Page 136 of Forced Vows

"Traci!" I yelp.

Jayzuz, Mary and Joseph. All we need now is for Miceli to decide my friends are a security risk.

"Worse than that, I'm the COO of Oscuro Enterprises." He winks at Traci.

I stifle the groan that wants out. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking you home. Get on."

"That?" It's not my finest moment.

But I've never ridden on a motorcycle. Just another one of the things forbidden to a mob princess. I doubt mafia princesses get any more freedom than me and my cousins though. So, this is a calculated move on Miceli's part.

He's already figured out how much I crave things forbidden.

I want to ride on the back of that motorcycle so much my teeth ache. Even if it means putting my arms around Miceli's strong torso.

Maybe even more so because of that little detail.

How many chances will I get to ride it?

I doubt an underboss's wife is encouraged to do something so carefree.

"Here." He holds up a soft pink leather jacket and I slide my arms into it without hesitation.

It fits perfectly, even when it's zipped.

"Have fun!" Traci says as a classic Mustang rumbles into the parking lot. "That's my ride."

We hug.

"See you Monday," she says.

"Stay out of trouble," I yell as she walks away.

But I don't think my friend is the one who needs that warning.

The black helmet fits just as perfectly as the leather jacket. Either he got it for me or the other women he's given rides to have a head the same size as mine.

I don't like the thought, but I ask him about it anyway. "How many women have you had on the back of this bike?"

"None." He puts on his own helmet, dropping the visor and becoming a mysterious stranger.

No one would recognize him now, except maybe me. I know the shape and muscular contours of his body intimately.

Like a lot of other women.

But none of them are going to marry him, are they?

Even knowing exactly who he is and what he is to me, something deep inside gives a shudder of atavistic fear acknowledging that this man is dangerous.

He mounts the bike and puts his hand out to help me climb on behind him. My inner thighs grip his hips and I'm really glad I'm wearing jeans today.

With a grip on both of my thighs, he yanks me forward until I'm pressed indecently close to him. I don't try to scoot back, but lean forward and wrap my arms tightly around his middle.

"Good girl."

The shivers that go through me when he says those two words have nothing to do with fear.

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