Page 28 of Naz & Roz

Roz was stuck between eyeing the beautiful bike, or the equally sexy man. Maybe this was why her father had looked out the window like he wanted to kill someone. It was very possible.

“Ever been on a bike?” Naz asked.

Roz shook her head. “Not even once.”

“That’s a fucking shame, girl.”

“If I fell, my hands …”

Naz’s easy smile slipped. “You could hurt your hands if you tripped over your own two feet getting out of bed in the morning, Roz.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I can grab Luca’s car, and trade my bike with him for the day, if you want.” He gestured at her brother’s Camaro parked beside their father’s Lexus. “He’s dying to try this baby out, so he won’t mind.”

Roz didn’t even have to think about it. “No way.”

Naz’s brilliant, sinful smirk was back in an instant. “Yeah?”

Why not?

“No stunts,” she warned.

With a wink, Naz saluted her with two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You’re far from a boy scout, Naz.”

“But I’m really good at pretending to be one.”

Roz laughed as she crossed the driveway, and took the helmet he offered in her own hands. “That’s what counts, isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Naz leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her mouth. Quick, and gentle, it was over before it even began. And yet, that simple, fast kiss lit up a whole fire inside her body.

It made her breath quicken, and her heart race like nothing else.

“Morning,” he said, still staying close enough that the dark brown of his eyes was the only thing she could see. “Since, you know, I didn’t get to tell you that when you first came out.”

Roz wet her lips, and grinned. “Morning to you, too.”

“Don’t be scared of the bike, yeah?” He shrugged in that way of his that spoke of easy confidence and a laid-back demeanor. All things Naz radiated, she thought. “Never be scared of the bike, Roz. Not while I’m driving it, anyway.”

“I’m not scared of the bike.”

“Good.”

He kissed her again, then, but it wasn’t fast, gentle, or anything like the first. It was hard, deep, and lingering. His hand came up to grab the back of her neck to pull her closer, and all she could do was take him in. She could only give in to the sweep of his tongue demanding she open up for him, and lose herself in the way he practically handed over his soul when he kissed her.

He was like Novocain to her senses. Numbing, and wonderful. He lit her up like fireworks, and everything else was nothing more than background noise. A buzz—numbing.

She wasn’t scared of the bike.

The man on it, though …

Well, he terrified her.

But in a really good way.