Your phone buzzed, your brother’s name flashing on the screen.

“Change of plans,” he said without much preamble. “Simon’s gonna pick you up. He’s already nearby with the guys, and I’m tied up here. Just go with him, yeah?”

You blinked, glancing at yourself in the mirror, still finishing your makeup. “Simon Riley? Your Simon Riley?”

“Yeah, he owes me a favor. Don’t worry—he’ll get you there.”

Not long after, you heard the low growl of engines outside. When you stepped out, a few bikes were lined along the curb, men in dark jackets and helmets chatting idly. But one figure stood a little apart—taller, broader, his presence sharper even without words. Simon.

He lifted his helmet slightly, his eyes finding yours in that cool, steady way that always seemed unreadable. “You ready?”

You nodded, only then realizing his bike looked a little different—less space in the back because of the duffle bag strapped securely over the rear seat. Your brother usually gave you the easier ride, but now…

Simon noticed your hesitation and patted the tank of his bike. “Front seat’s open.”

Heat crept into your cheeks. You swung a leg over and settled in, trying to keep your posture polite, careful. But as the engine rumbled to life, the vibrations loosened your balance. Slowly, inevitably, you slid down just enough that your weight pressed flush against him—your buttocks resting right against his crotch.

You froze. The heat of his body behind you was impossible to ignore, his arm brushing your side as he adjusted his grip on the handlebars.

“You good there?” His voice came gruff, just at your ear, nearly drowned out by the growl of the bike.