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He nodded. “All right, I’ll do nothing about them.”
She growled. Actually growled. It was adorable. “Good.”
He repressed his smile. “So are you going to ride with me or what?”
“No. I’ll go by myself.”
“Because you’re stubborn?”
“Because I want my freedom.”
He raised his brow. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re afraid to be alone with me?”
“Ha! You wish.” She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “You’re the most harmless man I’ve ever met.”
“Right back at ya, honey.”
“Stop calling me those names.”
He met her eyes. “Come with me.”
Her pupils dilated and he realized too late how that sounded.
He lowered his voice. “We’re going to the same place. Let me drive you. Look at the bright side, you can drink as much as you want and not have to worry about how you’re going to get home.”
Her brow furrowed. “Do you have a car? Or do you expect me to ride on the back of that motorcycle?”
“I have a car too.” His fingers twitched with the desire to put his hands on her. Christ, she made him hard. “We’ll take whatever you prefer.”
Her chest was a rapid rise and fall as she seemed to think through her options.
He wondered if she thought through the same options as him—namely, the things he could do to her in a car versus the things he could do to her on his bike. Things he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
“I’d think a car was safer,” she said, ripping him away from his list of depraved acts.
That depended on what kind of safety she meant, but he nodded. “The car it is.”
“Fine, I’ll go with you.” She held up a hand. “But only because I want to drink.”
“Of course. No other reason.”
“So we understand each other?”
“Perfectly.” His gaze dipped to her mouth before rising to meet her eyes. “We’ll meet out front at six.”
“All right.”
Neither moved.
God help him. Somewhere in the next couple of hours he needed to shore up his self-control. He was going to have to do something to take the edge off because he sure as hell couldn’t be around her like this and keep his hands to himself. “I’ll see you soon, Sophie.”
“Yes.” The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “Soon.”
He turned and got the hell out of there.
* * *
Sophie spent the rest of the afternoon frantically unpacking to work off her excess energy and trying to figure out what to wear. Before Ryder showed up at her door, her outfit hadn’t been a thought in her head, but now she obsessed on it. Her brain told her to dress very conservatively—like maybe a nice pair of jeans and a blousy top—but her slut told her to make Ryder sweat.
