Chapter 4
four
PAST
brANDON
The woman’s—Kate’s—lips crash over mine before I know what’s happening. That bossy mouth of hers—strawberry flavored, by the way—isn’t hesitant like it’s gauging my reaction. No, this kiss isn’t a question; it’s a demand.
And being the gentleman that I am, I’m more than happy to oblige.
My lips turn up against hers.
This whole situation throws me for a loop. I’m the one usually pursuing women with my devastatingly good looks and charm. It’s a game I play frequently, but if I’m being honest, it’s gotten boring.
So when the sexiest woman I’ve ever met practically throws herself onto my motorcycle, I give in. Sue me.
I wrap my hands around her waist. She’s lean, but I’m surprised by the layer of solid muscle beneath her curves. I hoist her onto the seat of my bike, stepping close to her dangling legs.
Is it one of my signature moves? Maybe. But she doesn’t need to know that.
If anything, I have a feeling that Kate Chen and I are a lot more alike than we think.
After all, this woman ate concrete, almost wrecked my motorcycle, partially mooned innocent bystanders, and still played the whole thing off with sexy confidence. Color me impressed.
Out of the corner of my half-closed eyes, I spot my best friend, Tucker, shaking his head from beside his own motorcycle. I hear a faint rip from the notepad he always carries before something brushes my hand bracketing Kate’s hips on the bike.
I crack an eyelid at Tucker’s note and try not to laugh.
New wingman world record: 20 seconds.
You’re welcome. - Tuck
I wave him away before he can ruin this sanctioned moment.
As if she can sense my attention slipping, Kate tightens her hold, threading her fingers through the hair on the nape of my neck.
It’s like she found my kill switch, shutting down what logical thinking I have left. Molten desire floods my veins, and I know I’m in trouble.
In a matter of seconds, I fist my hands into her waist-length hair and press my body flush against hers. Her lips curve into a slight smile beneath mine, and I realize then that she’s toying with me. Like she thinks she’s in control, putting me through paces like some kind of show dog.
But I’m the predator, not the prey. Let this chick think what she wants.
The thought dissolves quicker than tissue on water as she suddenly breaks the kiss, and my mouth trails after hers without my permission.
Kate blinks her thick black lashes innocently as I watch. She rolls her strawberry lips in, bites down, and releases them with a shy smile.
“Sorry, I don’t know what got into me.” Her voice has a sexy, gravelly quality. “I’m not usually like this.”
Liar.
Shy women don’t kiss like that. Trust me. I have it on good authority. Kate’s dark eyes twinkle like she knows I already called her bluff.
“Likewise.” I shoot her a roguish smile, trying to slow my harried breathing.
She smiles back, seeming to enjoy this hot-and-bothered game of charades.
“Ready for the ride of your life tonight?” A flicker of surprise flits across her face, and I chuckle. “On my motorcycle, love. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Kate rolls her eyes, though she lets out a husky laugh. “Okay, bike boy. Let’s get out of here.”
She slides off the seat, dusting her hands on the sides of her miniskirt like our makeout was all in a day’s work. I can’t help but watch the movement and try to forget the cherry-red underwear she has on beneath. The underwear I definitely didn’t see when she fell.
“Where do I sit?”
“Safety-first.” I open one of the motorcycle saddlebags I installed last month and take out the second helmet I keep on hand. It’s smaller than mine but fits most of the women I entertain.
I do have to say most, because there was one girl I dated with an abnormally large head. Once I saw it, my mind morphed her into a bobble-head doll and I couldn’t unsee it. So that fling was flung quicker than others.
I ease the helmet over Kate’s hair and pull it down to her chin. She watches me intently through the open visor as I position it.
“How do I look?” Her voice is muffled.
With her pretty face concealed, all that’s left is her toned body. Kate is all bare limbs and soft curves in her tiny skirt and strapless top. I pull my eyes back to hers.
“Like I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.” It’s a line, and we both know it, but she smiles anyway.
“Well, lucky you then.” She goes to swing her leg over the seat.
“Hang on.” I fish around the opposite saddlebag and retrieve a worn leather jacket.
Since chivalry isn’t dead, or so I try to make it seem, I wrap the coat around Kate’s bare shoulders.
“Wouldn’t want you to get too chilly.” I wink.
She shamelessly lifts the collar to her nose and sniffs. “Chanel number five? Interesting choice, Mr. Roberts.”
I feel my face flush as the comment catches me off guard. Women don’t usually call me out so blatantly about my casual dating. My body runs like a space heater, so I haven’t touched that jacket in months. But the girl I took out last week did… What was her name? Jaylee? Bailey?
“I… like to keep things interesting,” I say.
“Likewise.” Kate is unperturbed as she threads her arms through the sleeves and climbs onto the small second seat I also installed. I try to memorize the mental picture of her atop my bike.
I slide across in front of her and pull on my helmet. I’m glad she can’t see my face when her bare thighs press into the sides of my jeans. I swallow but force charisma into my voice.
“Feel free to hang on as tight as you want,” I say.
Kate doesn’t respond, but her hands press against my abdomen in seconds. It’s like she’s got a mission to count each ab muscle.
“Where do you wanna go?”
Her sigh presses against my back. “Surprise me.”
Forward and adventurous? Kate Chen just got even more interesting.
“Okay, Katie. I’ve got just the place.”
I straighten out the bike, kick the kickstand, and start the engine. The motorcycle roars to life, vibrating beneath us. She clenches tighter around my middle, and I wonder if there’s a part of her that might be scared.
I give her knee a reassuring squeeze. I know I’m a ladies’ man, but I like to think I’m also a good guy. I’ve got her, for the evening at least, and I’m gonna make sure she’s safe.
I release the clutch. A familiar surge of adrenaline spikes my blood as the motorcycle picks up speed. The autumn wind chaps my bare arms, but it feels like coming home. Countless memories circle these tires, humming beneath me. One memory flies to the forefront of my mind.
“The carburetor seems to be in fairly decent condition, but we’ll need to replace these cracked seals.”
Eric Sanderson’s voice fills my thoughts like a ray of sunshine.
I smile—an involuntary response, really, when it comes to Tuck’s dad.
The summer Tuck and I turned sixteen, Eric agreed to help us refurbish a couple of motorcycles.
The guy is a genius and has been more of a father figure in my life than my own—whoever the hell he is.
A familiar dark feeling overcomes me, and I attempt to shake it off.
I navigate toward the southeast side of Chicago until the dark expanse of Lake Michigan begins to drip across the horizon. A few minutes later, Promontory Point comes into view. The small peninsula juts far enough into the lake to see the glittering Chicago coastline to the north.
The road into the city park is lined with trees blazing with fall colors.
I roll off the throttle, and we come to a stop.
I flip down the kickstand with my black leather boot, push the kill switch, and take off my helmet.
Kate allows me to ease her off the bike, and I again take the liberty of assisting with her helmet.
The last fifteen minutes had distracted me, but I’m stun-gunned back into reality by how beautiful she is. I busy my hands by reaching into the saddlebag and pulling out a blanket.
Let’s be honest, it probably smells like Chanel number five, too.
We walk under a ceiling of burgundy and gold leaves until we step down the rock-hewn amphitheater steps that meet the midnight water’s edge.
I fan the blanket across one of the large stone steps, making sure to give Kate extra on her side so she can wrap it over her bare legs.
She sits down, stretching out and crossing her ankles.
Her long sheet of black hair falls down my leather jacket.
I don’t know what it is, but a girl—especially one as hot as Kate—wearing my jacket makes something primal stir in my chest.
She leans casually against the taller step behind us. We listen for a moment to the waves lapping at the rocks and the distant hum of traffic.
“So, Kate Chen. Tell me about yourself.”
“Talking is overrated.” Kate surprises me yet again in that husky tone of hers.
My face inches toward hers as I whisper, “Usually, I’d agree with you, but I’m making an exception.” I’m unable to ignore my intense curiosity about her any longer. I put a healthy distance of approximately six inches between us.
“What were you doing stumbling all over Sigma Chi tonight?” I ask.
“Stumbling? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She narrows a set of eyes so dark, they glint like obsidian.
I lean closer and whisper in the chilly darkness, “Listen. I might have seen some things… but I rather liked what I saw, so I’m not complaining.” Adorable irritation creases her forehead, and I laugh. “For real. What brought you to my humble abode tonight?”
Kate meets me with an unreadable expression, almost as if she’s bored. As if getting to know each other might be the worst thing ever. I try not to take it personally. She’s quiet for a long minute, scanning the diamond skyscrapers amid the soft glow of the city.
“Fine, Brandon Roberts. I’ll play your little game. But you get three questions and three questions only.” A seductive smile curves her lips. “And after, you take me back to your place and make me forget I ever said anything.”