Page 69 of Fighting Mr. Knight

“Is that a—?”

“A Harley, yes.” We stroll towards my beauty. I do feel like I’m showing my favourite toy to the girl I fancy in the playground. I’d better be careful not to show off on the bike . . . out of my system and all that.

She eyes it apprehensively. “I was hoping for a moped or one of those Batman and Robin ones with a sidecar.”

My brows lift, amused. “You want to weave in and out of London traffic in a sidecar?”

She huffs her disagreement. “This thing looks vicious.”

“Nonsense,” I say as I open the locker on the wall. “She’s not meant to look good. She’s meant tofeelgood. Trust me.”

“Why do men call their toysshe?”

I shrug. “Only the ones we worship.”

“That would be romantic if you weren’t talking about a bike.” Her hand runs down the side of the bike tentatively. “How fast does this thing go?

“Nought to sixty in four to five seconds. Top speed is about 140 miles per hour.”

Horror settles on her face.

“Relax. I’m not testing that out with you. Here.” I hand her a size small helmet from my locker. “This one should fit you.” I pull out the smallest protective trousers and jacket set I have. “And these.”

She takes them from me. “You have a collection of leather outfits down here?”

I grin. “It helps to be prepared in case there’s a damsel in distress. Go on, put them on. You’ll thank me later.”

She scowls but reluctantly kicks off her running shoes and pulls the trousers up over her toned legs. “How many distressed damsels have been on the back of this thing,” she mutters. “I hope you wash these regularly. And by the way, this particular damsel is more distressed right now at the thought of being on the back of this beast rather than a nice safe run home.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” I pull my own lightweight leather trousers up over my jeans, much quicker than Bonnie. “I’m a safe biker.”

“I’m serious,” she says sharply. “You need to go slow.”

Her gaze trails down my leather-clad thighs.

I grab her by the waist and lift her onto the Harley. She gasps and a flush rises on her neck. This is already an enjoyable ride, and we haven’t left the parking lot.

“Bonnie,” I say to her seriously, “I wouldneverput you in danger. Come on, legs on either side.”

She swings her right leg over so she’s straddling the Harley. Lucky bike. “I’m quite high off the ground. I feel like I’m on a horse.”

I take her helmet and pop it on her head, inching close to her face to adjust it.

She has no option but to stare back at me as I buckle her helmet. I could do it quicker but what’s the rush?

God, she smells good.

She looks beautiful on my bike. My fingers tangle in a lock of blonde hair flowing from her helmet.

“Ready?” I ask softly.

She nods under the helmet. Her face looks heated. “Ready.”

I hop on the bike in front of her. I wrap her arms around my chest. “Hold on tight, darlin’.”

Her grip tightens around me as I turn on the ignition. I hold the clutch in and work the gears until the light comes on.

“Wait!” she calls out behind me. “You haven’t told me the rules. I lean into the turn, right?”

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