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Chase tucks an errant lock of my hair behind my ear, leaning in to kiss the tender skin behind my ear. “Baby, you’re hot.”
“I’m sweltering.” I tug at my blouse, attempting to get air flow to my chest.
“How about a ride through the city?”
Shocked, I spin in my chair to face him. “Your motorcycle is done?”
His smile is blinding, but something in his eyes looks sad, almost like he’s forcing himself to be happy in the moment. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when he interrupts my thoughts. “She sure is. Eagle’s mechanic friend did a good job, too.”
“You’ve seen it already?”
“The shop dropped her off thirty minutes ago. She’s waiting for us to take her for a spin.”
My smile falls when I look back at my caseload. “I can’t leave for a while.”
“Pack it up. Punk can bring it back to the hotel if you want to work later this evening.” Chase looks at his best friend. “You don’t mind, do you, brother?”
“Not a problem,” Punk agrees. “The sooner Priss calls it quits, the sooner we can leave this sauna.”
“The files shouldn’t leave the premises unless it’s a copy,” I object, watching Chase quickly stack my remaining files before placing them in my bag.
“Fuck those rules. This place has been breaking their own policies long before we came along.” Chase slings the bag over his shoulder and holds his hand out to me. “Come on, Numbers. We have a long overdue date.”
Excited, I grab my things and take his hand. His fingers engulf mine and tug me along. “Come on, Candy. Tomorrow is another day to pull your dominant card out on Cynthia.”
“Aww,” Candy whines as she follows. “Do we have to leave already? I had a stellar plan in place to royally piss her off.”
“What did you have in mind?” Butch asks as we make our way to the elevator.
“I was going to suggest a different hairstyle, since her current one makes her look like an uptight prison warden who hasn’t gotten laid in a while.”
The guys throw their heads back, laughing.
“Her hair looks good, and you know it,” I tell Candy. “Cynthia is a walking advertisement for the fashion industry.”
“True, but she’d be second-guessing herself. The woman could benefit from being knocked down a couple pegs.”
Once outside, Punk parts ways with the rest of us, driving the SUV back to the hotel for some downtime. Candy rips off her blazer, rocking the bustier she had underneath like it’s an appropriate top to go cruising around in. Butch licks his lips as she climbs on his hog behind him. The two look like the perfect biker couple straddling his motorcycle.
Not nearly as daring as Candy, I unbutton the top two buttons on my blouse. Judging by the smirk Chase gives me, I’d say he’s satisfied enough. He opens one of the side saddlebags on his Harley and pulls out the retched property patch jacket he tried to give me months back, before we were in a relationship.
“You have got to be joking. You carry that misogynistic monstrosity around in your bike?”
“Yeah, I do. Been waiting for you to get on my hog to put you in it. Safety first.” He holds the jacket out for me to slip my arms inside, with a smug smile on his face.
I place my hands on my hips. “You’re unreal. And I call bull. If it was a safety precaution, you’d be wearing a leather jacket each time you ride, and you don’t.”
“Numbers…” he warns me, his face darkening. “You must like my hand on your ass.”
“Maybe I do,” I smart back.
He shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he climbs on his hog. “Have it your way. But hear me, woman, you will wear my property patch soon.”
“Keep dreaming.”
My biker steadies his bike, helping me climb on behind him. Though I’m perched on the restored bitch seat with my nickname freshly embroidered on the leather, I’m confused about how close I need to be to Chase. Do I koala-strap myself to his back, or lean back and hold the bitch bars?
“Need you tight against me, Numbers,” he drawls in his deep voice. “I need to feel your pussy lips grinding against my ass crack. Hold me like you know you belong to me.”
