“NOT SO FAST,” replied Riley. “70 MILES AN HOUR? I CAN GO FASTER IF YOU LIKE?”“NO!” I said. “THIS IS FINE!”As we passed under Brooklyn Bridge and came up by midtown, I felt the boat slowing, and eventually, I saw the prow of the boat bend down as we came level with the water. Completely unfazed by the incredible speed at which we’d been traveling, Riley steered the boat into the harbor, towards a jetty on Manhattan’s side of the East River.Once we’d come to a stop by the jetty, he pulled up a rope by the deck, and looped it into a lasso. He lobbed the knot over the side of the boat, and I watched, amazed by the accuracy of his throw, as the rope landed over one of the capstans on the jetty and Riley pulled it tight. And once again, I savored the view, the curves of his muscular arms and strong shoulders, and felt an amazing sense of triumph at having been carried across land and sea by Lowe.***The car felt still and peaceful after the incredible time on the speedboat. He drove u
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