Page 59 of Make Me Mean It

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THEO

I’m pulling my helmet free from the handlebars when Connor walks out of the house, and my hand pauses around the strap.

I haven’t seen him since the club.

Since his fingers shook against my chest and he made me promise not to tell Marcus, who is currently standing right fucking behind him with one shoulder braced against the doorframe.

Connor steps onto the porch looking irritatingly normal. Hair neat, clothes straight, not a trace of the guy I had shaking beneath my hands in that alley as he gives Marcus one of those small, polite smiles, soft at the corners and perfectly practised.

The kind he gives everyone.

Fake as fuck.

Connor jogs down the porch steps, hands disappearing into the pocket of his hoodie. My eyes catch briefly on the bare stretch of his throat before I drag them back up, a flash of sweat-damp skin beneath club lights coming with it.

Fucking hell.

“Yo, Reid,” I call, tapping the spare helmet against my thigh.

His head whips around, recognition settling across his face with a long-suffering sigh.

His eyes flick toward the house, and I already know what he’s checking for. Marcus has already shut the door, and when Connor looks back at me, there’s a new tension sitting across his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, princess.”

His whole body tenses at the nickname, enough that I wonder if I’ve pushed too far, but then Connor folds his arms across his chest and starts towards me, blue eyes narrowing with every reluctant step.

“What do you want, Knox?”

The familiar bite behind it pulls a grin from me.

I give him a slow once-over, making absolutely no attempt to hide it. Colour is already creeping into his cheeks by the time I make it back to his face, and I have to fight the laugh threatening at the back of my throat.

“A ride,” I drawl, leaning forward to brace my arms across the front of the bike, tongue catching briefly at the corner of my mouth.

“You-”

Connor’s lips press together, the colour in his face deepening. I bite back a grin, knowing exactly where his fucking mind just went. The glare he gives me when I lift a brow only confirms it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I press my tongue against my canine, smirking. “Wanna find out?”

His eyes narrow, slipping to the bike instead of me. It’s almost ridiculously easy to fall back into this with him, winding him up until the familiar pink spreads down his neck.

His eyes snap straight back to mine. “Not even slightly.”

I snort and toss the spare helmet towards him, watching him fumble it before managing to clutch it against his chest.

“Hop on, princess.”

Connor’s mouth turns down, looking from the helmet to me. “Not a chance.”

“C’mon.” I sit back on the bike, spreading my hands. “I’m being nice.”

“You don’t know how to be nice.”