It was dangerous how good it felt.
We'd just left the brunch restaurant, and my mind was too worked up to even spare a glance at Lori as I walked out the washroom.Jaxon had offered me a ride home—then it was a choice between leaving on the back of his ridiculous bike and sitting through another hour with those hateful women.
Needless to say, I didn't need much convincing.
The city blurred past in hues of golden yellow and shining glass buildings, but I barely registered it.All I could feel was the heat of him through layers of denim and leather.The flex of his back beneath my palms.The scent of his cologne curling around me like a trap.
At almost every stoplight, his hand would casually drift back and rest on my thigh, sliding just a little higher than necessary.And every time he did, my pulse would jump and butterflies would swarm in my stomach.
He was playing a dangerous game.
Then again, maybe now I was playing games, too.
The low rumble in his chest when my fingersaccidentallyskimmed under his shirt confirmed I was living up to my nickname: trouble.
The vibration of the bike hummed through me, settling low in my stomach, stirring thoughts I did not want to examine too closely.My pulse refused to calm.My mind refused to behave.
I hated that.
I hated that one reckless decision in a bathroom had turned into this—this pull, this hunger, this constant awareness of him.We had rules.Acontract.Boundaries designed to keep this neat, controlled, strategic.
Instead, it was becoming messy.
And I hated how much a part of me didn’t want to stop it.
I thought of his mouth at my ear.His breath on my skin.The way he looked at me like I was something he wanted to take his time with—and ruin at the same time.
I thought of how easily feelings could bleed into places they didn’t belong.
And then I thought of how empty logic felt compared to the warmth of his touch.
Twenty minutes pressed against him like that did not help.By the time we got to my townhouse, my nerves were stretched thin and my skin was on fire.Wanting Jaxon Cage was a thought I never wanted to cross my mind, but God did I want him.
He slowed to a stop, boots steadying the bike, and my shaky hands released his waist.I swung off the bike and tugged the helmet free, handing it to him.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said after clearing my throat.
“Anytime, trouble.”He set my helmet on the handle before removing his to look at me.“Anything to get away from Lori and the vultures, right?”
I chuckled awkwardly.“Right.”
We stayed there, facing each other, the space between us crackling like a live wire.His eyes skimmed my face, slowly taking me in, like he was reading me in a language only he understood.And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't doing the same.Were his eyes always this brown or was it the sunlight?And those lips—it was ridiculous to think that those lips were on the most sensitive parts of me just twenty minutes ago.
“Trouble.”
My gaze locked onto his at the sound of his warning yet pleading call.The heat in his eyes could've scorched me to ashes if I wasn't burning, too.My stomach was in knots just staring at this man—this beautifully dangerous man.
There were so many reasons why this would be a bad idea, but the question passed through my lips before I could stop it.
“Do you… want to come inside?”
There.
It was out there.
The first mistake of the day.
His pause only made that painfully obvious.But his gaze dropped to my lips then lifted again, pools of warm whiskey staring back at me.
