“You can’t go by yourself?”
“Aren’t you like my service human or something? If you’re afraid they won’t let you into the mall, I could always get you a little ‘working human’ vest. S
omething with a sign that says ‘no touching.’”
“Will that sign work on you too?”
“You’re my service human. I can pet you when I want to.”
He didn’t even look over his shoulder at her when he said it, but it stoked the heat between her thighs, and she cursed herself for not being able to orgasm after he’d left her room. The time constraint had weighed too heavily on her mind.
“Do you get anxious when you go shopping?” she asked more seriously.
“No. People don’t try to talk to me. I just need a second opinion.”
And here she thought she might actually have a chance to do her job. “A second opinion about what?”
He grunted. “You’ll see when we get there. It’s too much trouble to explain.”
When he opened the garage door, Minnow took a long minute to peruse the selection of cars – new, classic, all expensive. All pristine. Then there were the trucks. Four pickups, all new but all dirty. And the bikes. The motherfucking bikes. About a dozen hideous creations, in every shade of black. They looked like they belonged in Mad Max.
“Have you been on a bike before?” he asked skeptically.
“I’ve had my license since I was sixteen.” Against her parents’ wishes, which had been the best part.
His brows drew together as though his failure to make her nervous irked him. He grabbed a helmet and threw it to her, then slid on a pair of goggles that made him look like he was going to some sort of steampunk party.
“Well, you’re not driving any of mine, so get on the back.” He kicked his leg over a huge, ugly Frankenbike parked near the garage door, and she got on behind him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the warmth between her legs when she was snugged up against him.
“Is this one you made?” she asked, knowing it was just by looking at it. It had the same ugly, sexy arrogance as its creator.
“Yeah. All of these.” He didn’t seem impressed by his own work.
“Do I hang onto you or the bike?” she asked, not about to assume anything after his clear no touching rule.
“Me.” His overt nonchalance was far too nonchalant-y for her to believe it. He cared that she was going to be touching him.
As he started the bike and pulled out of the garage, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He flinched under her touch yet tolerated it. From Severin Leduc, tolerance felt like a small victory. She wished she dared to slide a hand under his shirt to feel all that muscle bared to her, but she knew better than to try it.
As he drove, the cold made her glad she could use him as a human windshield. The man threw off heat like a blast furnace, but she still wished she’d brought gloves. His proximity and the low growl of the bike between her legs kept her on edge all the way into town. He parked in the mall parking lot and walked toward the building without glancing back to make sure she was following. She trotted along at his heels like a good service human, and tried to dispel the sexy mental image of being on the end of this man’s leash.
He strode through the crowd milling around the entrance. People automatically melted out of his way. Handy. Maybe the next time she went to a concert she’d bring him along so she could get closer to the stage.
A shoe store had a BOGO event, and she gazed into the window just long enough to collide with Severin’s chest when he unexpectedly stopped and turned to face her. She bounced off, and he had to steady her so she didn’t end up on her ass.
“Ow.” She rubbed her forehead. “Do I have an imprint of your nipple ring on my forehead?”
He arched a brow in mocking amusement. “You should be paying attention to me, not sales. Service humans aren’t supposed to get distracted.”
“I’m poorly trained.”
“We’ll have to fix that.”
They stared at each other, and the flutter in her lower belly amplified.
Don’t think about leashes, Minnow. Don’t think of him training you to his own specifications.
“Why are we here?”