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I frown. “First off, I invited you to stay with me, so clearly I don’t consider it an interruption. I’m thinking of it as more of a pleasant diversion.” I throw some flirtiness into my tone, hoping like hell I can get us back on track and make things lighter again. “Second, you’re right, my place isn’t that big, but you’ll stay in my room, in my bed, and I’ll cram my long-ass legs onto my short-as-shit couch. I’ve managed worse. And third, what the hell was that last part about?”
Ivy clears her throat, shifting, and the elevator doors open. I grab her arm when she tries to duck out, not letting her escape so easily.
“Ivy?” I press.
“It’s just, I’m sure you like to haveguestsover and I don’t want to be in the way when you’re trying to get your swerve on.”
A laugh erupts from my throat. “Do you think I’m some kind of sex addict? Are you expecting to see notches on my bedpost?”
She rolls her shoulders back and gives me that look I’ve been missing. That fierce, determined, fiery look that makes me want to grab her, throw her up against the wall and kiss the ever-loving shit out of her.
“I have no idea,” she states primly.
“I’m a flyboy not a playboy.”
“If you say so.”
The elevator door begins to close and I catch it with my other hand, refusing to release Ivy’s arm. Using any excuse to keep touching her. “You’re the only woman I want as a guest. And in my bed,” I add for good measure. Her eyes widen slightly and I give her a slow smile. I keep my voice low, sincere, but don’t hide the commanding undertone one bit. “Nobody else. Understand?”
She lets out a little sigh. “If you say so.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I’d like to, but…” Her voice wavers and I wait expectantly for her to continue. “It’s not easy for me to trust, especially when it comes to men. I’ve had too many bad experiences.”
My gaze locks hold of hers. “So let me be a good experience.”
“You don’t take no for an answer do you?”
My mouth edges up, I let go of her arm and we step out of the elevator. “How about this? I stop being needy and buy you breakfast. There’s a place close by that has the best pecan caramel waffles you’ll ever eat. And you make an effort to stop placing old judgments on me and take what I do at face value.”
She thinks over my offer for a moment then nods. “Okay, it’s a deal,” she agrees.
And there it is. The smile that makes the muscles in my stomach contract. Trying to not break out into song and dance, I walk her over to my bike.
“And who the hell says swerve anymore?” I tease her.
“I was trying not to be vulgar,” she states.
“You’re adorable, you know that?” I hand her the extra helmet, secure the duffel bag, then throw a leg over the seat. Standing, legs straddling the motorcycle, I slip on my sunglasses, helmet and get the ol’ girl to roar to life after three kickstart attempts. Sitting down, I reach out and help Ivy slide on behind me. Her arms wrap around my waist and I’m immediately transported back to the night we left Rex’s on my bike.
“Ever been on the back of a bike before, Miss Monroe?”
“A long time ago.”
“Well, I guarantee it wasn’t a 1974 Norton Commando.”
“Can’t say I remember.”
Picturing her on the back of some other guy’s bike makes me jealous. No doubt about it. “So your old boyfriend had a motorcycle?” I ask.
“What?”
“The last time we did this, you told me you’d been on the back of a bike before.”
She chuckles. “Yeah. My dad’s. He didn’t have it for very long, but I remember going for a ride once. My mom flipped out and made him get rid of it. She said they were too dangerous.”
Huh.Well, I wasn’t expecting that revelation, but I can’t help the huge smile on my face or the light feeling that suddenly drifts over me. “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “You’re in good hands.”
