In My Skin Read Online Free Page A

you're wearing is perfect. I thought we could take the bike?” She arched an eyebrow in silent question when my head popped back up.
    "The bike? As in the motorcycle?” I think my gulp might have been audible. “Uh, okay...” I straightened my shoulders, firmed up my voice and smiled. “Sure, why not?"
    Chaise was quiet for a moment as she stood there looking at me, a strange light in her eyes.
    "What?” I asked a little hesitantly.
    She shook her head. “Just you. Nothing fazes you for long, does it? I think you might have an adventurer's heart.” She smiled and reached out to touch her fingertips to my cheek.
    I turned my head into the caress, but could find no reply to her words.
    Chaise disappeared through a door, which I assumed led to her bedroom, and reappeared ten minutes later dressed in jeans, a heavy cotton shirt over a white t-shirt and with her hair lying in a thick braid down the centre of her back. She was carrying two crash helmets, one black, the other red. She handed me the black one and led the way down another flight of stairs to the garage. She pressed a button and the door opened automatically, letting the evening light flood in and glint off the shiny paintwork of the motorcycle. She rolled the bike out into the narrow lane at the side of the building and swung her leg over it.
    "Okay?"
    After only the briefest of pauses, I nodded, put on the crash helmet and got on the bike behind Chaise. She seemed to sense that I didn't know what to do with my hands, because she reached back, brought them around her waist and linked them together at her stomach. I jumped, startled when she turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. We moved slowly along the uneven surface of the lane, then pulled out onto the main road. When Chaise picked up speed I clutched at her, my body tense. I quickly realized that Chaise was a better than competent driver. She controlled the bike with the confidence and ease of experience, weaving effortlessly through the last of the rush hour traffic. I was a touch jittery on the city streets, and my grip on Chaise's waist was perhaps a little tighter than was strictly necessary, but if it bothered her she didn't show it. When we got outside the city, onto the quieter country roads, the tension in my muscles started to recede, and I was gradually able to relax and enjoy the way the warm evening air whipped at my clothes, the feel of Chaise's back against my breasts, and the vibrations of the bike running through my body.
    Chaise brought us to a little cafe-bar. We sat on the terrace, shared a pizza, drank club soda and watched the pleasure boats glide up and down the water. It was a perfect summer evening; a warm breeze rustled the leaves on the trees, music drifted from the boats, and the high-spirited chatter of the cafe's other patrons all combined to create a relaxed and carefree ambience.
    We talked with the ease of old friends about nothing of any real consequence, just the trivial little things that such languid evenings inspired: our favorite books, which stores we liked to shop at, and we discovered a mutual love of Saturday morning kids TV. For a moment I had a vision of the future—Chaise and I sitting on the sofa in jammies, eating Cheerios and watching Scooby Doo. I smiled at my own silliness.
    When the sky started turning shades of violet and deep red, we headed back to the city. It was a little cooler on the return journey and when we got off the bike in front of Chaise's garage, I felt chilled. She came around the bike to me and rubbed her hands up and down my arms.
    "Why don't you come upstairs for a coffee to warm you up, then I'll walk you to your car?"
    I nodded and followed her up the stairs.
    While Chaise prepared the coffee, I took a seat on one of the sofas, scrunching back into the corner and hugging a fluffy cushion to me in an effort to warm up.
    "I should have given you more warning about the bike; given you the chance to bring a jacket.” Chaise