hard bank

the ride.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the NICE toll gate, where a long line of vehicles waited to cross. The toll plaza was bustling with activity, the air thick with the sounds of engines idling and the occasional honk. As we slowly made our way forward, I turned around to catch Sanjana's eye.

"Do you like going fast?" I asked, curious to see her reaction.

She nodded enthusiastically, a playful glint in her eyes. "I love it when bikers go fast."

Her response was all I needed to hear. I grinned, feeling a surge of excitement as we finally passed through the toll gate. The moment we cleared it, I didn’t waste any time. I dropped gears and twisted the throttle, the bike roaring to life beneath us. Instantly, I felt her arms tighten around me, her grip firm but trembling slightly. I could sense her fear, but it was mingled with exhilaration—a cocktail of emotions that I found strangely intoxicating.

As we tore down the highway, the world around us blurred into streaks of color. The wind whipped past us, howling in our ears as the speedometer climbed higher and higher. Over the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind, I could hear her scream—not in fear, but in pure, unadulterated joy. Her excitement fueled my own, pushing me to test the limits of both the bike and myself.

We were well above the speed limit, flying down the road at 135 km/h, but that wasn’t enough. I shifted gears and accelerated even more, the needle on the speedometer inching closer to 163 km/h. The adrenaline hit me like a wave, flooding my senses. Her grip on me tightened further, her hands clutching my abdomen with such force that it almost hurt. But I didn’t mind the discomfort—in fact, I welcomed it. The sensation of her holding onto me so tightly was exhilarating in a way I couldn’t quite describe.

I craved more of that feeling, a strange impulse driving me to push the bike even faster. The engine roared louder as I pushed it to its limits. The thrill of speed combined with the warmth of her touch sent shivers down my spine. I had ridden faster before—230 km/h on a straight stretch of open road—but nothing compared to this moment. Was it the speed, her presence, or the combination of both that made this ride feel so incredible? I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t care. All that mattered was the intoxicating blend of adrenaline, speed, and the warmth of her hands on my abs—the very abs I had spent months sculpting.

“How do you like it?” I called out over my shoulder, my voice barely audible above the roar of the wind.

“I love it!” she shouted back, her voice filled with glee. “Go faster for me, please!”

Her words sent a jolt of pure exhilaration through me, and I couldn’t help but grin like a kid who had just been handed his favorite candy. I pushed the bike harder, the speedometer climbing higher as I felt her fingers exploring the contours of my abs, searching for a better grip. I glanced at the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of her face—she was blushing, her cheeks flushed with excitement and perhaps something more.

The sight of her blush made my own cheeks heat up, a redness creeping across my face that I couldn’t control. I tried to focus on the road ahead, but the feeling was overwhelming, almost distracting. As we raced down the highway, lost in the thrill of the moment, a signboard suddenly appeared in the distance, warning us of an upcoming turn. I barely had time to register it before Sanjana noticed it as well.

“We need to slow down!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the haze of speed and adrenaline.

I quickly eased off the throttle, decelerating as we approached the turn. We veered off the highway and onto the main road, the speed reducing to a more reasonable pace as we navigated through the city streets. The lights of the city began to glow around us, casting a warm, golden hue on the buildings and trees.

We finally reached her house, and I slowed to a stop at the gate. She dismounted the bike, pulling off her helmet and shaking out her hair. The streetlights illuminated her figure, casting a soft glow on her as she walked towards the gate. I watched her, momentarily entranced by the way she moved, the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, and the way her white top perfectly complemented her light blue baggy jeans.

As she turned around to hand me the helmet, I got off the bike and walked towards her. That’s when I really saw her—hazel brown eyes that sparkled in the dim light, beautiful straight black hair that framed her face, a small, sculpted nose, and tender red lips that seemed to invite a second look. The sight of her took my breath away, and I found myself lost in her gaze, unable to focus on anything else.

I was completely captivated, my thoughts consumed by her presence. I tried to snap out of it, to regain my composure, but it was no use. I was utterly spellbound by the way she looked, the way she carried herself, and the way her eyes seemed to look right into me.

“Here, take your helmet,” she said, her voice pulling me back to reality.

I blinked, realizing I had been staring. Embarrassed, I quickly took the helmet from her, trying to hide the fact that I had been completely mesmerized by her.