Olivia, if you need anything give me a call. I’m never far. N.
M. LeightonIs this what you drive?” she asks, turning those wide eyes up to me.
“Yes,” I say, but then I add with a smirk, “but you’re not surprised, are you? Isn’t this what bad-boys do? Ride motorcycles and break hearts?”
Her smile is weak. “I suppose so.”
She turns away and moves around to unlock the car door and pop the hood.
I shouldn’t have said that.
She laughs outright. And I love the sound. Makes me think of tickling her. In bed. While she’s naked. Lying on top of me.
M. LeightonWhat now?”
“You’ve never ridden a motorcycle before?”
“Nope.”
“What kind of bad-boy girlfriend are you?” I ask in mock dismay.
“Evidently a terrible one.”
I swing onto the bike and grab my only helmet. “Nah, you just haven’t met the right bad-boy.
Her cheeks flush a little. I want to kiss her. Again. And I will. Just not right now.
M. LeightonI love the adrenaline of my bike. I always have. I try my best to let it chase away the feel of Olivia at my back, but I think nothing short of a week locked up in a bedroom with her can accomplish that. And oh what a week that would be.
M. LeightonI love watching her, watching her uncertainty and her hesitation. And her attempts at denying what we both know she’s feeling. Teasing her is going to be so much fun. Hot, sweet, sexy, delicious fun.
M. LeightonI guess he was making sure I could get in okay without my keys.
Oh, good God! Don’t show me the sweet, considerate side! I won’t stand a chance.
I can’t stop thinking about doing this to you,” he whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him. “Tell me to stop now if you don’t want this. If you don’t want me.
M. LeightonIf he’s the stripper, then who are you?”
“I’m Cash Davenport. I own the club.
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