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This summer, I’d planned to celebrate my eighteenth birthday in Europe with my fellow Manhattanites—Taddy Brill, Blake Morgan, and Vive Farnworth—until I caught my boyfriend screwing my mother. According to the police report, this vomit-inducing incident happened around the same time I’d supposedly blown-up my mother’s penthouse. Like I’m walking around Soho with a stick of dynamite in my Louis Vuitton purse—not! Now, my besties and I are in jail.
Officer Ford Gotti, the Harley-wheelin’ biker cop who arrested us, keeps sticking his perfectly-sculpted nose into my case. His inked body is jacked like a superhero, and he says I can trust him. He wants me to fess up. I won’t. Not again. Why should I? My friends and I had a previous stint in juvie that nearly destroyed us. I gotta protect them and keep my mouth shut. Right?
—Lex Easton, women’s studies major, motorcycle enthusiast, and virgin.
The Undergrad Years is a New Adult contemporary miniseries about first loves, independence, and everlasting friendships. Interact with Avery while reading Love, Lex on Instagram and Twitter @AveryAster using the hashtags #UndergradYears #NewAdult. Swag and reader contests can be found on Avery’s blog
Excerpt from Chapter Seven: The Ride of My Life
*the set up: Lex and Ford go for a ride on his motorcycle
The bike rolled into the garage and stopped. Ford pushed a button, and the garage lights came on as the door closed. Kicking the stand, he got to his feet and cut the engine.
Mindful of where I sat, he lifted his leg and got off the bike. When he removed his helmet, I noticed his eyes weren’t as dark as before. They had hints of hazel in them. His brow furrowed into a straight line when he caught me staring at him.
Quickly, I looked down at the bike and reached up to take my helmet off.
“Allow me.” His big hands came under my chin. He tilted my jaw upward. “Such a beautiful face, Lex. I like looking at you.”
I’d heard the “pretty face but” backhanded compliment my entire life. I waited for him to say, “But your body could use some work.” Or my personal favorite, “It’s a shame you forgot to take care of the rest of you.”
Ford didn’t say anything of the sort. He studied me just as he did back in the jail, from head to toe. I’m so uncomfortable. Not because of anything he’s doing, but because usually that is when men, and sometimes women, stop looking at me all together.
He unfastened my chinstrap and teased, “Let’s see if your hair has static.”
Trying to stand, I laughed nervously.
“Stay seated.” He removed my helmet and placed both his and mine behind me. He swung my right leg to the left side of the bike, framing my body with his. He cupped my face in his hands.
Hot cop fantasy? Heck no. This was real. He was going to…
Ford licked his bottom lip. His facial features strained, becoming serious. The tip of his nose touched mine. I smelled mint when he exhaled. “No roommate. Yup, I live alone.” Then he kissed me.
My head fell back into his grip.
With determination, he tongued me, deeply, clockwise, oh yes even his flippin’ tongue was strong and precise, just like the way he weaved his bike through traffic.
Enthusiastically he unbuttoned the straps on my overalls and then without even looking, still lip-to-lip, he worked the closure on the left side then the right. The denim flaps fell to the front and the back.
“Stand for a sec.” Ford lifted me up in the air as if I were a weightless feather. He planted both my feet on the ground, and then he shanked the overalls to my ankles.
“Ford—” Before I could finish whatever I was going to say, he lifted up my shirt and swiftly placed me back on the motorcycle. Worried I’d fall, I dug my back into the seat, reached for each handlebar, pulling myself up as I gasped and garbled some words.
He slid his fingers through the purple waistband on my underwear.
My entire body stood to attention.
“I want you naked so I can admire your body, and fuck you, on my bike.”
Air, I needed to breath. Afraid I might pass out, I inhaled through my nostrils and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Umm, Ford,” I whispered when he came in to kiss me again.
What the heck was I going to say? “Excuse me, but as hawt as this whole bike thing sounds, my Lady V and I would be more comfortable on a bed, sofa, or even the floor.” I felt as if I might knock the bike over any second now.
“Nervous?” Ford sensed my apprehension.
“Very,” I replied without thinking.
“I told you not to be.” He re positioned himself holding my legs over his right shoulder.
The panties came off. Then he lifted one leg and rested it on his other shoulder. Leaning down, his hands scooped under my back and unfastened my bra. No directions necessary. This dude could do this undressing thing, in the dark.
“But Ford, ya see, I’m—”
That tongue of magic. Thick and velvety, warm and wetter than the spot between my legs, Ford slipped back into my mouth. This time he rotated counterclockwise.
Dang. Ford is an Olympic kisser. For round two, I braced myself in his arms.
Legs spread wide, my ass still sat on the bike.
I’m a thirty-something New Yorker who lives on the Upper East Side. I write THE MANHATTANITES, a contemporary romantic soap opera of full length, stand alone novels, and it’s juicy prequel, companion series THE UNDERGRAD YEARS.My novels that are out now include UNDRESSED, UNSCRUPULOUS, LOVE LEX, and YOURS TRULY TADDY. In 2014 I’ll be releasing XO BLAKE, UNSAID, and UNIQUE.
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