loose hair flying around her face.
    She laughed. “I always wanted to do that, like being in a hair product commercial. This is the first time I’ve had an occasion to.”
    Taking the helmet from her, Diego gave her a rueful look. “Really? With hair that silky, I would have thought you shook it all the time to drive men wild.”
    Cassidy rolled her eyes. “I have never driven men wild.”
    Diego reached out and tucked some hair behind her ear. He gazed down at her. “You’re wrong about that.”
    Her breath caught, and she became mesmerized by his eyes. Once again, she saw within them how much he wanted her. It was disturbing to be the focus of such desire and almost sent her running away. Almost. Instead, to buy herself some time to pull herself together, she adjusted her bag and stepped onto the sidewalk. “So, dinner?”
    Diego cleared his throat and joined her. He held both helmets in one hand, and they managed to cover the front of his pants. He got points for trying not to unsettle her too much, although she already knew he was aroused.
    “Yes, dinner. I’m told the food here is authentically Italian.” He passed her to open the door to the restaurant and usher her inside.
    “Are you part Italian?”
    He hesitated as he joined her, his expression suddenly guarded. “No, I’m one hundred percent Puerto Rican.” The way he pronounced his heritage told her he spoke Spanish as well. He stared at her, as if waiting for a response.
    She smiled back and gave a little nod of acknowledgment, not quite sure what he was looking for her to say. Or, maybe, she realized he was waiting for her to have a negative reaction. Could that be it? Like they were in West Side Story or something? God, had other women given him reason to worry about it? She was suddenly livid on his behalf and her own if that were