I had never paid much attention to celebrity gossip or what was going on in Hollywood because that was so far from the lifestyle I lived as a poor college student, working as a barista to save up for my own house after graduation. But then, without...
I got ready really fast, pulling my hair into a ponytail and throwing on some jeans, a t-shirt and tennis shoes. Before long, I was standing in Dylan's airport hangar-sized garage that was full of luxury vehicles, staring at the coolest looking motorcycle I had ever seen.
"After seeing your car and now this, are you sure you aren't Batman?" I asked, and he busted out laughing.
"Not yet, but if the part came up, I would sure as hell audition for it," he said with a smirk as he handed me a helmet and then put one on himself.
"Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?" he asked, helping me fasten my helmet under my chin when he saw that I was struggling.
"A few times when I was younger, but it didn't look anything like this. What is that thing?"
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"It's a Suzuki Hayabusa, the fastest two-seater motorcycle in the world. It can go up to two hundred and seventy five miles an hour," he told me proudly as he patted the seat of it.
My eyes widened and my eyebrows raised as I swallowed hard. "You do realize going that fast would scare the ever loving shit out of me, right?"
He laughed and gave me a smile. "I'd never go that fast, especially not with you on the back."
I hesitated, standing there with my arms crossed across my chest. "I don't know if I wanna get on that thing with you. First you had the fastest car in the world and now the fastest motorcycle? I'm starting to get the impression that you're obsessed with speed or something."
"Nah, not really," he shrugged. "I just like having the fastest vehicles because they're in higher demand and hold their value longer."
He could tell I wasn't convinced, so he said, "Look, I promise I'll go the speed limit. We just need to go on a motorcycle because it'll help us get around the traffic jams on the interstate."
He stepped closer, pulling me against him and giving me a soft kiss. "We might even get there with enough time to have another go at it in my dressing room," he said with a sexy smirk.
"What? You're crazy!" I laughed, shoving him away and rolling my eyes with a smile. "Is that all you ever think about now?"
"I was just joking," he laughed. "Unless you want to. If so, then I was totally serious."
"Dylan!" I shouted, smacking his arm with a laugh. "Don't you ever get enough?"
"Of you? No," he smiled. "Come on," he said, throwing his leg over and sitting down onto the motorcycle, patting the seat behind him.
I slowly walked over and swung my leg over, sitting down on the black leather seat and scooting up close to him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
He started it up and the motor rumbled as he revved it and then kicked up the kickstand, walking it backwards until he could drive it out of the garage and then down his long driveway. He used a remote to open his gate and as he drove through it, I saw a couple paparazzi vans parked outside and as we turned onto the street they started following us.
