Page 41 of Hungry As Her Python

A motorcycle.

Dang it.

I knew exactly who it was before I even turned around.

And I did not have time for this man.

Not tonight.

Not when the Trifecta was waiting on me in the clearing.

Not when I was still trying to figure out how to stop my heart from doing the cha-cha every time he came within six feet of me.

But there he was, all broad shoulders and sin incarnate, astride a gunmetal-gray motorcycle that looked like it had been built for seduction.

He wore dark jeans and scuffed leather boots, and his blond hair was tousled by the wind like he’d just ridden out of my dirtiest daydream.

I wanted to kick him in the shin for existing like that in public.

Then kiss him until we both forgot our own names.

Curse you, Witchy hormones.

“Hop on, Sugar. I’ll get you to the clearing,” he said, voice low and husky, like my name might be hidden in there somewhere if I just listened close enough.

It should’ve annoyed me—being ordered around.

It should’ve had me crossing my arms and telling him I could handle it myself, thank you very much.

Instead, well. It did other things to me.

Naughty things.

And when he leaned down and whispered, “Good girl,” after I swung a leg over the bike and settled behind him?

I nearly melted into a puddle of Bella-flavored frosting right there in the seat.

“Fine,” I muttered because dignity was important. “You can give me a ride. But it doesn’t mean anything. Just get me there.”

I even made a point of keeping my hands on the backrest like some kind of stubborn, apron-wearing rebel.

“Wrap your arms around my waist, Bella, and I’ll get you there,” he replied, like my snark didn’t even graze him.

Ugh. The nerve.

He pressed on the gas—the snake—jerking me around a little. So yeah, I did it—I placed my hands on his waist. Lightly, barely touching him.

But even the barest brush of my fingers sent tingles racing up my arms.

My magic lit up like someone had plugged me into a socket.

It buzzed and hummed, practically purring at the contact.

See, my magic whispered. We like him. We should keep him.

Shut. Up.

I was not falling into whatever-this-was with a sexy-as-sin Snake man who looked like he’d been born for slow dancing in the dark and fast kisses in the kitchen.