“I thought you left?” Cam said, coming around the bar.
His black dress pants hung dangerously low on his hips, but were belted into place. Peeking just a little above his waistband was the thick band of his grey boxers. The lighter color drew my eye like a thief to an open bank vault.
“Is Roxie around?” I asked, forcing myself to look anywhere but at his narrow hips.
He shrugged. “Something wrong?”
“My car won’t start.”
“I’ll look at it.”
“I already did. It’s too dark to see anything.”
“You know about cars?” he said, his brows rising halfway up his forehead.
“Well, no.”
He laughed, grabbed a black leather jacket, and went toward the door of the bar. “Come on.”
I followed him out into the darkness and directed him to my traitor of a car. He popped the hood and bent over the engine. It was really hard not to notice how firm his butt looked in those pants.
“Turn the key, will ya?” he said, his head still out of sight.
I went and did what he asked, and the engine did nothing again.
“Battery’s dead,” he announced, slamming the hood.
I uttered a curse word.
“I’d give you a jump, but I brought my bike to work tonight.”
“How did the battery die?”
“You leave your lights on or something?”
I glanced down. My lights were in the on position. “How did that happen?” I muttered. “Wasn’t even dark when I came to work.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
I probably bumped it while I was sitting in here bouncing with nerves before my shift earlier. Geesh, today was not my day.
But then his words broke through the beating I was giving myself. “What did you say?”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“Maybe I want to.”
“Says the ladies’ man,” I quipped. It was more of a reminder to myself to not be taken in by that blond hair and dark stare.
“Say’s the boss who’s been married four times.”
“Touché.”
“It’s right over there.” He gestured to a black and silver crotch rocket against the building.
“I don’t know,” I murmured, climbing out of my car and chewing on my bottom lip.
“You ever been on a bike before?” Cam asked, slipping the leather jacket over his bare chest. Even still, I could see parts of his abs and the top of his boxers in the center where his jacket hung open.
I shook my head.
“This night is full of firsts for you, then, isn’t it?”
I felt my cheeks heat a little at the undertones of his words. I won’t lie; something warm began to swirl around inside me. “I can’t believe he hired me,” I mused.
“I knew he would. You’ve got this sweetness about you that no one else in that place has.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“It’s a good thing. Trust me.”
Trust him. I didn’t even know him. But I wanted to. I was tempted. Boy, was I ever tempted.
He pulled the bike away from the wall, rolling it forward and straddling the black seat. He looked so in control, so powerful sitting there with all that metal and steel between his legs.
“So what’s it going to be, Harlow?” he said, a slight challenge in his voice. “You want a ride?”
If I didn’t get on that bike, I would regret it forever.
I nodded and stepped forward.
He pulled a black helmet off the back of the bike and held it out. “Here.”
“Where’s yours?”
“This is mine.”
I shook my head. “You take it.”
He rolled his eyes and climbed off the bike, making sure it was steady before leaving it to stand in front of me. Without saying a word, he reached up and pulled the band out of my hair. Dark strands fell over my head and his arm, tickling my shoulders.
He held out the band, stretching it with his fingers so it was wide. “Here,” he said, gesturing to my hand. I held up my arm and he linked our fingers, sliding the band over onto my wrist.
But he didn’t pull away just yet.
Instead, he wrapped his fingers around mine, sliding down to circle my wrist where the pad of his thumb brushed over the thin, sensitive flesh on the underside.
“I like your hair down,” he murmured, lowering my arm and his hand to step just a fraction closer so he could bury his nose in the hair that fell over my ear.
My heart was beating so hard that it was the only thing I could feel. Well, that and the way his even breathing tickled the soft strands and echoed into my ear. My thigh muscles clenched together and I stood stock still because I was afraid if I moved I would melt into a puddle at his feet.
Cam pulled back, releasing his gentle grip on my wrist and looked down. When our eyes met, I felt the crackle of desire surround us, and then he smiled. He had a dimple in his left cheek.
“I’ll help you,” he said, his voice brushing along my exposed nerve endings and making me shiver. “You cold?” he asked, frowning.
“No.”
I caught the look of recognition in his eyes when he reached up and brushed the hair behind my ear. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. In fact, I would guess he enjoyed it.
Two could play that game.
I hooked a finger beneath the bowtie around his neck. “I like this,” I said, trailing my finger along the fabric that wrapped around his neck.
“Yeah?” he asked after a moment, his voice tellingly hoarse.
“Mm-hmm.”
“It’s itchy.”
I made a clicking sound with my tongue and slid my finger all the way around so my hand was caught between the leather of his jacket and the warm skin of his neck. His body stiffened just a little as my fingers brushed over him as I found the clasp that held the bowtie in place and undid it, causing it to fall away. Using my palm, I smoothed my hand around the base of his throat again and then pulled back to look up. “That better?”
He didn’t say anything but swallowed thickly, and I gave him a little smile, tucking the bowtie in the pocket of his jacket. He cleared his throat and pulled the helmet down over my head. It was heavy and a little too big. I felt if I didn’t hold my head perfectly straight, the weight of it would topple me over.
“I look like a bobble head.” I complained as he adjusted the strap beneath my chin.
“A little,” he agreed and smirked.
Before I could insult him back, he closed the face shield on the front and straddled the bike again.
“Climb on,” he instructed.
Thank goodness I was wearing shorts. I swung my leg up over the side and sat down. The seat was narrow and not really comfortable. I held myself stiffly, trying not to slide into him, but the way the seat angled it was kind of hard not to.
I placed my bag between us and then he grabbed my legs just beneath the knees and pulled. My body came up against him all at once. My breasts pressed up against his back and it occurred to me that I never put my bra back on once I was finished working. He was completely solid all over, there was nothing but my thin tank and his jacket separating my skin from his, and… he was now sitting between my thighs.
The bike came to life beneath us, rumbling and vibrating my legs all the way up into the center of my crotch. Cam reached behind him, taking my arms and looping them around his waist, where the sensitive skin of my wrists brushed against his middle. When I thought he would pull away, he didn’t, instead he flattened his palm against my hands, sandwiching them between the smooth skin that pulled taut over his ribs. His skin was warm, like it never lost the heat it soaked in during all his time in the sun.
“Hold on,” he yelled over his shoulder, still pressing my hands against him before letting go and grabbing the handles.
The bike began to glide over the pavement, and I found my arms tightening around him just a little bit more. We moved slowly at first. He was very good at maneuvering the bike through the parking lot, and I began to relax a little. The nerves I initially felt when climbing on this bike dissolved a little with every passing second.
And then he turned onto the main road.
The bike quickly picked up speed. I squeezed my eyes shut against the blurry scenery around us. I wasn’t sure I was meant to travel at this speed. All the tension in my body came back plus some, and I held myself rigidly, afraid if I even shifted once it would throw the bike sideways and we would barrel into oncoming traffic, or worse, fall over.
I didn’t notice the way his body shook at first because everything on this bike was shaking—vibrating from the hum of the engine—but this was different.
He was laughing.
“What?” I screamed and then squeezed my eyes shut, sure that just my talking was going to make us crash.
His shoulders shook more. “You’re scared!” he yelled over his shoulder.
“Am not!” I yelled like a petulant five-year-old.
His hand, large and warm, covered mine where I was gripping at his chest and he gave it a light squeeze. I was about to yell at him for only driving with one hand when he spoke again. “I got you.”
Three words.
How could three little words cause something inside me to bottom out and then swell with emotion?
I got you.
They weren’t even particularly exciting words. But there was something about the way he yelled it while he covered my hand with his. It was like instead of asking me to trust him, instead of telling me not to be scared, he was
showing
me.
And I believed him.
My muscles relaxed; they quivered slightly from the exertion of being so tense. Suddenly, I realized I was plastered up against him. It seemed every part of my body touched him. I practically wrapped myself around his body in a giant bear hug. Even my ankles had hooked themselves around his calves.
If I hadn’t been wearing such a massive helmet, I had no doubt that my cheek would be pressed against his back and my hair would be trailing behind us as he drove.
It was just one more reason to hate this helmet.
I opened my eyes and looked around, really looked.
Because of the late hour, the roads weren’t filled with traffic like they usually were. All the shops, the tattoo parlors, the bars, and restaurants were lit up with bright neon lights and large signs. As we moved, the lights whipped by us, creating a blur of color in my line of sight.
The air outside was hot, but traveling like this, the wind pulled at my clothes and body. It brushed over my skin, creating goose bumps in its wake, and I huddled just a little bit closer to his warmth.
Just as I was starting to enjoy the ride, the bike downshifted beneath me and slowed as he turned off the main road and drove a short distance to an apartment building that rose up out of the concrete like some imposing force.
This wasn’t my apartment.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t even given him directions.
He stopped the bike in a spot by the curb and shut off the engine. I pried myself off his body and lifted up the face shield. “Where are we?”
“My place.”
“You live here?” I asked nervously as he climbed off and turned to face me.
“On the third floor. I’d invite you in, but I’m not that kind of guy.”
I snorted. I bet he wasn’t.
He laughed and gently pulled the helmet off my head. My hands automatically went to my hair because I knew it was probably mashed to my head like I’d been wearing a hairnet.
“So I didn’t kill you,” he said, hooking the helmet on the side of the bike.
“You didn’t bring me home either.”
“I figured we could grab my car and go back to the bar. I can jump your car and then you’ll be able to take it home. You might need it tomorrow.”
Actually, I did need it. “You have a car and a bike?”
He pointed to a vintage mustang convertible parked next to the bike. It was cherry red with a white ragtop. “Yep.”
Damn, I didn’t know what was hotter—the bike or the car.
“I like it,” I said, climbing off the bike. My legs felt funny, like the cells inside them were still vibrating—like they thought I was still riding on the bike. As I stood, I stumbled a little bit and fell against his chest. Automatically, his arms came up around my waist and I stood there in his embrace, completely dumfounded as heat rushed through my veins and scorched every active brain cell.
“Your legs will feel normal in a few.” His voice was a mere whisper; he didn’t have to talk loud because I was right up against him. He pulled back, still keeping his arms around me, and looked down. Our eyes met and the heat that had been rushing through me all drained into my stomach, pooling in the bottom of my belly and placing this heavy pressure down against my core.
I shifted, trying to get a little relief, but it made it worse because my body brushed against his hips.
Oh my God
. I was acting like some hormonal teenager.
I stepped back and he let me go, and I rushed to put some much needed distance between us. I didn’t know what was happening to my body, but it was losing its mind.
He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and went around to unlock the passenger side of the Mustang. I climbed in and breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind me. We didn’t speak on the way back to the Mad Hatter, and I busied myself with looking at everything but him.
When my car came into view, I wanted to scream with relief but decided that might be a little rude. He pulled the Mustang right up in front of my Toyota so the cables would reach from one battery to the other.
Before he climbed out of the car, I laid a hand on his forearm. He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “I really appreciate this, Cam,” I told him. “You don’t even know me and you’re going out of your way in the middle of the night to help me.”