Page 23 of All Wrong
She started walking again.
“Why not?” he prompted, staying beside her. “You got a thing against bikes?”
“Not at all. I love motorcycles.”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything. Just kept walking. Now, he knew how other people felt when he pulled the same move.
He exhaled. He wasn’t good at this shit, because he didn’t do it often. If a woman wanted to walk home, that was her business. But this was different because it was Corinne. Suddenly, the well-lit streets were filled with shadows lurking behind every parked car.
“Corinne, get on the fucking bike.”
As he said it aloud, he realized how similar it was to what she’d told him the night before when he refused a ride from her. Clearly, she didn’t remember that because she put her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing with something—offense? Heat? Desire?—before she banked it.
“Excuse me?”
Did she get off on being bossed around? His groin tightened at the thought before he shoved the visual aside and hid his inner thoughts behind a smirk.
“You heard me. Unless you think you can’t handle it, in which case we’re both walking three miles.”
“You’d do it too, wouldn’t you?” she asked, one side of her mouth curling up.
“Damn straight,” he confirmed.
She muttered something, then said, “All right. Fine. Here.”
She held out her two bags. Nick stowed them in his saddlebags and mounted the bike.
She climbed on behind him, her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. He felt her legs on either side of his hips, but she kept some distance between them. Part of him wished desperately to feel her pressed up close against him.
“Got a helmet?” she asked as her hands settled at the side of his waist. He sucked in a breath at the feel of them.
“Nope. I’ll take it slow.”
“Don’t go easy on my account,” she told him.
Challenge accepted.
He grinned and hit the throttle. She whooped a little at the sudden acceleration and gripped him tighter, scooching up close until her breasts pressed against his back and her fingers splayed across his abs. The sound of her joyful laugh was like music to his ears. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her laugh before, but now that he had, he wanted to hear it again and again.
As they neared the turn to her apartment building, she said, “Can we take the long way?”
Fuck yes, they could.
He kept going, out to the edge of town, then back down along the river. It was a perfect night for a ride.The cool air against his face was a nice contrast to the heat at his back. He was aware of every touch and flex of her fingers, curling around the turns, flattening along the straightaways. The sensation of her cheek pressing into the hollow between his shoulder blades felt like a gentle brand.
He didn’t want the ride to end, but he couldn’t think of a good reason to extend it, and she didn’t ask again. He would have driven all night if she’d wanted to.
He pulled into an empty parking spot and cut the engine. She hesitated, then gave him a brief, final squeeze before dismounting. Or at least, he thought she had. Might’ve been wishful thinking on his part.
“That was wonderful. Thank you,” she said, looking up at him with a genuine smile. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling like iridescent blue gems. She was absolutely stunning.
“You’re welcome. You rode like a pro.”
“Wasn’t my first time.”
Something ugly clawed at his chest at the thought of her being on the back of anyone else’s bike. What the hell was wrong with him?
