Page 4 of Mr. Wrong (Hollywood Knights #1)

Four

Lex

I’m not sure what does it.

Maybe it’s the tentative way she lets me kiss her.

The way her lush mouth opens under mine, slow and soft, letting me take the lead.

Maybe it’s the way she tastes—cloyingly sweet cherry syrup mixed with the smooth, smoky tang of top-shelf single malt.

Maybe it’s the way she looks at me when she says it, like I’m the kind of bad choice she’s avoided her entire life.

One she’ll never give herself the chance to make again.

Yes.

Whatever the hell it is, I can’t get her out of here fast enough.

As soon as she says it, I’m vaulted over the bar again, fingers linked through hers, and I’m pulling her off her stool, barely giving her enough time to snag her bag off the stool next to her before I have her across the bar and out the door.

I hear Seth shout something and I fling my free hand in his direction in a hasty see you later .

Stopping in front of my bike, it occurs to me that it might be a deal-breaker.

For some women it is. “You ever been on a bike before?” I say, ready to pull my phone out and order the Uber she threatened me with a few minutes ago.

Not for her. For the both of us. I can leave my bike here.

Seth will wheel it inside for me when he closes up. He’s done it before.

She shakes her head, chewing on that lower lip of hers again, obviously freaked out by the prospect. “No.”

“It’s okay.” I give her what I hope passes for a reassuring smile while telling myself what I’m feeling isn’t disappointment. It’s impatience. Maybe even annoyance. “We don’t have to—”

“No—I want to.” She bounces her dark gaze up to meet mine while she shakes her head, trepidation replaced by determination. “You’ll just have to show me how. Tell me what to do.”

I think about the way she let me kiss her. The way her mouth opened and yielded under mine. Soft and pliant. Willing to follow wherever I lead. Let me take whatever I want.

No, not let me take.

Give me.

Ellenore is willing to give me whatever I ask for.

All I have to do is show her. Teach her.

Suddenly, the fifteen-minute bike ride to Brentwood seems like a cross-country trek.

Giving her my helmet, I make sure it’s secure before straddling my bike and motioning for her to climb on behind me.

She slides onto the seat, the inside of her thighs gripping the outside of mine.

The heat of her full, soft breasts pressed against my back.

Her soft, shallow breath against the nape of my neck.

Reaching back, I find both of her hands and pull them forward, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Hold on. Follow my lead,” I say, giving her hands a brief squeeze before starting the engine.

The sudden rumbling vibration of the bike seat between her legs pulls a sharp gasp from her that goes straight to my dick.

In an instant I’m so hard I could hammer nails with the head of my cock, the rigid bulge of it mere inches from her hands.

Turning my head just enough to see her mouth, I give her a crooked smile. “I’ll go slow. Take it—”

Leaning forward, she rests her chin on my shoulder, bringing her mouth to within a breath of mine.

“Don’t.” She settles into her seat even further, pressing herself tighter against me.

“I don’t want to go slow.” She whispers it, her inner thighs gripping around my hips.

“I don’t want you to take it easy on me.

” I have a feeling she’s talking about more than the bike ride we’re about to take.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, shifting the bike into drive before opening the throttle and we take off like a shot.