Anthony sets down his chopsticks, his eyes never leaving mine. “What are you saying, Lila?”
The sound of my name on his lips still sends a thrill through me. “I’m saying that I know what I want. And slow doesn’t have to mean... glacial.”
A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features. “Noted.”
We finish our sushi, talking about easier things, like what books we’ve read. A few days after he’d left those books for me, he went back and bought them for himself and read them at the same time as me. All so we could talk about them when this day came. We talked movies, and TV shows we binged. I was not a fan of the character replacement for one of my favorite shows and even though he had never seen it; he agreed with me.
The conversation, though not at all sexual, has me clenching my thighs. His laugh, his happiness. The way he makes me feel like he really does enjoy spending time with me.
“Next time,” he says, handing his credit card to the server without looking at the total. “You can get the next one.”
Next time. The casual certainty of it warms me more than the sake did.
Outside, the January air hits me, cold and bracing after the restaurant’s warmth. I pull my sweater tighter around me, wishing I’d thought to bring something heavier.
“I just realized I need a ride back to Mia’s,” I say, my breath forming white clouds in the air. “She dropped me off, and I haven’t bought a new car yet.”
After the divorce, I didn’t want anything to remind me of Eli at all. It was legally in his name anyway, and I wanted as clean a break as possible. Mia and Valerie havebeen driving me around, but I know I need to get my own transportation soon.
“I’d be happy to take you,” Anthony says, gesturing toward the parking lot. “But all I have is the bike. Are you okay with that? It’s pretty cold tonight.”
I glance toward the sleek black motorcycle parked at the edge of the lot. I’ve never ridden one before, but the thought of pressing myself against Anthony’s back, feeling his body heat through our clothes, is too tempting to resist.
“I’m okay with it if you are,” I say, trying to sound casual.
He studies me for a moment. “You sure? January isn’t exactly ideal for your first motorcycle ride.”
“I’m sure.” I take a step toward the bike, then add, “Unless you’re trying to get out of giving me a ride?”
Anthony laughs, the sound warming the space between us. “Definitely not. Come on, then. Let’s get you geared up.”
At the motorcycle, he grabs his helmet off the seat. “This should fit well enough,” he says, placing it over my head. “And here, take my jacket, too. You’ll freeze in just that sweater. We’ll have to get you your own set as soon as possible.”
Before I can protest, he’s shrugging out of his leather riding jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing only a grey button-up shirt that clings to his chest and arms, highlighting the defined muscles I’d glimpsed that night in the VIP room. My mouth goes dry at the sight.
“Won’t you be cold?” I ask, even as he gently pulls the sleeves on each of my arms.
He shakes his head. “I’m used to it. And it’s not that far.”
The jacket is still warm from his body as I slip it on. It’s too big, of course, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips, but it’s heavenly warm and smells like him, that clean linen, woodsy scent I remember from the club.
“It looks good on you,” he says, something in his voice making me look up. His eyes have darkened, and I suddenly remember how he looked at me on those back steps, how he knelt before me in that VIP room.
I swallow hard. “Thanks.”
He helps me with the helmet, his fingers brushing against my neck as he fastens the strap. Then he swings his leg over the bike with practiced ease and looks back at me.
“Hop on and hold tight,” he instructs. “Lean with me when I lean, but otherwise just relax and let me do the work.”
I climb on behind him, settling myself on the small passenger seat. There’s nowhere to put my hands except around his waist, so I slide my arms around him, feeling the solid warmth of his body through his shirt. The contact sends electricity shooting through me, awakening parts of myself that have been dormant.
Anthony starts the engine, the motorcycle rumbling to life beneath us. The vibration travels up through my body, an unexpected sensation that makes me tighten my grip on him. I hear him inhale sharply and realize my hands are pressed against his abs, feeling the muscles tense under my touch.
“Ready?” he calls over his shoulder.
I nod, forgetting he can’t see me, then remember to shout, “Ready!”
We pull out of the parking lot and onto the main road, the cold air rushing past us. Despite the jacket and helmet, my legs are freezing where they’re exposed to the wind. I press closer to Anthony, seeking his warmth.
