Killian passed the side of the building and curved around to the back. The drive sloped downward into an underground garage that looked newer than the house. The car slowed and he pressed a remote on the sun visor—garage door opener, probably—and the car rolled forward again. “We’re going in through the garage.”
She didn’t see much as he pulled in. The garage was smaller than the one at Tremaine headquarters, but that wasn’t a fair comparison. The company was a huge multinational.
As soon as they were under cover and the garage door closed, she rolled down her window.
Dizzie whistled. They drove past a number of cars. Big cars, little cars. Cars she’d never seen before. She wasn’t a car girl. Bikes had always been her thing, but his garage could change her mind.
Then she saw it. “Holy shit.”
Killian pulled into a parking spot and she jumped out of the car. Momentum carried her past a half-dozen cars. Awe carried her past the rest until she stood in front of it.Her.Nearly four hundred pounds of gleaming metal and high-tech components.
Her body vibrated with barely contained excitement.
Killian stopped next to her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the masterpiece. “Is this what I think it is?” Her voice was quiet, almost reverent.
“The Turbosmith Excel.” He whispered back, amusement threaded through his words.
“Damn.” One syllable became three.
The motorcycle was top of the line, extremely expensive, and, next to its owner, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Drawn to the sleek silver lines, she stretched her hand out. Snatched it back. This work of art deserved more respect. “Can I touch her?”
Killian let out a strangled sound.
“I wasn’t going to hurt her.” It was insulting he’d think that. She shoved her hands in her pockets.
“No, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting that,” he croaked.
Tearing her attention from the bike took an act of will, but she checked to make sure he was okay.
Slouched against a support post and despite the ruined suit and dregs from the dump, Killian looked every inch the rich playboy. She’d seen that damn amused half-smile in countless tabloid stories.
Screw him.He could afford toys like this, but to her they were dreams. Ones that appeared in celebrity lifestyle vids or billboards ads. She wasn’t about to pass this opportunity up.
She stepped closer to the motorcycle. To the Excel. A bike this beautiful deserved to be called by her proper name.
Aware that she was just as grimy after their misadventure as Killian, she traced the curves of the motorcycle in the air, her finger hovering just above the sleek machinery. “Aren’t you a beauty,” she cooed. “So damn pretty.”
Chapter13
WatchingDizzie trail her fingers over the bike’s shiny finish was the hottest thing Killian had ever seen. He imagined her fingers stroking over his skin. His metal.
He shifted uncomfortably, his pants tighter than they had been minutes ago. This attraction was damned inconvenient.
Don’t be stupid, Killian.She might appreciate a well-made machine, but that didn’t mean she felt the same about cybernetic enhancements. His limited experience over the last few years had proven the opposite.
“Leave the damn bike alone,” he said with more bark in his voice than he’d intended. “We need to get inside.”
“In a minute.” She ignored him. Again.
Being ignored was a new feeling, one he didn’t like. His cars and other toys usually enhanced his appeal. They didn’t negate it.
Jealous of a fucking motorcycle. That was a new low.
Killian straightened and stepped away from the concrete pillar. He battled back the urge to pull her away from the motorcycle, to pull her to him.
“Can I take her for a ride?” Her blue eyes pleaded with him.
An image of her riding him flickered in his primitive brain. Desire flooded his system, nearly short circuiting his ability to form rational thoughts. She was going to be the death of him.
