She frowns at me. “What did Detective Morgan want?”
“He told us the prosecuting attorney is thinking of taking your stalker off house arrest, pending his trial.”
“What? Why would they do that? He’s implicated in the disappearance of his girlfriend, and he forced his way into my home and held me hostage. What does he have to do, kill someone right in front of them before they see him as a serious threat and lock him up?”
I’ve never seen Emily rant like that before. I instinctively reach out and draw her into my arms, tucking her head beneath my chin.
“We’re not gonna let him get away with this. You and I are gonna pay that prosecuting attorney a little visit and make it clear that we’ll make sure every single person in this town knows he’s negligent in doing his job and putting lives at risk if he takes this guy off house arrest.”
She pulls back to look up at me. “You’d come with me and help me convince him?”
I stare down at this woman of mine, amazed that she still doesn’t get how much I care about her. I give her a succinct nod. “You had better fuckin’ believe I will. If talkin’ doesn’t work, I’m not above a little intimidating.”
She smiles at me. “I’ll bet intimidating people who piss you off is your go-to move, but I don’t know if intimidating public officials is the best choice in this particular situation.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes, sweetness. And I truly fuckin’ mean that.”
I jerk my chin towards the door and ask, “You want to head out and catch them bright and early, or do you need to eat breakfast first?”
“I want to go now,” she replies. “Let’s get to them before they have a chance to make that order.”
I lead her outside to my Harley. My bike looks good in the morning sun. It’s angled just enough for the light to catch the chrome. I can tell by the way she runs her hand over it that she likes the look of it. In my world, this beautiful woman might just as well be running her delicate hand over my cock, for how excited it makes me to see her enjoying my bike so much.
Emily is proudly wearing my cut for all the world to see. Seeing my name on her back in broad daylight makes the whole situation real for me in a way that last night didn’t. It settles something restless in my chest. I know she’s not really mine and this is about protection, but my savage brain just wants to throw her over my shoulder and lick her pretty pussy until she begs me to stop.
I reach into the saddlebag and pull out the helmet before she can ask. I hold it out to her. “This is yours.”
She takes it with both hands. It’s black with clean lines. She stops when she sees the back. Her fingers trace the lettering like she needs to make sure it’s real.
It says ‘Emily’ in an elegant script.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says, but her voice is softer and tinged with emotion.
“I did,” I reply. “You deserve nice things and your safety will always come first for me.”
She looks up at me then, something warm and unsettled moving through her eyes. “You’re a safety-first kind of guy. I notice that about you a long time ago.”
I snort before I can stop myself.
She smiles at that and starts trying to figure out how to put on the helmet. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle,” she admits.
“I know.”
Her eyebrows lift. “How?”
“You would’ve mentioned it,” I say.
That gets a quiet laugh out of her. “What you’re saying is that it’s a thrill a minute, right?”
“I think it is, but you’ll have to judge for yourself. Anyway, I’ll take it slow and easy. Tap my side if you need to stop. Hold on when we take off. Lean with me, not against me. Don’t fight the bike.”
She nods, listening closely.
“You good with all that?” I ask.
“I think so,” she says, then corrects herself. “I mean, I’m anxious but excited about riding with you.”
I respect her honesty. I always have. Stepping closer, I help her adjust the straps. Her chin lifts slightly so I can secure the buckle. Being this close to her I’m fighting the urge to kiss those pretty pink lips. I keep forgetting that we’re just pretending to be a couple.
