Page 36 of Spring Break Fling

Ifinished working on my last client of the night and quickly cleaned up. I thought it was funny I caught Hannah stalking me. Wiping down my equipment, I couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. She had half an hour to show up. Or not.

Her response was gutsy. It made me more curious than ever about what kind of game she thought we were playing. I knew what we both wanted. It was no use pretending otherwise. I swept my area and organized my inks all in the name of killing time.

I glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until the supposed meeting time. Despite her feisty reply, I had a gut feeling she would show up. There was an electric current that neither of us could deny, no matter how hard we tried. We were tethered together. It was not just one night.

Five minutes before eight o’clock, the door opened. I couldn’t stop the grin. Hannah walked in, head held high like she owned the place. There was a confidence in her step that hadn’t been there the last time I saw her. It intrigued me, this shift in her demeanor.

“Decided you weren’t too busy after all?” I asked.

She didn’t falter, coming to a stop a few feet away from me. “I figured it might be worth my while to see what you think ‘date number one’ entails,” Hannah retorted. “And date one should be enough to get this damn tattoo fixed.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “Let’s go.”

She rolled her eyes. “Where are we going?”

I didn’t answer her. I walked to the door and opened it, waiting for her. She sighed and walked out, then stood on the sidewalk and looked around.

“What now?”

I walked to my bike and tossed her a helmet. She caught it easily. The look on her face was priceless. Hannah stared at it like I’d just handed her a live grenade. Her perfectly manicured nails drummed nervously on the glossy black surface as she glanced at my bike, then back at me.

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s called a helmet,” I said dryly. “You put it on your head.”

If looks could have killed, I would be dead.

“I’m not getting on that thing with you,” she said, shaking her head like I’d suggested jumping out of an airplane without a parachute.

I leaned against the handlebars, letting my grin spread slow and lazy. “Yes, you are.”

“Nope.”

“Yep.”

“No.”

“Uh huh.”

She groaned, her free hand pressing to her temple like she was getting a headache just looking at me. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stalling. Let’s go, princess.” I patted the seat behind me, watching her wrestle with whatever fancy internal decision tree she was consulting. I could practically see her weighing the pros and cons.

I was glad she changed out of the uptight corporate attire. She had put on jeans and knee-high boots with a heel that added a couple inches to her height. Her ass looked amazing. It was very tempting to reach out and grab a handful. The T-shirt she wore hugged her tits, reminding me of just how good they had felt in my hands.

The glare she shot me could’ve stripped paint, but there was a spark in her eyes that told a different story. Hannah hesitated, then stepped closer.

“Do you know how dangerous these things are?” she asked, clutching the helmet tighter.

“Do you know how uptight you sound right now?”

That did it. Her eyes narrowed in that way that made her look like a cat about to pounce. Without another word, she marched up to the bike and jerked the helmet on. Her fingers fumbled slightly as she adjusted the strap under her chin.

“Okay, I’m trusting you to not kill me,” she finally muttered.

I got on the bike and looked at her. “It’s going to be pretty hard for you to ride if you’re standing there.”

She climbed on behind me like she was preparing for battle.