Part 5 of 5

"Don't DO that!" she squeaks and tries to regain her composure. His low laugh is right in her ear. She fumes, "If we crash, I'm going to tell everyone why and then everyone will know the truth about you!"

"Oh, dear, the truth! I'd better behave myself then, hadn't I?" he whispers into her other ear.

She grumbles to herself, adjusts his hands to loop lightly around her waist, and turns the key. The bike starts up as if it's been waiting all this time to hit the road. They roll slowly out of the wild bit of jungle behind La Kaz and she turns left onto the street.

She keeps the speed slow for about half a block then realizes he is riding with ease, leaning and shifting his centre of gravity to counter-balance the bike. She opens the throttle a bit and by the time they reach the town limits, the wind is cooling them both and she feels a familiar tingling settling over her, the thrill of speed. It isn't for several moments before she realizes this is not exactly the same tingle she remembers from all her years of buzzing around the island.

She leans back into him and the tingle intensifies. She smirks. Nope. Not the same tingle at all. He must be feeling something too because his hands are sliding up her torso and she can't (won't) spare a hand to put him in his place. "Keep that up," she calls back over her shoulder where his chin nestles so warmly, "and I really WILL crash."

"But," he calls back, "I feel so much more secure when I have a really good grip on you."

She sees his lane-way coming up and she somehow knows this was her destination all along. As she slows down and they lean into the turn, his thighs grip her hard and she is suddenly glad he has no close neighbours to see where his hands are right now. She pulls up to the tree she'd hidden behind 2 years ago, slams down the kickstand, kills the engine, and flings a leg over the handlebars to spin in his arms.

She meets his rush with avarice and now she is gripping him just as hard. All in all, she prefers this hold to the one she'd had on the bike. He groans and she hears the saddle answer as his thighs tighten down further. She shoots to her feet and hauls him up so they are standing above the bike. "OK, my little biker-boy," she growls, "Time to take this ride inside and out of public view."

He laughs low and mutters, "Me a biker-boy, that's rich. Two-Pups would scream blue murder."

She pauses in pushing at his shoulders, "Who? What?"

He shakes his head, "Never mind, just a relation that likes to play at being a biker-boy." He looks Camille up and down with great pride, "And he would kill to find a woman like you. Poor Two-Pups."

Camille rolls her eyes and starts pushing again, "Never mind this Two Puppies. I don't CARE about this Two Puppies. All I care about is this fine dog I have right here." She pushes and he backs up.

"OK, fine," he murmurs, "but I warn you, sooner or later you're going to meet some of my family and they are a decidedly odd lot. They make ME look normal."

She is kissing and pushing and fretting, "Don't care, don't care, don't care, no more talk of family unless it's about the one we are going to start real soon now."

He nods vigorously, "Oh, well then, it's a deal. My lips are sealed." He mimes zipping his lips.

She watches this with avid interest, licks her own lips, "Double oh well then, we'll see about THAT!" He laughs and she growls and it is a bit of a shuffle but she's gratified they make it off the bike without breaking a leg, a sweat, or their kiss.

She backs him all the way to his kitchen door, which he somehow unlocks without turning around and just as they are poised on the threshold, he murmurs, "Completely off topic but… don't tell Dwayne."

Her eyes flare, "Dwayne!? What's he got to do with this? You don't talk about us at work, do you?"

He jerks alarmed eyes to hers, "Talk about it? I can't even think about it! I'd never get anything done and criminals would have free rein of the island if I allowed myself the utter bliss of thinking about us during the day. No, I meant don't tell Dwayne I enjoyed riding your bike. He's sure to be miffed."

She closes the door and scoffs, "Oh, miffed, I see. No, we don't want to miff Dwayne, do we?" Now they pull off clothing and mount the stairs, their goal in sight. As she pushes him down onto the gauzy cloud that is their bed, she murmurs, "Besides, Dwayne would get it. He wouldn't be miffed."

He opens his eyes briefly, "He wouldn't? And why not?"

She settles atop him, sinking into the green heaven awaiting her, sighing, "Because it wouldn't be me on the big bike giving you such a secure hand-hold, would it?" She brushes against him. He shivers.

"No," he croaks faintly. "If you were…" Words fail him.

"If I were," she whispers against his lips, "you'd be on the big bike all the time, wouldn't you?" He nods. It's all he can manage. His eyes are almost closed again, just narrow slits of malachite.

"Now," she chides low, "you fondled the leather saddle of my bike earlier. Tell me, Inspector, is it as nice as MY saddle? Hmm?" He shakes his head in surrender, pulling her in tight, tighter, just right.

"I didn't think so," she growls and captures his mouth, surging onto him wildly, opening the throttle full bore, revving into deep-throated overdrive, and runs away with him.

END

**'Two Pups' is Johnny Two-Dogs in the movie 'There's only one Jimmy Grimble'. If you haven't seen it, OldProfof1942 says it's on Amazon Prime but I warn you, approach with caution.**