The Bad Boy Wants Her [ COMPLETED ✓] | 18+

SAMPLE [ 09 ] familiar

From my side view, I can see Tristen rolling down his window. A tall, thin, blonde guy stands aside with a big grin on his. "Tris! You actually made it!" He boast. "Ready to get your ass kicked?"

Tristen chuckles. "Damien, I thought we already established that you're shit at racing." He confronts.

But even as they're having a side conversation, the only word I pick up is racing. I look around again and finally things click. The line-up of different cars, the deserted area that I've never seen before and the girls with their short skirts.

I felt as if I was in a short remake of a scene from Fast & Furious.

Tristen finishes his abrupt conversation with that Damien guy then turns to me. "How do you feel about being on a motorcycle?" His question leaves me thinking for a while.

I have never been on a motorcycle before but I could sense the danger that came from them. The sense of even speaking about being on a motorcycle made me feel uneasy. But I didn't want to be a chicken. I didn't want to not try anything and ruin the night for us.

"It'll be my first time but I'm willing to try it." I confirm and the smile on his face assures me that he was more than thrilled that I agreed.

I stare at the sculptured bones of his face. "I think I'm going to be your first for a lot of things." He answered just as he found a spot and parks the truck.

I pause once hearing his comment. It isn't the sentence that throws me off course, it's the way he says the sentence that makes my stomach clench. His eyes are compelled to mine as if he's relaying a message that only I will understand.

And quite frankly, I believe I understand a little too well.

I can feel the sweat building up on my palms as we sat, parked, in a comfortable trance with one another.

He slips his hand down to my neck and I can feel him running his hands through my hair. "I want to see you without this ponytail," He says, eyes still focused on mine while his fingers feather my tress. The tension that grows on my skin from his touch is exhilarating. I seem to let him take away my hair tie and then I feel my soft hair falling down my shoulders.

I never wear my hair down because I don't feel like it frames my face properly. Ponytails were my go-to everyday.

But as I ogle Tristen watching me and running his hands around me, the glow in his eyes calms me.

I think he wants to say more but he doesn't. He quickly turns away and begins heading out. And just as quickly as he gets out the car, he jogs around the front and opens my door for me.

I thank him and feel my legs wobble once he slips his hand into mine. There are people staring at us, smirking and waving at him but I don't recognize none of these faces. I stay close to him, feeling protected by his presence.

His broadening figure shields be from all the other guys that are staring. But even as they stare, they soon make eye contact with Tristen and turn away.

I pull my maxi skirt higher, trying to cover the exposed skin that wasn't concealed by the crop-top. As I am touching my skirt, something pops up in my head.

"Tristen, I can't go on the motorcycle."

He abruptly stops. "What? Why?" He turns me, his dark brows almost becoming one.

I pinch at the fabric as I had been doing before at the beach. "I'm wearing a skirt."

His eyes scan my body down and he shakes his head, his tongue briefly swiping across his bottom lip. "So?" He questions, as if it wasn't a big deal.