Chapter 10 Definitely Not Playing With Fire #3
Yeah, I’m memorizing that face for the rest of eternity.
“I’ll wait,” I say quietly.
Her voice comes out lower than she means. “For what?”
“For you to ask.”
Her jaw clenches. Her eyes flick to my mouth again—longer this time—and she knows I noticed. Her cheeks flush the faintest pink as she tries to look smug anyway but fails.
“Not gonna happen,” she mutters, the words pitched low as she reaches for her helmet, like ending the conversation means she wins it.
My mouth kicks up anyway, because she can deny whatever she wants, but her ears are pink and she’s still standing here with me. “Sure, Sunshine,” I drawl, letting the grin linger while I tilt my head. “Whatever helps you sleep.”
Before she can grab it, I snag her helmet and turn it in my hands, playing it off like I’m inspecting it for cracks and scuffs. The plastic’s fine. My focus isn’t. I just need something to keep my hands busy that isn’t her, or her waist, or her damn perfect lips.
“Hold still a sec.” I step closer, voice dropping into something that sounds like a request even though it isn’t.
She pauses—surprised, suspicious, but not pulling away as I lower the helmet onto her head gently, making sure I don’t snag her hair. My fingers brush along her jaw when I adjust the strap, and her breath catches enough for my brain to short-circuit for a full two seconds.
“Why are you being weird?” she asks, the words coming out muffled through the helmet as she tilts her head, almost glaring at me.
“This isn’t weird,” I tell her while I check the fit too seriously, sliding my fingers along the edge as if I actually know what I’m doing. “This is me making sure your skull stays intact, because I like your skull.”
She snorts, which is impressive considering the face padding, and the sound punches right through me anyway. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” I toss back, letting the grin tug at my mouth as I glance up at her visor, “but you keep letting me get this close, so what does that say about you?”
I tug the strap one more time, and my knuckles graze her throat in the process. Soft skin. Warm. I pretend I don’t feel it. If I do, I’m going to do something truly stupid in a gravel lot with two streetlights and a sky full of witnesses.
She pulls her chin back fast, like she can outrun her own reaction. “Can I have my head back now?”
“But I like it between my hands.” I tap the helmet lightly with a little too much satisfaction. “Looks good on you. Makes you look like you enjoy safety.”
Her gloved finger shoots up and she flips me off right in my face.
I laugh under my breath, grinning like an idiot. “Hot.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s still breathing too fast, still blushing, still doing that thing where her gaze keeps landing on my mouth like it’s an accident she’s making on purpose.
“Come on.” I step back just enough to give her space while still keeping her right where I want her. “I’m following you home.”
She freezes so hard it’s like someone hit pause, then her head snaps toward me. “No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am,” I answer easily, the thought of her riding off alone after tonight making my skin crawl.
“I don’t need an escort.”
“You’re getting one.” My grin’s still there, but the edge under it isn’t a joke anymore.
“I don’t want a stalker.”
“I prefer the term ‘persistent guardian angel with questionable boundaries.’”
She snorts, full of disbelief even as her shoulders loosen a fraction. “Yeah, that makes it less creepy.”
“Good,” I tell her as I snap my visor down, the click loud in the quiet lot, and my grin turns feral where she can’t see it. “Creepy but honest is my brand.”
She groans, like she wants to hit me but knows she’d enjoy it a little too much, which is probably why she doesn’t.
“Fine.” She points at me with one gloved hand, all warning and zero authority. “Follow me. But I swear, Jax, don’t rear-end me.”
I laugh under the helmet, the sound vibrating in my chest as I swing my leg over my bike. “Sunshine, the only rear end I’m interested in is yours.”
She goes stiff for half a second, then catches herself and mutters, disgusted with her own setup as she flicks her visor down. “I walked right into that one.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum back, rolling the throttle just enough to make the engine purr, because I’m incapable of not being annoying. “But hey, I’m happy to follow you from behind. It’s a marvelous view.”
“Jesus Christ,” she mutters as she shakes her head and climbs onto her bike, trying and failing to play it cool.
I edge closer on my bike, not enough to crowd her, just enough that she’ll feel me there, a warm presence at her back. “Relax.” I angle my head toward hers, keeping my voice low through the helmet. “I’ll try to keep my distance.”
“You better.”
“No promises,” I answer, still smiling even as I ease the front wheel back again. I’m not stupid enough to actually push it when she’s already letting me have this much.
She flips me off again without even looking at me. I laugh.
Her engine growls to life.
“Lead the way, Sunshine,” I call over the rumble.
She doesn’t look at me, but I see it through the plastic—the wrinkle by her eye that tells me the corner of her mouth is twitching up. A smile she didn’t mean to show.
We ride, with me keeping a careful distance, but my eyes never leave her taillights until she turns down her street and pulls into a narrow driveway beside a small, one-story house.
She kills the engine, and so do I, as she sits there for a second, helmet halfway off, shoulders tight enough to snap. When she finally slips it off, she looks back at me like she’s deciding whether to punch me, thank me, or do something that would make my whole week.
She chooses none.
“Goodnight.” For once her voice lands softer than the attitude she’s been swinging all night.
I nod once, letting her have the space while I keep my bike right where it is at the end of her drive. “Go on.”
She hesitates, fingers lingering on her helmet strap, gaze flicking over me like she’s checking for tricks.
Then she turns and heads for the front door, boots scuffing the walkway, keys already in hand.
She pauses on the porch, glancing back, and there’s a tiny flicker in her eyes that feels like a crack in something she keeps locked down.
Then she goes inside, and the door shuts.
I stay where I am, engine cooling under me, watching the dark for movement that isn’t hers, watching the house like it might blink. A moment later, a warm light clicks on inside, spilling a soft glow through the front window, and my chest finally unclenches like it remembered how to breathe.
Only then do I let it out, slow and quiet.
Next time, she’s inviting me in.
Even if she doesn’t know it yet.