“It’s just. I brought my bike. And I should have asked you if you’d be all right riding it.” Garrett fiddled with his empty water glass. “I should’ve brought my truck.”

Jase forced his face to stay expressionless. “You want me to be your bitch.”

“What?” Garrett’s eyes opened wide.

Jase almost busted out laughing at the high pitch Garrett’s voice reached. Pitying him, Jase said, “What I meant to ask was, you want me riding in the bitch seat?”

Jase loved how easy it was to rile Garrett.

Garrett gnawed on his lip and gazed at the floor. “Oh. Yeah. No. I guess not.” Garrett’s words came out softer than a whisper.

Damn, this guy is adorable. Although that wasn’t the right word to use. At least not aloud. “Garrett,” Jase pushed Garrett’s shoulder. “I was only kidding. I’d be up for taking your bike. It’s the perfect night for a ride.”

Garrett stared at Jase, appearing to size him up. “You sure. You’re okay riding on the back?”

Jase smiled and chugged the rest of his beer before chucking the bottle into the recycle bin. “If it’s a choice between the back and the handlebars, the back’s fine by me.”

Garrett’s entire demeanor changed. He lost the tension that held him hostage.

Jase turned to leave the room. “Let me grab my leather jacket, and I’m ready to go.”

“Okay. Great.”

They stepped out the front door, and Jase stopped, almost causing Garrett to walk into him. He missed the bike when Garrett first arrived. And he wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t what he saw. “This bike is hot.” It was chocolate-brown and chrome. “What is this?”

“It’s a two-thousand-twelve Harley-Davidson Sportster eight-eight-three Iron.” The smile on Garrett’s face did strange things to Jase’s stomach. Or maybe the thought of riding the bike caused the Jurassic sized butterflies in Jase’s stomach.

Garrett took both helmets off the bike and handed one to Jase. “Here.”

“Thanks.” As Jase put the helmet on, he realized how small the seat was, and those damn butterflies grew into pterodactyls.

Jase pulled his helmet on as he watched Garrett climb on the bike. Garrett started the motor, then turned to peer at Jase. “Climb on.”

Jase stood for a second, trying to figure out how to do this. He didn’t think he’d be able to throw his leg over the machine while using the air for balance. Shit.

Jase laid his hand on Garrett’s shoulder, and a shock raced up Jase’s arm. Caught off guard, Jase pulled back. Garrett’s confused gaze locked on Jase and told him Garrett felt the jolt too. Jase tried not to make a big deal over it. On his second try, Jase moved slower than his first try, placed his hand on Garrett’s shoulder again, and ignored the shock while throwing his right leg over the bike. Once seated, he fought with where to settle his hands.

“Put your hands on my waist and lean into the turns,” Garrett instructed. “And if you’re uncomfortable and need to adjust, give me a squeeze, and I’ll pull over and stop.”

“Okay.” Jase paid attention to what Garrett said, but he had trouble digesting the part about holding onto Garrett. Fuck. Where did he think he’d put his hands, and why was he making it an issue? Jase didn’t know the answer. But he knew he should have insisted on driving.

“Ready?” Garrett asked, talking loud enough for Jase to hear him over the roar of the engine.

“Yep.” Jase deposited his hands on Garrett’s waist, ready for a jolt, and ended up somewhat disappointed when nothing happened.

They took off smooth, and soon enough, Jase relaxed into the ride. But after a few blocks, he grew tense. The vibrations from the bike, and his proximity to Garrett, more specifically his dick’s nearness to Garrett’s ass, caused Jase’s cock to harden. And added to that, sometime during their two-minute ride, Jase’s hands had moved, and now he had his arms wrapped around Garrett’s waist. Even with the jacket Garrett wore, Jase found it impossible not to notice Garrett’s muscles. The urge to burrow under the material of Garrett’s shirt and jacket overwhelmed Jase. What was wrong with him?

He pulled his arms away and caused Garrett to grab on to Jase’s hands.

Garrett turned his head to the side. “Easy.” Then he patted Jase’s hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, screaming over the bike’s roar.

No. “Yes.” Mortified, Jase stayed still, fighting his urge to adjust himself. He’d hold himself together until they arrived at the theater. And once there, he could address his growing problem. Otherwise, he’d cause Garrett to crash the bike.

For the next ten minutes of the ride, Garrett kept hold of Jase’s hands. Garrett must not have realized. But Jase did. Garrett’s touch burned into Jase. Then Garrett moved his hand back to the handlebars, and Jase felt the loss.

The ride took thirty minutes, but to Jase, it felt like an eternity.