Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(14)
His eyes get warm again. It’s even more disarming, now that we’re alone.
“Delilah, trust me when I say… yes.”
With considerable effort, I ignore his comment. “Well, then you realize I can’t sit on a motorcycle in this. I’ll draw more attention than a parade float during St. Anthony’s Feast in the North End.”
“Good thing there’s no one out this time of night, then.”
“That’s not the point and you know it—”
“No.” He takes a step, getting right up in my space, and the words evaporate on my tongue. We’re so close, his chest nearly brushes mine with each exhale. “The real point is, longer you stand here debating with me, lighter that sky gets, more people start waking up, looking out their windows…” He trails off, shrugging. “Your choice, babe. But I’m thinking, since the choices are either walk-of-shame the two hours back to the city in that getup of yours, or I drive us back in twenty on the side streets, fast enough so no one even gets a glimpse at you… I already know which one you’re gonna go with, in the end.”
I open my mouth to protest again — even though he’s right, much as it pains me to admit — but my words are cut off when he lifts the helmet and plunks it down on my head without bothering to ask for permission. It rattles around my ears, ridiculously big on me — I tell him so immediately.
“If you’d just wait a damn minute, I’ll fix it.” With one lip trapped between his teeth in concentration, he grasps the adjustable strap and begins to pull it snug beneath my chin. I stand stock still, staring up at his mouth, trying not to wonder what it would taste like against mine. Pretending not to feel his callused fingertips moving by the hollow of my throat, where my pulse pounds a bit too fast.
Can he feel it?
There’s so much power in those hands. Enough to knock a man unconscious, stone cold before his body hits the mats. Enough to crush a windpipe with minimal effort.
A smarter girl would be afraid to have them so close to her throat, like some inane gazelle who lies down on the prairie and allows a cheetah to lick her. A smarter girl would say thanks but no thanks, I’ll wait for a cab.
I suppose that makes me the stupidest girl alive, because I just stand there watching him with wide eyes, barely breathing, attempting to stave off a heart attack.
As with everything, Luca tackles this task with methodical precision, his large fingers nimble and unhurried as they make adjustments to the straps. I want to snap, hurry up, already, it’s painful to have you this close to me! But since that would further undermine my attempts to act aloof and unaffected, I refrain.
After an eternity, he finally finishes fiddling with the helmet. He takes a step back to view his handiwork, a small crease appearing between his eyes as he examines me.
“How’s it feel?”
With a martyred sigh, I shake my head to test the fit. The helmet still shifts a bit, but it’s much tighter than before.
“Looks good.” Luca nods his approval.
I scoff. “I look like a bobble-head. Or Darth Vader.”
He just blinks at me.
“What?” I snap.
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a Star Wars nerd, that’s all.”
“I’m not a nerd,” I insist, pausing a beat before adding. “You can be a fan of the intergalactic empire without being a nerd.”
His brows lift in amusement.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
I scoff. “You, Luca Buchanan, say more with a single facial expression than most men ever say out loud.”
His eyes glitter with interest. “Been watching me, babe?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Sounds like you have.”
“Can we just get on the damn bike now?”
“In a minute.”
I screech in frustration. “When I resist the bike, you insist I climb on; the minute I want to leave, you decide it’s time for a chat. Make up your mind — indecisiveness isn’t attractive in a man.”
His lips don’t just twitch, this time — they tug up into a full-on smile. And, damn, it’s so sexy I nearly keel over at the sight.
“That your problem with me, Delilah?” He leans closer, bringing those bottomless blue eyes within a foot of my face. “Don’t think I’m decisive enough for you? Should I show you just how decisive I can be?”
Um… Danger!
“Who says I have a problem with you?” I hedge, a little breathless.
“I do.”
“Well…” I swallow hard. “You are wrong.”
“So it’s all in my imagination,” he says slowly.
“Totally.”
“Uh huh.” His eyes narrow. “So, you’re saying I’m off base about the fact that every time I decide to make an appearance at a party, you’re miraculously busy that night.”
“I’m a busy girl.”
“Oh, I bet you are.” He stares at my mouth for prolonged second. “And I suppose I’m hallucinating all those times you bolted from a room as soon as I walked into it.”
“Coincidence,” I say sweetly.
“And the fact that you’re the most polished, put together woman I’ve ever seen, until you catch sight of me and suddenly can’t walk straight or talk in complete sentences?”