“I’ll have the store hold it for me.”
He sighed. “I guess I’m out of arguments.”
“I guess so,” I said cheerily, my heart accelerating at the mere thought of climbing on a bike with Finn. “Cheer up. You’re acting like my dad again.”
He stiffened. “Stop saying that.”
“Then stop acting like him,” I said, smiling to show I was teasing him. “You better be here when I come back out, or I’ll skin you alive.”
I grabbed my stuff and headed toward the store. After a quick conversation with the employee, I came back out and found Finn standing there, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. I held my hand out and waited for him to take it with bated breath. I don’t know why I did that. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even friends yet. I couldn’t resist. He stared at my hand for a second, muttered something under his breath, and closed his fingers around mine. A shot of electricity skittered up my arm, making me jump slightly.
What the heck had that been?
His eyes darkened and something weird twisted in my belly in response. Something I was only loosely familiar with. Desire. I was a virgin, but I’d read about sex enough times to recognize the sensation. And I would bet my favorite pair of Converses that he was feeling it, too.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual.
“So ready,” I said, peeking up at him through my lashes. “I’ve always wanted to ride one, but my dad wouldn’t let me.”
He perked up. “Maybe we shouldn’t. You know, if your dad would be mad.”
“Oh, please. I’m nineteen.” I tugged him toward a Harley I could only assume was his. “I’ll ride what I want to ride.”
He groaned under his breath. “I bet you will.” When we reached the bike, he grabbed the helmet off the handle and slid it over my head. I tried to pull back, not wanting to wear the ugly thing in front of him, but he didn’t let me. “My bike. My rules. You wear the helmet.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” He gently slid the helmet the rest of the way down over my head, making sure to keep my hair out of my eyes as he did so. My heart did a weird little flip flop at the way he watched me, his eyes hot and his lips soft. His touch, gentle as it might seem, held a strength behind it.
“How do I look?”
“Perfect,” he said lightly. Then he climbed onto the bike and looked over his shoulder at me. That look he gave me was the look that so many books described. Like he was inviting me to fall into his arms and stay there forever. God, I wanted to. His muscles flexed, teasing me with his perfection. “Climb on and hold on as tight as you can.”
I swallowed hard and slid on the back of the bike.
Chapter 4
One thing I knew with picture perfect clarity? The senator was going to f**king kill me for taking his precious little girl out on a bike. Skin me alive and castrate me. Hang me up as a warning to all the other low-level security officers he employed. I would deserve every second of the pending torture, because not only did I want to take her on the back of my bike—but I also wanted to take her.
In several positions.
The second Carrie backed me into a corner and insisted she ride my bike with me, I’d known I was f**ked…but not in the good way. Just the idea of her wrapping her pretty little arms around me and squeezing those perfect 34C’s against my back made my c**k hard. The reality of her pressed against me might be the death of me.
Everything I’d thought I knew about her so far had been wrong. I’d been so sure she would turn out to be this spoiled brat who thrived on shopping, drinking, and defying Daddy. Okay, the last part might be true, but she was also more. A lot more. I wanted to get to know her better. Preferably while naked in my bed.
No. My job was to serve. Protect. Keep my cover. And most of all? Not touch her. The bad thing was, I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. For some reason, the little socialite who wasn’t really a socialite was getting under my skin, and I had to find a way to get her out before it was too late.
If only my Glock protected against that shit.
Carrie slid onto the bike and wrapped her whole body against me. I bit back a groan and tried to ignore the way my c**k was screaming for attention. Her legs wrapped around me, pressing against me. It would be so easy to turn around. To rip the helmet off her head and kiss her until she realized that the best way to get back at Daddy was through me.
But that wasn’t my job.
And that wasn’t me.
I didn’t play the part of bad boy. Never had.
I revved the engine to life, taking my frustration out on the throttle, and she squealed and hung on even tighter. I couldn’t tell if she was more excited or terrified. Probably an exhilarating mixture of both. The girl was getting a chance to live, and she obviously loved life.
Grinning, I shouted over my shoulder, “Hold on tight, Ginger.”
Her nails dug into my waist and she scooted even closer, if that was possible. My grin faded away to a grunt, and I pulled away from the curb a little too hard. She didn’t panic and cry out. Instead, she whooped. Actually whooped, for f**k’s sake.
If she were anyone but the senator’s daughter, I would be bringing her back to my place so I could show her how to really live. How to feel more alive than ever—and I could show her every damn night if she wanted me to. I twisted the throttle and turned the corner on the PCH, letting the bike climb up in speed slowly. Instead of clinging to me for dear life, she loosened her hold on me and laughed.
By the time we completed the short ride to my apartment, I was ready to explode with want. As I booted the kickstand into place, she hopped off of my bike and ripped the helmet off her head. Her wild red hair was a complete and utter mess, but she looked beautiful.
She did a little dance and handed me my helmet. Her blue eyes were sparkling. Vibrant. Full of life. I couldn’t help but wonder what they would look like if I kissed her. Would she look up at me like that, with sapphires shining in her eyes? Or would they smolder and simmer, slowly heating me and making me need more?
“That was freaking awesome,” she said, spinning in a circle. “I want to do it again and again and again.”
My c**k twitched, giving a whole new meaning to those words. “Anytime you want it, you let me know. I’ll be at your beck and call.”
“Really?” She gave me an odd look, as if she was wondering if I meant something else.