Page 12 of Ivory's Ruin Romance

“Don’t doubt my ability to fit things in tight spaces, sweetheart.” He dropped the chain and unhooked the cover. “But no, you won’t be inside.”

SIX

A surge of pride swelled as he tossed over the canvas and revealed his one and only beauty, a Harley Davidson V-Rod that cost almost as much as his tuition. Sleek and black, the motorcycle’s chrome and gold accents showed off their coat of polish under the bright streetlamps.

The leather seat would be just large enough to fit them both, but she’d have zero wiggle room between her and the rear tire.

He looked up from his prize possession and back to Ivory—whose expression was less than impressed. More like terrified.

Her wide eyes finally tore away from the bike and locked onto his. “This…is your car?”

“Like I said, not a car.”

She stared at him, speechless.

“She’s all I got, though,” he added. “As reliable as any other, and a hell of a lot more fun.”

“I can’t ride this,” Ivory whispered, rubbing off the goosebumps on her arms.

He plucked his helmet from the seat and brought it over. What had made her so afraid? She’d trusted him enough to walk all the way here in the dark, so this shouldn’t be too much of a leap of faith. At least, he hoped so.

“I swear on my life you’ll be okay.” He meant it. He never would have intervened if he didn’t trust himself to keep her safe.

She shook her head as if to emphasize the point. “These things are dangerous. I’m—I’m not built for that. I’m the kind of girl who watches from the sidelines, from the safety of her sofa. What if I lean the wrong way and it tips over?”

Her eyebrows pinched together as she groaned. “I’m too drunk for this.”

“Ivory.”

She looked up, relaxing slightly as her eyes met his, but worry lines returned the second they flicked over to the bike.

“I’ve driven this bike for years. Don’t let go, and you’ll be fine.”

She leaned on the streetlight, fighting a battle he already knew she’d give into. Her hands pulled at the ankle strap of one shoe and exposed a painful-looking red line on her skin, while a dark purple tone had crept into the tips of her toes, blending with her sparkly purple nail polish.

His frown deepened. No way would she have made it to the dorms on foot without regretting it in the morning. Her feet deserved better treatment than being strapped into those torture chambers.

She sighed and nibbled on her lip. “I guess I don’t have any other option.” Setting her foot down on what he noticed were tired ankles, she peered at him. “You promise? On the Knight’s code of honor?”

He shook his head. Of all things, she had to ask him to swear on that. Reaching out, he pulled her lip out from her teeth and carefully moved her hair out of the way. “I promise on every code of honor.”

“All right,” she hummed.

“Close your eyes if you want to. It’ll only be a ten-minute ride.” He slipped the helmet over her head and double-checked to make sure it fit. She fiddled with the helmet straps, shifting nervously on her feet. “I haven’t put you in danger yet, have I?” he asked.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders as she stepped towards the bike.

Damn, she looked good. Sexier than he’d been prepared for, with his black helmet framing that gorgeous face. The streetlamp cast a warm glow over her pale skin, where little shadows formed in the pout of her bottom lip, and traveled down the curve of her neck, dipping even lower to pronounce the gentle swell of her breasts. Remnants of her costume clung to her petite waist and fell from hips that could destroy any man.

Visibly calmer, she looked at him through the clear plastic visor. “Are you sure you’re not a secret agent or something?”

He scoffed. “I’m just a guy who rides a bike.”

A smile lit up her face, and shit, it almost transferred to his face, too. She shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him.

“You could be,” she said. “First you come to my rescue, then take me away on a badass bike? It doesn’t get better than that.”

His smile broke loose, and he attempted to hide it by swinging one leg over the bike. “What if I’m a spy for the wrong side?”

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