Page 64 of Vicious Temptation

I let out a hollow laugh. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Turning my back on him, I head for the exit. “Get out.”

“Where are you going?” he asks, following me.

We step into the parking lot, and he waits while I lock up and arm the security system.

“None of your business,” I toss over my shoulder as I walk toward my bike.

“Let me take you out for drinks,” he says. “Or a late dinner if you’re hungry. Nothing fancy. We can keep it quick.”

I won’t deny I’m getting a little enjoyment from making him work for it. Stopping beside my bike, I slowly turn to face him.

“Oh, so you think I’m the kind of woman who deserves a quick, cheap meal?”

“Fuck. No.” He runs a hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant.”

The smile I’ve been fighting finally breaks through. “Relax. I’m fucking with you.”

His eyes narrow. “You enjoy this way too much.”

“Maybe I do.” I reach for my helmet. “But I’m not going home. I have a client waiting for me.”

“A client?” His focus intensifies. “What sort of client?”

I should be annoyed because if his reaction means what I think it does, then what right does he have to judge me? And why the hell was that his first thought?

Rolling my eyes, I grab my helmet, but he steps in front of me before I can put it on.

There’s a fire behind those pretty brown eyes that wasn’t there a second ago, and suddenly I see another side of him. He’s not just the chivalrous, apologetic guy he keeps showing me. There’s something darker beneath, something possessive that has no business making anticipation burn beneath my skin.

Especially when my mind immediately goes to his touch and to the memory of his lips on mine.

Remi, no.

“I’m trying here,” he says, quieter now.

Something about that admission takes some of the fight out of me.

“I take clients at Venom & Velvet Ink. I got called in tonight.”

“Tattoos?”

“Yeah.”

The tension in his face disappears so quickly I almost laugh.

“Cool.”

I shake my head, unable to suppress another smile. “See you around, then.”

As I try to step around him, he shifts with me, putting himself right back in my path.

“Can I come with you?”

“What?” I stare at him. “Absolutely not. I told you, we’re not friends.”

“You also said you owed me.”

Bastard.