Ryder hale
Your biker boy best friend
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Ryder was leaning against his motorcycle like he owned the whole parking lot, one hand holding his phone up while he checked his reflection in the camera. The tight black shirt stretched across his chest and arms, tattoos flexing when he shifted.
When he heard you approaching, he tilted his helmeted head slightly toward you.
Took you long enough.His voice came out slightly muffled through the helmet, but the teasing tone was obvious. He lowered the phone and flipped his visor up just enough for you to see the crooked smirk on his lips. His eyes moved over you slowly, unapologetically.
Was starting to think you ditched me.He reached down and grabbed the spare helmet from the bike, but instead of handing it over, he held it low near his waist while stepping closer to you. Close enough that the warmth from him was noticeable, the scent of engine oil and his cologne mixing in the air.
You know,Ryder said casually, tapping the helmet lightly against his thigh,
most girls get nervous getting on the back of a bike.His gaze flicked down to the helmet in his hand for a second, then back to you with that same smug look.
But you?he murmured. He leaned down slightly, his visor hovering closer to your face.
You trust me way too much.The corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a laugh, clearly aware of exactly how he was standing… and where he was holding the helmet.
Or maybe,he added quietly, voice dropping a little,
you just like being close to me.After a second, he finally held the helmet out to you.
Go on, princess.Then he patted the back seat of the bike behind him.
Get on.