Page 49

Christ. She knew exactly what she was doing, the little brat. Testing my control when I couldn't do anything about it, couldn't pull over and show her what happened when she teased me like this.

"Light's green," she observed innocently, and I realized I'd been sitting there lost in the feel of her.

I accelerated harder than necessary, satisfaction flooding through me when she gasped and plastered herself against my back. Two could play this game. Every smooth gear shift, every controlled lean, I made sure she felt the power of the machine, the control I wielded over it.

By the time we reached the outskirts of town, she'd relaxed completely. No more death grip, no tension in her thighs. She moved with the bike like an extension of me, intuitive and trusting. Her helmet rested against my shoulder blade, and I could feel her looking around, taking in the scenery as the buildings gave way to trees.

The road to Rosewood's wound through the foothills, all gentle curves and elevation changes that made riding pure pleasure. Or it would have been, if Lena hadn't chosen that moment to start exploring. Her hands, which had been locked together over my stomach, began to wander. Just slightly. Just enough to map the terrain of my abdomen through my shirt.

"Beautiful view," she commented, and I wasn't sure if she meant the mountains or something else entirely.

"Lena." Warning in my voice that she cheerfully ignored.

"What? I'm just holding on. Safety first, right?" Her thumb found the gap between shirt buttons, nail scraping against bare skin.

I nearly drove us off the fucking road.

The bike wobbled slightly before I corrected, jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. "You trying to crash us?"

"Would that be my fault?" All innocence, even as her finger traced the line of hair that disappeared into my jeans. "I'm just following instructions. Holding on tight. Being a good passenger."

"Brat," I growled, but there was no heat in it. How could there be when she was warm and pliant against me, when her joy was infectious, when every breath brought her scent despite the wind?

The final stretch to Rosewood's was pure exquisite torture. Every bump in the road pressed her against me. Every turn required her to hold tighter. By the time the tea shop's Victorian facade came into view, I was harder than the fucking chrome on my bike and seriously reconsidering this whole "public date" idea.

I pulled into the small parking lot, killing the engine with relief. Or disappointment. Hard to tell which.

"That was . . ." Lena's arms stayed wrapped around me for a long moment, like she wasn't ready to let go. "Can we just keep riding? Forever?"

"Thought you wanted tiny sandwiches," I managed, voice rough.

"I want lots of things." She finally released me, sliding off the bike with a grace that made the dress flare again. Fucking sundresses. Who authorized those?

I swung my leg over, standing carefully to adjust myself without being obvious about it. Failed completely if her knowing smirk was any indication.

"Need a minute?" she asked sweetly, already reaching for the helmet straps.

"I'm fine."

"Mm-hmm." She pulled the helmet off, hair wild and static-charged, cheeks flushed from wind and excitement. "So if I said that ride made me all tingly and warm, that wouldn't affect you at all?"

"Lena."

"Or if I mentioned how much I loved being pressed against you? Feeling all that power under me?"

"You're playing with fire." I stepped closer, backing her against the bike.

"Am I?" She looked up at me through her lashes, and fuck if she didn't lick her lips deliberately. "Maybe I like fire. Maybe I want a little burn."

My control cracked. Just for a second. Just long enough to cage her against the bike, hands braced on either side of her hips, not touching but close enough she could feel the heat rolling off me.

"Careful what you ask for, little girl." The endearment slipped out, rough and possessive. "Push too hard and you might get more than you bargained for."

Her breath hitched, eyes going dark. "Promise?"

For a moment, we stayed frozen like that. Me looming over her, her tilting that defiant chin up in challenge, the air between us electric with want. Anyone could drive by. Anyone could see. Duke could get a fucking phone call in the next thirty seconds that would end everything before it began.

"Tea," I ground out, forcing myself to step back. "We're here for tea."