Nemesis on the Harley: My Wild First Ride into Forbidden Heat
The beach dunes stretched under summer stars. My heart hammered like a trapped bird. I’d lied to him: Nemesis, not Ludivine. Josh, the biker, gunned the Harley again. Naked. Both of us. Skin prickling in the night wind. This was it—no turning back. I’d spotted him at the jazz bar. Tall, built, sipping Jones Smith…