wearing my black yoga pants, a tight sports bra and fitted black tank, and because it’s spring and still cool in Seattle, a denim jacket. Nate is in long work out pants, a black sleeveless muscle shirt, and a black leather jacket. He has a folded black bandana wrapped around his head, keeping his hair out of his face. I spot his shiny black Mercedes and my little red Lexus.
“Do you want to take my car or yours?” I ask.
“Neither.” He responds and keeps walking. He stops next to a sleek, black motorcycle. It’s long and lean, with chrome tires and handlebars.
“This is yours?” I ask, my eyes wide.
“She is,” he offers me a wolfish grin. “You’ll need leather so we can ride her often.”
“It’s not summer yet,” I respond, backing up a bit.
“It’s not raining today. We’ll be fine.” He eyes me and sees my apprehension. “If you’d rather not, we can take my car.”
He looks so hopeful, how can I say no?
“No, it’s fine. I’ve never ridden on one before.”
“Well, I’m glad I’ll be your first, Miss Montgomery.” He swings a leg over the seat and settles in, pulling the bike upright and clicking back the kick-stand. He holds his hand out to me to help me on.
“What about my purse?” I ask.
“Oh, here,” he opens a satchel on the side and I slip my bag down in it, then climb on behind him. The seat is surprisingly comfortable. He passes me a black helmet and helps me secure it before fastening his own. “Hold on to me, around my waist. Lean in to the turns. Just sit back and enjoy the view, Julianne. I’ve got you.” He kisses me briefly, and my belly tightens.
Fuck, he’s hot. All these new sides of him that I’m learning are so damn fun and sexy. And so unexpected!
He revs the engine and backs us out of the parking space, and then we’re flying out of the garage and onto Sixth Avenue. I squeal and wrap my arms around him tightly, smiling wide. What an adrenaline rush! I feel the rumble of his laugh against my cheek as I hug up against him and watch the people on the sidewalk fly by. The wind is cool, but it feels so good against my cheeks.
Nate swerves into a parking lot not far from his apartment building, and I can’t help but be disappointed that the ride wasn’t longer. He parks and I climb off, smiling at him.
“How was that?” he asks, taking off his helmet.
“So fun!” I respond and remove my own helmet, hand it to him, then secure my pony tail. “I’m shopping for a leather jacket this week.”
He laughs and climbs off, retrieves my handbag out of the satchel for me, and leans down to kiss me.
“I’m glad you liked it. Come on, if memory serves, you think you can kick my ass.” He leads me toward a non-descript building. It looks pretty new, but there are no signs on it, and a passer-by would just assume it’s some kind of warehouse.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“My gym.” He opens the door for me and ushers me inside. Holy shit, this isn’t any gym I’m used to. It’s one huge room, with a loft above. There are treadmills and elipticals in the loft. Around the perimeter of the main room are punching bags suspended from the ceiling, mats for sit ups and push-ups, free weights, medicine balls and metal bars also suspended from the ceiling for pull ups.
On one side, there are large tractor-size tires, and men are flipping them over, then jumping through the hole and flipping them again.
Holy shit, this isn’t just working out, this is a sport.
In the center of this place is a ring. Two men are inside with protective head gear and white tape around their fists, sparring.
“Jesus, Nate, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“This is where I’ve always trained.”
“When you fought?” I ask. He grins mischievously down at me and winks.
“Yes, and I still work out here.”
“How often?”
“Five days a week, when possible.” He grabs my hand and pulls