‘Is my ego about to take another hit, Coco?’
She laughs nervously, the sound so cute and edgy I want to kiss her all over again.
‘No, this bike is all you.’
My chest puffs like a proud fucking peacock; it doesn’t matter that I know it’s ridiculous to be so pleased at her simple statement.
She strokes her hand over the sleek black frame, her teeth worrying over her bottom lip. ‘I’ve just never been on one before.’
‘I’ll look after you,’ I say, knowing just how true those words are, although guilt pricks all the same.
‘I know.’
She flicks me a quick look that tells me she means it too and I struggle to add, ‘It’s not far to my place anyway...as you already know.’
Her cheeks flush, and the contrast with her over-bright green eyes and her blonde hair makes her appear more fairy than princess. My mind races with all that I want to do to her, to do with her. And all that I wish I could tell her and can’t.
Christ.
I throw my focus into action, reaching for my leather jacket and holding it open for her. ‘Wear this.’
She hesitates a second before obediently slipping her arms in. Her scent reaches up to me, all soft and floral. I’ve only had one whisky—courtesy of Philip Lauren—but standing here with her so close I feel punch-drunk.
She turns to face me as she zips up the jacket, and I’m more than just punch-drunk. I feel winded. She looks small, dwarfed by the black leather, but it’s not that—it’s the hit of possessiveness that comes over me.
‘I must look a sight,’ she says, suddenly coy, and I realise I’m practically scowling at her—idiot.
‘Believe me, that’s the least of your problems right now.’
She frowns. ‘How so?’
I can’t answer her. Putting a voice to my thoughts will make them far too easy to act upon.
I take up my helmet and she forgets her question, delivering another instead. ‘You’re not putting that on me?’
‘Too right I am.’
‘And what about you? Where’s yours?’
‘I only have one, and there’s no way I’m risking anything happening to your cute little face.’
I expect a laugh, or a rebuke at my overprotectiveness. Instead she drags her teeth over her lower lip, her cheeks flushing deeper. She must be used to compliments. People must throw them at her like confetti. So why does it feel like she’s hearing them for the first time with me?
The idea pulls at my chest. I focus on putting the helmet on her instead and tightening it. Really. Well. ‘You okay in there?’
She nods and tries to smile, the cushioned front to the helmet giving her a hamster expression.
I grin. ‘Suits you.’
‘Something tells me I don’t want to ask why.’ Her voice is muffled by her squished cheeks, and I laugh. I can’t help it. I laugh even harder when she tries to scowl at me, her green eyes shooting daggers before I slip the visor down.
‘Come on.’
I swing my leg over the bike and gesture for her to get on behind me. She places her hand on my forearm as she clambers on and scoots in close, her arms tight around my middle. I try to take a breath, but my chest feels closed in.
She leans her head over my shoulder. ‘Ready when you are, bad boy.’
I turn to look at her and curse the visor that hides her eyes from me. ‘Bad boy?’