"Do you shave every day?" Solana adjusted the plush black towel around her damp skin. The shower seemed like a good idea after their adventures in the kitchen this morning, but the exercise had turned into adventures in the bathroom and her fingers were pruney.

Last night was the first time they'd had the freedom to indulge. All week, Jack's limo had waited outside the diner at the end of her shift, and they'd managed some pretty intense kissing on the short ride to her grandmother's house. Jack had even stayed over, squeezing into her twin bed again like he had the night she'd found him drunk on her doorstep. But with the thin walls and both Luc and Ximena home, nothing more had happened.

Friday came and Jack suggested they stay at his place for the weekend. Solana packed a bag and spent her entire shift with a belly filled with butterflies. She couldn't get enough of Jack, riding the high of their connection and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

"Of course. My uncle always quoted Jack Kemp 'Winning is like shaving—you do it every day or you wind up looking like a bum.' He believed impressions counted." He twisted the straight razor in his hand. "One bad photo could ruin years' worth of image."

Solana ran her fingers along his chin, the fine morning stubble creating a shadow on his face. His eyes met hers in the mirror. "Be a rebel today." She took the razor out of his hands. "No one will recognize you where we're going?"

His reflection raised an eyebrow. "And where are we going?"

"I went to your party last weekend. It's time to play in my world." She dropped the towel and walked back into his bedroom. "You game?"

"Always."

A shiver ran down her back at the timber of his voice. Maybe a change of plans was in order. They could stay home and feast on each other all weekend. Just the two of them. She moved through Jack's bedroom, refusing to look back. One glance and they wouldn't leave this space. "Let's find you something to wear." She took his hand and headed for the walk-in closet.

Bypassing row upon row of suits, Solana searched for something suitable for what she had in mind for today. Jack leaned against the door frame, watching her every move. At the back of the closet, she spotted something shiny. Her fingers brushed against sequins and out came a short golden dress. "What is this doing here?"

A wide grin broke across Jack's handsome face, taking her breath away. "I had to have it."

"This is the dress?" She ran her finger along the sequined material.

"And the shoes." He bent down and pulled out a box.

Solana admired the ripple of his muscles as he knelt before her. "Better be careful Jack, one might get the impression you are sentimental."

"No one has ever accused me of that." He rose to his full height, his jaw settling into stone.

She ran a finger down the groove between his abs and ignored the flutter in her stomach. "Consider yourself accused."

At the back of his closet, she'd found a treasure trove of clothing Jack claimed he never wore including a pair of midnight designer jeans, an ebony leather jacket and a box of black T-shirts with the Blackhorne & Caldwell logo printed in the corner. "This will do."

Jack tugged the cotton over his shoulders, the black material falling down his torso to hide the delightful ridges from view. "The things I do for you."

An hour later, they strolled into The Delgata Racing Group. Despite the fact Cassius had introduced her to the place, the motorcycle club had been like a second home to her before she left for Vegas. She'd worked in the lounge to earn time on the track and other members felt like family.

Jack surveyed the room, his eyes catching on the metallic tables, the glass cases full of memorabilia and the other patrons as if he was categorizing and assessing each sight. She tapped his arm. "Have you ever been on a bike before?"

"No." The tendons in his neck stretched. "My uncle said motorbikes were for gangs and criminals. Why ride when you could pay someone to drive?"

"Your uncle was no fun." Solana tugged on the stiff leather of the jacket that she was fairly confident had never been worn before today.

"You have no idea."

Except she was absolutely starting to get the idea of the type of cage Jack lived in. A life of luxury but none of the freedoms to enjoy it. She tossed a helmet his way. "Well, I'm all about fun."

He stepped forward, peering down with those crystal blue eyes. "Don't I know it."

"Good." She knew the silly grin she couldn't keep off her face was back, and today she didn't care. Abraham had complained about her good mood when she told him about her weekend with Jack. Or had started to. The guilt of her happiness against his disappointment over her choosing to be with Jack had forced her to keep the giddiness at bay at the diner. Here, however, no one knew Jack. Or cared. She was free to let down her guard. Wasn't that what riding was all about, anyhow?

Adding to the lightness in her step was the seed of promise that what was happening between her and Jack was possible. Although from different worlds, they found common ground and even worked together. He'd taken her suggestion to speak to the CFO from the heart and signs indicated the deal was back on the table.

On top of that, Jack had trusted her from the moment she left that bathroom, never questioning where they were going.

Solana swung her leg over the leather of the bike and patted the portion of the seat behind her. "Hop on."

Cassius always insisted he drive, or she had to go solo if she wanted to control the bike. Lincoln wouldn't even get on a motorcycle the one time she'd managed to get him out to a racetrack. Downright refusing to ride on the back. Jack didn't hesitate, sliding in behind her, his warm chest pressed against her back. "What do I do with my hands?"

With the push of a button, the engine roared to life. "Up to you. But seeing as this is your first time, best to hold on to my waist."

"Like this?" Long fingers slipped under her jacket and gripped her hips.

She breathed through the wave of excitement his touch caused. "Exactly. Now, I won't be able to hear you once we get going so, we'll have to communicate differently. One tap of your finger means yes or you're good. Two taps means no or stop. Got it?"

Jack's baritone whispered, "What if I want you to go faster?"

Her stomach flipped at his tease. They were already going fast, maybe too fast. From zero to sixty in a matter of weeks. She couldn't deny she'd never experienced anything like this before, felt herself falling hard for a man way out of her league. A tendril of doubt tried to edge out the confidence from a moment ago. This relationship would not crash and burn like all her others. "Three taps."

His chin tapped three times against her shoulder.

"Oh, you asked for it." She bit her inner cheek, using the pain as a distraction. Finding it hard to concentrate with Jack so near, she swallowed and released the brake. That would change once they got going. Nothing in life was more fun to her than the freedom of whipping around the track on her bike. "You're all mine now."

"Yes I am."

Excitement trickled down her spine. She revved the gear and then released the gas; the bike lurching to life. Jack's fingers dug into her waist and his helmet bumped into hers with the sudden acceleration.

Cold wind attacked her face as she pulled onto the track, offering relief from the heat on her back where he pressed against her. She swerved slightly, getting used to the additional weight and testing its influence on the bike's flexibility. The last rider she'd had was Luc, but he was so light he didn't affect the bike. Jack was an additional hundred pounds, at least. The motorcycle responded much the same, and Solana increased the speed.

Luc had tensed when she sped up. Jack didn't. Hands around her, he seemed content to let her have complete control. It was heady; him placing his life in her hands like this. As if he trusted her. Solana felt two taps on her shoulder and her fingers started to ease off the gas. Then the third tap hit. Her insides lurched as she sped up again, surpassing the speed limit.

Jack's grip shifted, one hand snaking its way up to her chest. She concentrated on the track as the lava only he ignited swirled in her lower half. The hand massaged her breast through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. Then it tugged the shirt up, freeing it from her waistband, and his fingers inched into the front of her pants.

Her cheeks flushed, and her thighs clenched around the pulsing metal of the engine. She aimed for the exit of the raceway, slowing down the bike as his fingers dove deeper into her clothing. With a jerk, the motorcycle came to a stop, and she flipped down the kickstand.

Bike abandoned, she grabbed Jack's hand and scrambled into the clubhouse. They bypassed the few men drinking beer to the back of the room. Kicking open the door, Solana shoved Jack into the women's bathroom. She jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as she mashed her mouth against his.

"Wait." Jack turned his head. "Someone might be in here."

The sizzle in her stomach roared. "Is there anyone in here?" Her shout echoed off the stall doors as she sucked at Jack's neck. His moan reverberated against her mouth. "Empty."

Hands, familiar now, found her bottom as Jack carried her to the counter and set her down. "Not for long." They both scrambled to undo buttons, remove clothes, make contact. Her core ached as she plastered her lips against Jack's and arched into him.

If you'd asked her a month ago, she'd say there was nothing better than taking a curve on her bike, the tires squealing as she sped; the engine vibrating between her legs. Now, kissing Jack Blackheart surpassed that high.