Page 106 of Fly Back to Me
I roll my eyes, sighing as I drop my head on two crossed forearms. “This is the last year I forget to play Mega Millions.”
A rumble gyrates against my elbow, and my chin peeps up to see the incoming text.
Cade: Okay, stupid question. But there’s a catch …
My brows dip as I sit straight to pick up my phone.
Me: ?????
Cade: I’m not taking you to lunch.
Me: I retract my acceptance of this invitation.
I’m smirking as I flick my eyes to the desk telephone, knowing I’m procrastinating making the necessary call I’m getting paid for right now.
I’ll get it done.
Eventually.
Cade: I want to do this in broad daylight, and work is going to be a little crazy the next week to get a moment. Still interested?
My eyes roam the sentence a few times, my stomach soaring with anticipation. Hell, I enjoy surprises. Especially if Cade’s delivering them.
Me: You’re lucky I brought lunch. And that you have a cute ass.
Cade: Glad that came through for me??See you at 12? 1?
Me: 1??
I grin as my heels tap along the concrete walkway, Cade just a damn pot of gold at the end of the sun rays. Literally.
Cloaked in all black from his leather jacket to his boots, he flashes a crooked smile in his straddled position. With one palm laying on his thigh, the opposite elbow rests on the handlebar of his bike. “Hey, girl.”
Ovary. Explosion.
My teeth ghost my bottom lip, a volcano erupting in my lower belly when I invade his space. Without waver, his elbow lifts from the chrome bar before the cool pelt of his glove caresses my cheek. His balmy lips seal to mine, and the tingle of his scruff leaks down to my core.
I fist the lapels of his coat, dragging him closer when our tongues touch. He cradles my chin between his sheathed fingers, a few tendrils of hair whipped across his Suddora bandana as he peers down at me. “My gloves aren’t dirty, don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare grease you up during work hours,” he murmurs, a smirk decorating his lips.
“New rule,” I purr. “Whenever you’re in these gloves, you touch me.”
He nods smugly against my lips. “That’s a good fucking rule. I think I can be a good boy and obey that.”
Our smiles crush with a kiss, notes of mahogany whirling under my nose as the delicate breeze snakes between us.
“Am I going to be okay in heels?” I murmur.
The tip of his nose nudges mine before his hand drops. “Iinstalled wider foot pegs for you.” Then he shifts in his seat, grabbing the helmet dangled from the chrome of the handlebar. “Besides, since when do you scare easily?”
“Since I’m wearing designer heels.”
“Am I supposed to sympathize with this?” he asks, extending the gear to me.
“Uhm,yes.” I gape down at my plaid work pants before pointing to my black heel. “They’re Jimmy Choo.” Then I’m straightening under Cade’s hooded stare.
“I can’t even make a legitimate joke back because I have no idea what the fuck that is.”
I roll my eyes as I pluck the helmet from his hand. “Only one of the world’s most famous designers.” My lips button to the side, eyes locking on the tire of his bike as I consider the future repercussions. “Hmm, I don’t know, my shoes are trickier than my clothes. I spent a fortune on these. Maybe we should just take my ca—”
