Sloane was lying in bed Monday night, exhausted and wishing whoever was banging around in the shop downstairs would die a painful, torturous death. She had put in another full day at the groomers and then had come home, eaten a store-bought salad, and attempted to create some sort order to the chaos that was her apartment. She had reached the horrible point where you still have a dozen boxes but no damn clue where to put any of the items in them.

Really, why did she have an egg cooker? Her new kitchen was about five by five, with exactly four cabinets to store everything. The counter space was exactly three feet. She knew, because she’d measured it. Her kitchen in her house with Tom had been enormous, with professional grade appliances. Not that she was a gourmand by any means but she had liked to cook. The irony of that being Tom was almost never home; he was either at the hospital or getting called back to the hospital. She’d made herself some very delicious meals in a beautiful, big, lonely as hell house.

But here, she was struggling to figure out what to do with all her equipment and had come to the sad conclusion she was going to have to either ditch about half of it or take it to her dad’s house. Which wasn’t a horrible idea, either. She could cook for him once a week. The man lived on beer nuts, which could not be healthy.

As her thoughts spun around and around, she listened to the sound of an air compressor going off downstairs. Really? Her own thoughts were clanging and loud enough, she did not need Rick’s night owl work habits preventing her getting a decent night’s sleep. It was his fault all the way around she was sleep deprived, now that she thought about it. Saturday, he’d kept her up half the night—which was worth it—but then Sunday night she’d been exhausted and unable to sleep because she was worried about her brother. Sullivan had clearly sensed the sexual tension between her and Rick.

Now he was fixing something at midnight? Who did that?

Sloane closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing deeply in and out. Draw the air in through her nose, push it out her mouth. She relaxed her shoulders, one at a time. Wiggled her fingers. Forced herself to relax the muscles in her thighs, her calves. Let her feet droop. The temperature in the apartment was perfect. She had the window cracked for a cool breeze and her sheets were crisp and new.

She started to drop into sleep.

Wham. The compressor went off again, jolting her out of her zen state as she jerked up off the mattress. Her heart rate increased twenty-fold. “That’s it.” She threw the sheet off of her legs and sat up. She was groggy and dizzy from the tease of repeatedly almost reaching REM and then being yanked back into reality.

Sloane stood up and stumbled across her bedroom. She’d decreased the number of moving boxes in there only marginally, not having enough time to deal with any of it, and she stubbed her toe on a heavy box corner. “Ow. Damn it.”

Grabbing her keys off the kitchen counter so she didn’t get locked out of the exterior door to the building, she left the apartment in sleep shorts and a tank top, shoving her hair out of her eyes. She wanted to murder Rick.

He may be sexy and he may have given her the best sex of her life but she needed some motherfucking sleep or there would be hell to pay.

She came tumbling out onto the sidewalk, not even caring if anyone saw her. But of course, no one did, because everyone else in Beaver Bend was, you know, asleep. Except for her landlord. The air was cool and downtown was quiet in either direction. Most of the buildings were shops, not residential, and it struck her now as a little eerie. Fear started to creep in to mingle with her anger.

The front door to the auto shop was locked but she hot-footed it around the side and found the garage door wide open. Rick was whistling along to the radio, which was turned to a low volume. He had a car up and was clearly working on it.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Which was a pointless question. She could see what he was doing. He was working. At midnight. On a Monday.

His whistling cut out and he turned. “Hey, Sloane. I’m working. What are you doing?”

“I’m not sleeping, that’s what I’m doing.” She moved into the garage, feeling like hissing as the bright lights hit her in the face. “You’re really loud, are you aware of that?”

“My radio is on low.” He gave her a smile. “You look very cute right now, did you know that?”

He put down whatever tool he was holding and came toward her. Sloane paused. Oh, hell, no. She knew that look. He was stalking her. He wanted her. Nope. Not happening. “You can’t distract me, Rick. I’m exhausted and I’m pissed off. You either need to be quieter or quit working for the night.”

“Sorry, beautiful.” He came up to her and brushed her hair back off of her face. “I got behind on my regular repairs because I’ve been busy working on my bike you wrecked.”

Oh, he was good. “That’s not going to work, Ryder. I refuse to feel guilty because you are stubborn. It was an accident.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Hey.”

She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Hey, what?”

“We’re alone and no one can see us in the back of the garage.” He put his hand to her lips. “Unless you don’t think you can be quiet.”

His other hand was teasing at the front of her sleep shorts, right between her legs.

And just like that, she proved herself just as stubborn as him, because she was not about to let him think she couldn’t control her volume.

She reached out and grabbed his cock through his jeans. “I’m not the noisy one. I think we just established you are.”

---

Rick sucked in a breath. Damn, Sloane had turned the tables on him. Completely.

She had stormed in there, looking sleepy and sexy, her hair a mess and her nipples jutting into the cotton of her tank top.

He did feel bad he’d woken her up. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take advantage of it though. So while she stroked his cock, he stroked her pussy through the thin fabric of her shorts. He dipped his finger deep, right between her lips. She sucked in a breath.

“Come here,” he said. “Come see my handiwork. Truthfully, I owe you a thank you. The bike needed some TLC anyway.”

He dropped his hand and reached for hers. She sucked in a disappointed breath. He grinned, wanting to draw out the anticipation. Sloane in his garage at midnight, ready and willing? Dream come true. He wanted to see her straddle his bike. Arch her back. Show him those nipples.

“You’re welcome,” she said, dryly.

That made him laugh. “I feel like you’re being sarcastic with me.”

“Then you feel right.”

“At least your insurance premium won’t go up. You should be grateful to me.”

Her eyes darkened. “Oh, I am.”

Fuck. He tugged her hand and drew her to the back of his garage, where his bike was parked, ready to ride again. Shiny and polished, his pride and joy. “There she is. Better than brand new.”

“Looks nice.”

“Nice? All you can say is nice?” He was only half-kidding. “This is not a nice bike. It’s bad-ass. It’s a bobber style Indian.”

“I have no idea what that means but if it makes you happy.” Sloane yawned.

That was not acceptable. “Here, climb on.” He held his hand out. “It’s thunder black smoke, with a custom trim color. I had this thing built exactly the way I wanted it. I’ve had a thing for motorcycles since I was a kid.”

Just like he had with Sloane. Now as he helped her climb on, he figured this was as good as it was going to get. Sloane on his bike in a tight tank top. She looked hot as hell. She had long lean legs, spread wide to accommodate the bike.

Glancing at him, clearly amused, she tossed her hair, raking it off her face. It did fantastic things to her chest. Rick reached out and cupped her tit, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t you feel bad ass?” he asked. “Because you look bad ass.”

“I feel a little bad ass,” she admitted. She grabbed the handlebars. “Are you going to take me for a ride?”

Rick adjusted his cock in his jeans. “On the Indian? Another day. But I can give you a different kind of ride.”

She laughed softly. “Four on the flirt scale. Too predictable.”

He thumbed her nipple, which had gotten nice and firm for him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Oh, and you’re unpredictable?”

She nodded. “I can be. I used to be all the time. Then I seem to have forgotten now. But now that I’m back in Beaver Bend, I’m remembering how carefree I used to be.”

He liked where this was going. “That’s a good thing then.”

She sat up again and peeled off her tank top, exposing those delicious tits for his full view. Rick swore under his breath. She tucked the tank top into the waistband of her pink sleep shorts and rose up a little, clenching her thighs. Hands in her hair, she gave him a sassy look. “Do I look like a pin up girl?”

He nodded, slowly, backing up so he could really appreciate the view. “I’d buy this calendar that’s for damn sure.” He pulled out his phone.

“You are not going to take a picture of me.” But she didn’t change positions or look alarmed in any way.

“I am if you say it’s okay.” His dick was so hard it was throbbing painfully in his jeans. His tongue felt too thick for his mouth.

“I should be worried about an evidence trail.” She bit her lip, which only made him groan again.

“And?”

She threw her leg back over the bike, disappointing him even more than he had been when the Vikings lost in the playoffs. But then, magic happened. Sloane didn’t dismount the bike. She just eased her sleep shorts down, giving him a flash of her dark curls before kicking the shorts onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked, fucking scandalized and as turned on as maybe he’d ever been.

“This.” She lifted her leg again and the view he got nearly killed him.

“Fuck,” he said, already reaching for her.

But she waved him away and settled down onto his bike. She shivered. “Oh, that feels kind of dirty.”

“It’s a lot dirty. And gorgeous.” He had to shift his feet apart to give his dick more room.

“No, I mean it’s cold steel on my warm body.”

He could see goosebumps were marching across her arms. “Your body or your pussy?”

She bit her lip. “Pussy.”

He’d never be able to ride the Indian again without thinking of Sloane straddling her, bare ass and pussy resting on the machine. She had no idea what she was doing to him. None. Or maybe she did and she liked torturing him. But he didn’t think so. She was just exploring, having fun.

“I should keep you awake more often.”

That made her laugh. “Please, I beg you, no.”

“You’re begging me?” Rick put his phone back in his pocket. “I like the sound of that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Where is River, by the way?”

He did not want to think about his sister. “Tucked in bed, asleep. I have the building under surveillance and she’s all locked in. Both to the building and the apartment. Please don’t call me a bad parent. I get that enough from my father. He thinks she’d be better off living in his mold-infested hellhole than with me.”

“I wasn’t going to judge you, trust me. I think given you’re right downstairs, it’s totally normal. How it is any different from parents hanging out in their suburban garage when they’re kids are inside sleeping?”

That made me feel better. She had a point but he’d been feeling too guilty to even consider that. “Thanks, Sloane. Now can we talk about the fact that you are completely naked on my motorcycle and there is no one to hear us or interrupt us?”

The tip of her tongue crept out of her mouth and slid along her bottom lip, moistening it. She made a show of spreading her legs even further, and leaning forward. It was an absolutely fucking fantastic view. The curve of her ass rose, beckoning him to grab on and squeeze. Her tits jutted forward, and her neck was long and graceful. The perfect silhouette. She was a motorcycle magazine cover.

“We can talk about it,” she said. “Or we can just do something about it.”

“Ride or die?” he asked, as he pulled his wallet out of his jeans and grabbed a condom. Then he ditched his t-shirt and his jeans and approached the bike.

Sloane gave him a sly smile. “Definitely ride or die.”

Rick cupped her cheeks and gave her a hot, bent up kiss, letting all his passion loose on her. She destroyed him she was so damn sexy. When he pulled back she was panting. “Stand up, beautiful. I’m sliding in.”

She did stand up but then she said, “Now what?”

Leaving his brief on because he was not about sticking his bare ass on cold steel he took her around the waist and hauled her to him. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She did, her tits pressing against his bare chest. Her arms snaked around his neck.

It was an intriguing tangle of limbs but he managed to get up on the bike, with her facing him, and eased her down into his lap. “Hello,” he said. “Funny meeting you here.”

Sloane gave a seductive little laugh. She didn’t giggle, that wasn’t ever her style. She had a husky voice, one that could hold him as securely as a fist wrapped around his balls. “I know, right?” she asked, arms draped loosely over his shoulders.

The skin on her thighs had cooled from sitting on the bike, goosebumps still prominent all over her body. He aimed to make her warm again. Starting with bending down and easing his tongue over her nipple. She arched her head back to give him better access and he drew the tight bud into his mouth. He scraped his teeth over it and she gasped.

His cock was resting on her thigh, still covered by his briefs. Ripping the condom open with his teeth, he set her back slightly, lifted his cock out and sheathed it. Sloane was already rocking against him eagerly and he teased her apart with his fingers, testing to see if she was ready for him. He cursed. “Babe, you’re so wet.”

“It’s the motorcycle. I got turned on.”

“And here I thought it was my muscles.”

Sloane gripped his shoulders. “Fuck me, Rick. Just shut up and fuck me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He gripped her waist and eased her down onto him. She gave the most seductive groan that he lost all ability to hold back. He just palmed her hips and pounded up into Sloane.

Gravity kept her firmly on his cock and she was moaning virtually nonstop, her tits bouncing up and down with the hard rhythm. The bike was hard beneath him, the artificial lighting of his garage cast down over Sloane at an angle. Her body was fully displayed and lit for him, yet her face was in shadow. Her voice told him all he needed to know though. Her head was thrown back and she was holding on to hard. He was going to have bruises on his shoulders tomorrow and that turned him on even move.

Her clit was rubbing against him from the angle and she was getting frantic, her moans desperate. He eased a finger between their bodies and tweaked her clit, giving it a little pinch like he’d done her nipple. Her head gave forward and she locked eyes with him, her mouth open in shock.

She came silently, a big beautiful orgasm, so intense he felt her pussy contracting on his cock. He could feel her slickness sliding down over him.

Finally she dragged in a deep breath and gave a soft laugh. “This is so dirty.”

“Yes, it is.” He drove into her, wanting her to understand how hard she made him. “You like my ride?”

She nodded. “Best I’ve ever had.”

That stroked his ego just enough to cause him to explode. He was fucking Sloane on his Indian and she loved it. He buried himself inside her and let go of the last shreds of his control.

Sloane watched him, looking triumphant as he groaned out her name. She even laughed softly, looking every inch the confident girl he’d known in high school.

If he could help her heal from her marriage in any way, he was happy to do it. Especially if it involved sex. It was his special talent. Not to brag or anything. Okay. He was bragging.

“But you never saw this one coming back when we were kids.” He exhaled on a sigh. “Damn, that was hot.”

“Nope. If anyone had told me I’d be having sex with Little Dickie, naked on his motorcycle, I would have thought they were a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“Unexpected. It keeps life exciting.”

Sloane shifted a little. “Help me down off this thing. I’m not as limber as I used to be.”

“You seem pretty flexible to me, though I may have to test it further. Splits, remember?” He winked at her.

Sloane rolled her eyes, like he knew she would. He stood up and lifted her down off the bike. When she bent over to get her shorts and tank top, he swatted her bare ass.

“Ah!” she shrieked, jerking away. She covered her ass and shot him a glare. “You’re a very bad boy.”

He grinned. “The worst. But you’re a very naughty girl. Who stripped herself naked on my bike.”

She tilted her head. “That was pretty naughty, wasn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Good,” she said, looking very sassy. She pulled her tank top on. “Now please tell me you’re done working so I can get some sleep.”

He wasn’t where he had wanted to be but he’d lost his enthusiasm for carburetors. He wanted to walk Sloane to her apartment and give her a goodnight kiss.

“I’m done.” He adjusted himself and retrieved his own clothes. He took a deep breath. “Ah. Sex and motor oil. My two favorite scents.”

“Gross!” Sloane laughed and put those little shorts back on.

“It’s not gross. It’s the smell of awesome.” He wished he could slide into her bed and hold her throughout the night, but he wasn’t comfortable leaving River all night, even if he was just across the hall. She knew he worked at night, but if she woke up at five in the morning and he wasn’t there, she would get scared.

“All right, I’m heading up.”

“I’ll walk up with you.”

“Won’t that look obvious if someone sees us leaving together at midnight?”

Rick raised an eyebrow as he felt his pocket for his wallet. “Sloane. If they see you leave here at all they might speculate. You’re in your pajamas and there’s no fire.”

“I’ll just tell them the truth—I came down to yell at you to keep it down.”

He had no idea who these mysterious people were who were going to question her on her nocturnal activities but he just nodded. “Solid plan.”

It turned out the mysterious people was a nine-year-old girl. When they came up the stairs River opened the door and poked her head out. “Why are you guys together so late?”

Busted. “What did I tell you about opening that door?” he demanded of his sister, annoyed because one, she’d almost given him a heart attack. And two, now he couldn’t kiss Sloane goodnight. “You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

River rolled her eyes. “I heard your voice.”

“I went downstairs to yell at him,” Sloane said. “I was trying to sleep and he was banging around down there. It was totally rude.”

“Totally,” he said, amused. Zero hesitation on her part to throw him under the bus. “Sorry again.”

“It’s okay. Partly my fault anyway since I hit your bike Saturday night.”

She sounded more snarky than sincere but he wasn’t going to worry about it. “Goodnight then, Sloane. See you around.”

River held the door open wide for him. “No one likes a workaholic.”

He grabbed her around the neck and gave her a noogie while she squirmed. “Who body swapped you with a fifty-year-old woman? Your soul is so old it makes dirt look young.”

“Weird.” River shook her head. “You’re just weird.” Then she pulled away from him and waved to Sloane. “Goodnight.”

Sloane was unlocking her door and she turned back and smiled and waved at him.

She looked sleepy and sexy, her hair wrecked, her lips pink and plump. Her neck was still stained red from sexual exertion. She looked like everything he’d ever wanted.

Rick felt something he’d never experienced before.

A niggle of doubt that he could stay casual.

He hustled River into the apartment and slammed the door, fucking terrified of that thought.