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She’d hit him. A heavy jab right to his nose.
“Fuck me.” He screamed, his hands immediately coming up to cover his face.
It burned and his nose throbbed. He peeked through his fingers and Carson just stood there. With the blurred vision it was a little hard to confirm, but Neil was sure a satisfied smile spread across her face.
“Should have protected your face,” Arty said as he walked by.
“Thanks,” he mumbled between his fingers.
He’d never met a woman who worked so hard to not impress him. It was refreshing. Most women would do whatever he wanted. But with Carson, she tested him right back. Sucker punching him in the face, the perfect example. She didn’t care if she was sweaty, or banged up. She didn’t care what Neil thought. She was who she was and made no excuses. Neil was still coming to terms with the man he was. The man he was waiting to become—his father. It was only a matter of time. No amount of love that Vivian Madewood could have given him would override the douchebag gene that lay dormant, waiting for its moment to shine.
That’s why he would never have a serious relationship.
“I can’t believe you just sucker punched me.” He groaned. His nose hurt something fierce.
She stood back, her arms folded across her chest, an indifferent look on her face. “You asked for it and I told you, I don’t need someone to rescue me. I knocked you in the face pretty good. Now imagine if I was actually trying.”
Neil dropped his hands and shot her an incredulous look. “Not even trying?”
“I am partial to that pretty face so I didn’t want to mess it up too much.” She smiled and pulled off her gloves.
Neil shook his head. “You really are a ballbuster.”
“So they tell me.” She wrapped her arm around his body. “Come on, let’s get you some ice for that nose.”
Was he a loser if he admitted he didn’t want the evening to end? Would she be happy to know that the entire time they spent in that gym he hadn’t thought about his bike, or racing or his n
eed for release once?
Hell, even the punch had been entertaining. Somewhat.
They worked out for an hour more, Neil refusing to get in the ring no matter how hard she begged. Would she beg like that in the bedroom? Neil made the decision to test that theory as soon as possible.
…
When they were showered and in their regular clothes, Neil walked Carson out into the night air. The sound of cars passing by filled the streets. The light above the building flickered, about to go out.
Carson approached her bike and secured her bag on the back.
“Where to?” he asked.
She looked up and she smiled. And the smile hit him straight in the gut.
“Let’s go for a ride,” she said. “I know some cool places to bike around here.”
She shoved on her helmet, zipped up her leather jacket and slipped on her gloves. It was extremely hot watching a woman gear up to ride. Why hadn’t he ever considered dating a woman with a bike before? Maybe because all the women who want a piece of you are prissy, rich heiresses or gold-diggers who want to get their hands on the Madewood fortune.
When had he become so jaded?
Carson lifted her leg and straddled the seat. Hot. Maybe the reason why he never dated a woman who rode was because he’d never let her leave his house. This woman kicked up his libido to uncomfortable levels.
He followed behind her, and put on his helmet, but when he went to mount his bike, she stopped him.
She patted the space behind her.
“I have my own bike here.”
“Yes, but you won’t be riding it.”
