“Youride a motorcycle?”
Knox smirks as he reaches for the helmet hanging off the handlebar. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“I thought your driver took you everywhere.”
He cuts me a hard stare. “Clearly, he doesn’t. I collect motorcycles. This is the latest addition.” He lifts the helmet toward me. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not getting on that thing with you.” I shake my head, defiant.
“Well, we’re not walking all the way to the Hamptons.”
“I’ve never ridden a motorcycle with someone I don’t trust.”
He doesn’t even flinch at my remark. “Good thing you don’t have to trust me. You just have to hold on.”
“This is crazy.”
“So you keep telling me.”
Before I can step back, he shrugs out of his jacket and catches my arm, pulling me closer.
“What are you doing?”
“You need to put this on,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”
It’salreadycold. All I’m wearing is the loose, paint-stained shirt I use when I’m working and a pair of yoga pants.
He drapes the jacket over my shoulders and guides my arms into the sleeves. The leather is warm from his body, heavy with smoke, cedar, and something darker that shouldn’t make my pulse jump the way it does. It smells like him.
He slides the helmet over my head next.
I gasp. “You’re going to ride without a helmet?”
“I’ll be fine.” His gaze locks on mine. “You, not so much.”
“I don’t understand why this can’t wait until tomorrow.”
His fingers brush my jaw as he secures the helmet’s strap beneath my chin. “It can’t wait. And it won’t. Now drop it.”
The world narrows to the sound of the buckle snapping into place and the steady drag of his breath close to my ear. Then he steps back, pulls out a pair of dark shades from his pocket, and slips them on.
With effortless grace, he swings a leg over the bike and sits.
“Get on and hold on tight.” He starts the engine. The low growl vibrates through the night, and through me.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I hesitate beside the bike, staring at the space behind him like it’s a trap.
The engine’s low growl pulses through the pavement, steady and relentless, just like him.
How did I go from running a bath and planning to unwind with a glass of wine tothis?
I want to run, or damn it, scream from all the frustration. But what good would it do?
This is happening. And if I fight it now, it’ll only make things worse.
Worse forme.
