Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(47)

She was such a fool…

“The hospital called Chris in,” she told Jake now, squirming against his embrace, but that only made him hold her tighter and her pulse, never steady around him, slammed into overdrive when her hardened nipples brushed his chest.

“Quite a guy you got there,” he said, a sardonic grin tipping his lips, his eyes flashing in the lights of the passing cars. The city was a cacophony of noises around them, but all she heard was his low, sexy voice. “Leaving you to finish dessert by yourself.”

“He had an emergency surgery, you big dolt!” she hissed, then realized she still might be able to salvage this evening and its initial intent. Ignoring the feel of him against her, so large and strong, she smiled and fluttered her lashes. “Oh, did I fail to mention Chris is a surgeon?”

A terribly boring surgeon who any sane girl with half a brain would kill to have. Ugh!

“Yo, I don’t give a flying f*ck if he’s the goddamned president of the United States,” he growled, pulling her closer until the heat from his big body surrounded her, inexplicably causing goose bumps to burst over her skin. “That doesn’t change the fact that you were bored to death.”

Had it been that obvious?

Yep, clearly it had been. Dangit!

“Fine,” she conceded since there was no use in denying it. He’d see her lie for what it was. “I’ll give you that but—”

“So, if you did this just to make me jealous, sweetheart,” he leaned in close, his nose nearly touching hers, “it worked.”

“I didn’t do it make you jealous!” She jerked out of his embrace and immediately lamented the move when the cool wind whipped around her. “I did it to prove to you, once and for all, that what we had is over.”

“Yeah?” he asked, one brow raised sardonically. She was overcome with the urge to wipe the smirk from his face by smacking him upside the head with her handbag. “And how’d that work out?”

“Oh, what does it matter?” She wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders and took a step toward the curb and the waiting taxi. This night couldn’t end soon enough. “The date is over. I’m going home.”

“Not yet.” He grabbed her arm and started herding her down the sidewalk. Pedestrians instinctively gave way to him and female heads turned to watch him walk by. Ugh!

“What do you mean?” she demanded, yanking on her arm, but he refused to release her.

“I mean, right now you’re coming with me.”

When they stopped beside his motorcycle, parked at an angle on the side of the street, she was finally able to wrench her arm from his grasp.

“I’m not riding that,” she declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. “For one thing, it’s forty-five degrees out here. And for another, I’m wearing a dress.”

By way of answer, he shrugged out of his thick motorcycle jacket and slung it around her shoulders. The heat from his body was caught in the leather along with his warm, clean, beachy smell.

God, help me. Her entire body tightened in response.

“The skirt you can hike up until we get there,” he said, handing her the helmet he’d draped over a set of sparkling, chrome handlebars.

“I will not!” she huffed. “Even if it wouldn’t be nearly indecent, I can’t travel twenty blocks up to Lincoln Park. I’ll freeze to death before we get there.”

“We’re not going to Lincoln Park. We’re only going as far as Michigan Avenue.”

“Michigan Avenue? What’s on Michigan Avenue?” she asked, eyeing the smooth way he swung a leg over the menacing-looking bike. With its reptilian paint job, studded black leather detailing, chrome exhaust, and vicious, serpent-inspired rims, the motorcycle looked like something you’d see in a fantasy magazine, not something you’d actually ride.

“You’ll see,” he told her, scooting up on the seat to give her room.

As if she was really going to mount up behind him. The guy had a wild imagination; she’d give him that.

“I told you I’m not going.”

“You’ll go even if I have to pick you up and set you on the back of Viper myself.”

Viper? It had a name?

Of course it did. Men named everything.

“I’d like to see you try,” she crossed her arms. The move was a bit awkward given she was still holding his helmet. “I’m nearly six feet tall. I weigh a lot more than you think.”

A sudden gleam entered his eyes that had her catching her breath. “I didn’t seem to have any problem holding you up against that wall inside the Clover.” Oh my God! Why did he have to bring that up? Now, she fought the urge to cry. “I figure I’ll manage just fine now.” He turned his head to the side and lifted a brow. “Or do you need me to prove it?”

“This is ridiculous.” She shoved the helmet at him, blinking back sudden tears. “I’m hailing a cab and going home.”

“Get. On. The. Bike. Shell,” he grumbled, dipping his chin, glaring at her out from under his sandy brows.

“Get bent, Jake,” she choked, hoping he mistook her anguish for anger.

“Okay,” he sighed, swinging from the back of the bike. “You asked for it.”

He lifted her into his arms as if she weighed nothing.