“Ugh. Here.” Brandon withdraws a granola bar from his work bag and forces it into my hands before walking past. He slings off his bag and sets it on the desk, sliding out his laptop. Noticing me balking, he rolls his eyes.
“Eat it, Kate. If I have to work with you, I’m not getting my head ripped off ‘cause you chose to skip breakfast.”
I yank off the shiny wrapper and shove a bite into my mouth, chewing furiously. “Who says I won’t rip your head off anyway?”
“Occupational hazard, I guess.”
I step around him and plop into the desk chair. He hangs his head sideways, gesturing at the contents of his bag already splayed across the tabletop.
“What?” I ask, my mouth still full of granola. “I got to the chair first.”
“The audacity,” he mutters, but a tiny lip twitch gives him away.
My own tiny grin betrays me.
Against my better judgment, I allow us to stare at each other. But then Brandon’s eyes drop to my mouth, and a memory seems to crash over us both.
four
PAST
BRANDON
The woman’s—Kate’s—lips crash over mine before I know what’s happening. That bossy mouth of hers—strawberry flavored, by the way—isn’t hesitant like it’s gauging my reaction. No, this kiss isn’t a question; it’s a demand.
And being the gentleman that I am, I’m more than happy to oblige.
My lips turn up against hers.
This whole situation throws me for a loop.I’mthe one usually pursuing women with my devastatingly good looks and charm. It’s a game I play frequently, but if I’m being honest, it’s gotten boring.
So when the sexiest woman I’ve ever met practically throws herself onto my motorcycle, I give in. Sue me.
I wrap my hands around her waist. She’s lean, but I’m surprised by the layer of solid muscle beneath her curves. I hoist her onto the seat of my bike, stepping close to her dangling legs.
Is it one of my signature moves? Maybe. But she doesn’t need to know that.
If anything, I have a feeling that Kate Chen and I are a lot more alike than we think.
After all, this woman ate concrete, almost wrecked my motorcycle,partially mooned innocent bystanders, and still played the whole thing off with sexy confidence. Color me impressed.
Out of the corner of my half-closed eyes, I spot my best friend, Tucker, shaking his head from beside his own motorcycle. I hear a faint rip from the notepad he always carries before something brushes my hand bracketing Kate’s hips on the bike.
I crack an eyelid at Tucker’s note and try not to laugh.
New wingman world record: 20 seconds.
You’re welcome. - Tuck
I wave him away before he can ruin this sanctioned moment.
As if she can sense my attention slipping, Kate tightens her hold, threading her fingers through the hair on the nape of my neck.
It’s like she found my kill switch, shutting down what logical thinking I have left. Molten desire floods my veins, and I know I’m in trouble.
In a matter of seconds, I fist my hands into her waist-length hair and press my body flush against hers. Her lips curve into a slight smile beneath mine, and I realize then that she’s toying with me. Like she thinks she’s in control, putting me through paces like some kind of show dog.
ButI’mthe predator, not the prey. Let this chick think what she wants.
