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the bike away from the wall, rolling it forward and straddling the black seat. He looked so in control, so powerful sitting there with all that metal and steel between his legs.
     
    “So what’s it going to be, Harlow?” he said, a slight challenge in his voice. “You want a ride?”
     
    If I didn’t get on that bike, I would regret it forever.
     
    I nodded and stepped forward.
     

 
     
    4
     
    He pulled a black helmet off the back of the bike and held it out. “Here.”
     
    “Where’s yours?”
     
    “This is mine.”
     
    I shook my head. “You take it.”
     
    He rolled his eyes and climbed off the bike, making sure it was steady before leaving it to stand in front of me. Without saying a word, he reached up and pulled the band out of my hair. Dark strands fell over my head and his arm, tickling my shoulders.
     
    He held out the band, stretching it with his fingers so it was wide. “Here,” he said, gesturing to my hand. I held up my arm and he linked our fingers, sliding the band over onto my wrist.
     
    But he didn’t pull away just yet.
     
    Instead, he wrapped his fingers around mine, sliding down to circle my wrist where the pad of his thumb brushed over the thin, sensitive flesh on the underside.
     
    “I like your hair down,” he murmured, lowering my arm and his hand to step just a fraction closer so he could bury his nose in the hair that fell over my ear.
     
    My heart was beating so hard that it was the only thing I could feel. Well, that and the way his even breathing tickled the soft strands and echoed into my ear. My thigh muscles clenched together and I stood stock still because I was afraid if I moved I would melt into a puddle at his feet.
     
    Cam pulled back, releasing his gentle grip on my wrist and looked down. When our eyes met, I felt the crackle of desire surround us, and then he smiled. He had a dimple in his left cheek.
     
    “I’ll help you,” he said, his voice brushing along my exposed nerve endings and making me shiver. “You cold?” he asked, frowning.
     
    “No.”
     
    I caught the look of recognition in his eyes when he reached up and brushed the hair behind my ear. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. In fact, I would guess he enjoyed it.
     
    Two could play that game.
     
    I hooked a finger beneath the bowtie around his neck. “I like this,” I said, trailing my finger along the fabric that wrapped around his neck.
     
    “Yeah?” he asked after a moment, his voice tellingly hoarse.
     
    “Mm-hmm.”
     
    “It’s itchy.”
     
    I made a clicking sound with my tongue and slid my finger all the way around so my hand was caught between the leather of his jacket and the warm skin of his neck. His body stiffened just a little as my fingers brushed over him as I found the clasp that held the bowtie in place and undid it, causing it to fall away. Using my palm, I smoothed my hand around the base of his throat again and then pulled back to look up. “That better?”
     
    He didn’t say anything but swallowed thickly, and I gave him a little smile, tucking the bowtie in the pocket of his jacket. He cleared his throat and pulled the helmet down over my head. It was heavy and a little too big. I felt if I didn’t hold my head perfectly straight, the weight of it would topple me over.
     
    “I look like a bobble head.” I complained as he adjusted the strap beneath my chin.
     
    “A little,” he agreed and smirked.
     
    Before I could insult him back, he closed the face shield on the front and straddled the bike again.
     
    “Climb on,” he instructed.
     
    Thank goodness I was wearing shorts. I swung my leg up over the side and sat down. The seat was narrow and not really comfortable. I held myself stiffly, trying not to slide into him, but the way the seat angled it was kind of hard not to.
     
    I placed my bag between us and then he grabbed my legs just beneath the knees and pulled. My body came up against him all at once. My breasts pressed up