Page 21 of Red Flag Bull

And now I have to wear my desperation to please him, like a stinking cloak of shame. Great. At least it’ll hide my milk-soaked chest and keep the wind at bay. It’ll give me more time to break the news to him gently.

It won’t really be news, I suppose. I’ve been a colossal fuckup since he met me, so it should come as no surprise to him that I’ve made more mistakes.

I pull on the jacket, disgusted with myself for being so pathetic, especially when I push my hand through the sleeve I’ve even made damp on the inside.

“Come.” He walks away.

I follow him like a dog. Except he doesn’t want me at his heel, so I have to keep a few paces behind. I don’t make any assumptions when we get to his bike. Not that there are many assumptions to make. It’s clearly only made to seat one.

“You were going to sleep in this park tonight?” he asks, unlocking something on his bike below the padded seat. He then lifts the motorcycle’s seat right off, flips it, and extracts a little kit from its interior.

For a moment, I think he’s going to give me something from it. Some new thing I’ll have to fuck myself with. Is that the message he wants me to receive? Go fuck yourself, Amanda?

He doesn’t hand me anything, and from the clinking metal sounds he’s making as he searches inside the little leather bag, it’s probably tools.

You can fuck yourself with tools.

Jason sets the small kit aside, having found what he was looking for. It’s small, silver, and thin, and I couldn’t do much with it in terms of fucking.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he growls, not even looking at me.

“Yes,” I reply quickly, only just remembering he asked a question. “I was going to sleep there.”

“Why?” He keeps his attention on his work, using the tool to adjust something on the underside of his seat.

My throat starts to ache, and I look down the street at the lights of the city. “I like parks. And it seemed safer than some other places.”

He stills. “What other places?”

I shrug. “Alleys and doorways?”

“How do you know?” He unwinds a screw and puts it into the pocket of his smart, office-worthy slacks. “Is that where you slept last night?”

“No.” I never would have imagined him in a suit, but he’s as sexy in business wear as he was in torn jeans and black T-shirts. “I just assumed I wouldn’t be harassed if nobody could see me.”

He grunts softly in agreement. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“Lucinda’s.” I say her name so quietly I’m surprised he hears.

“Your sister?” He frowns and puts another screw in his pocket, before putting his little tool and its kit away again. “She lives near here?”

“Across town.”

He watches me a moment, like he’s trying to see inside me.

I wrap my arms around myself, making sure to cover my chest, in case he can see through his jacket.

“I’ll take you there,” he says. He removes a section of the motorbike’s seat and puts it into his backpack, before fitting the rest back onto the machine and fixing it in place.

I stare at his sexy bike. He’s unlocked a second seat and made it so two can ride on it now. He flicks down a set of well-hidden pillion pegs where a passenger can set their feet, and my heart leaps into a gallop. All I want to do is climb on behind him, wrap my arms around his strong body, and ride wherever he takes me. Like old times.

But these aren’t the old times.

He’s not offering to take me someplace beautiful and secluded, so he can love my body and soul with everything he has. He’s offering to take me to a home that’s no longer mine. If it ever even was.

“I can’t go back there,” I whisper.

Jason steps closer and exhales like an angry bull. “Why not?”

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