This was good. A solid start to my mission! If I played my cards right tonight, I could convince her that staying with me was better.
“It’s midnight,” I agreed. “Come on.”
I reached through the dark, felt—and fumbled—for her hands. They were warm. Slim.Steady.She let me draw her forward. When her feet hit the floor, I resisted the urge to pull her close.
“I need to dress,” she protested.
My dick twitched at the thought of her naked, but I was pretty sure I could see the outline of clothing.
Sliding my hands over her arms, I felt a tee shirt. My touch skimmed down her sides, and she shivered. The featherlight connection sent tingles of electricity through my veins. I wanted to strip her bare. Wanted to lick every inch of her soft flesh. When my fingers skimmed over her thighs, I felt the soft cotton of lounge pants.
“You’re good to go,” I murmured. “Tell me where your shoes are.”
“Enzo,” she moaned.
That name was music to my ears. In the gentle quiet of the bedroom, my very soul reached out to her. This wasn’t the same power that coursed through me when I chased her, caught her, and made her scream in release. It was something stronger. More enticing.
I released her hand, turned on the flashlight of my phone, and quickly found her suitcase. The sexy, wobbly little heels were the only shoes visible, neatly sitting beside it. They would have to do.
Returning to the bed, I bent. My fingers skimmed over her delicate foot, lifting it off the ground. Amanda clutched blindly for me. I paused to catch her hand, placing it on my shoulder and inhaling the creamy eucalyptus she wore as a lotion. It was pleasant. Earthy. But it didn’t hide the exotic notes of her signature scent. Once she balanced, I reached for her foot again and slid the shoe over her toes and hooked the back over her heel.
I repeated the process with the other.
Reverently, my hands slid up her calves, over the sides of her thighs. I clutched her hips and lifted my head to place a kiss on her belly.
There was nothing sexual in the gesture, although I had a raging hard on in my pants. Right now, he didn’t take precedence. This was about us—the real us.
Amanda hesitated, but then skated her fingers up the curve of my neck. They splayed against my scalp, and I let myself believe her touch was just as possessive as mine.
“So…pancakes.” There was a shy smile in her voice.
“Pancakes.” I rose and draped an arm around her shoulder.
Walking side by side the whole way, we ventured outside to where my bike waited in the backyard, the engine still humming.
“I am not—” Amanda shook her head, not finishing the sentence.
“Oh, yes, you are.” I gripped her wrist as I slung a leg over the sleek, matte black rocket. My thighs gripped the seat, balancing it, and then I pulled her hand, helping her mount behind me. Once she was seated, I passed her back the helmet.
Her sleepy scowl was cuter than hell.
She slammed the thing over her head, and I helped her with the strap before twisting to grab the handles. Her touch was hesitant at first, but as the engine revved, she gave up trying to be formal. She slipped her hands around my middle, hugging me tight as her thighs and knees clamped around me.
The feeling was pure torture.
My dick ached.
I shifted in the seat as the bike purred out of the backyard, into the clean, paved alley. Only when we jumped onto the street did I let the beast roar. Amanda’s grip tightened. I swore I could hear her muffled screams of terror as I made the bike dance, bending to the side to take tight turns, shooting forward in a wicked explosion. I didn’t do anything too stupid, not with such precious cargo. But I did zigzag through traffic at a red light, launching out first the moment green flickered above.
By the time we reached the diner, Amanda was shaking. I cut the engine, kicked the stand, and turned to her.
She kept a death grip on me.
Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, I pressed my forehead against the tinted visor. “Admit it, that was fun.”
“No. No, it was not.” Amanda sounded grumpy. Exactly how she did when she didn’t want to let on that I was right.
Chuckling, I lifted her off the bike. I dropped my arm over her shoulder and supported her wobbly, adrenaline-laced body into the restaurant.
