Page 38 of Forbidden Letters


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“I don’t need toseeyou with my eyes. My imagination is showing me everything.”

No man had ever flirted with me and I had no experience with anyone showing a sexual interest in me. “Do you see the large mole on my hip too?”

“You have a mole?”

“Not one, but seventeen and they’re all brown and hairy. And then there’s the angry-looking scar from the time I had surgery. It goes all the way from my hip to my collarbone.”

“What surgery?”

“Ehh… it was an, eehhh… heart surgery.”

“Who’s the liar now?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Your top revealed enough skin for me to see your collarbone and there were no scars or moles.”

“All right.” I wasn’t sure what to do with my wet panties and top and looked around. In a few hours there would be sun on this beach, so I left my underwear to dry on a large rock and then I closed my bag. “I’m ready to go now.”

Tyton watched me as I walked to his bike and took in the large machine. “How do I get on this thing?”

“I just swing my leg over, but I guess you’re too short to do that.”

“Can I step on that thing?” I pointed to a pipe of some kind.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” He got onto the bike and scooted back to make room for me. “If you come over here, I’ll pull you up.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not sitting in front of you.”

“I always have Wilma up front. How else can I make sure you’re safe?”

The thought of being surrounded by his strong body made my stomach act up like the first time I had to read from my debut novel in public. I hated when nervous energy filled me like that, but I wouldn’t let him see it.

“I’m either sitting behind you or I’m running.”

“Why? Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?”

“No, but I don’t want a large Nman pressed up against me.”

His brow shot up. “What’s the difference between me pressing up against you and you pressing up against me?”

“The difference is that I won’t press up against you.”

For a long moment we locked eyes in a battle of wills.

“Okay, then you sit behind me… for now.”

He gave me a hand and pulled me up on the large bike. “Hold on to me.”

“No thank you.”

“All right…” He said it drawn out with annoyance. “Then I’ll just go extra slow, so you won’t fall off.” It was clear that his snail’s pace was a deliberate provocation.

“I could walk faster than this.”

“Then hold on to my waist.”

With a sigh of resignation, I snaked my arms around him, but I still wasn’t holding on.