Page 26 of Skin Deep

His eyes on her, and hers on him, she hiked her skirt up to her hips before straddling the bike. She could feel his stare like a touch as it raked over her bare legs from ankle to hip, a sexy smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“See something you like?” She deliberately echoed the words he’d once spoken to her, and his quick intake of breath told her he remembered. He closed the space between them, and she expected him to swing one of those long legs over the bike, to straddle it in front of her. Instead he opened a compartment and pulled out two helmets. Placing one on his head, he pulled out his phone, swiping and tapping, before dressing her in the matching one.

The one-hit wonder by ’80s music icon Tiffany flooded her ears through the helmet, and Amy laughed out loud with delight. She couldn’t see Fred’s mouth, but the crinkles around his eyes told her that he was smiling, too, as he climbed onto the bike in front of her. Reaching behind him, he took her hands and urged her to wrap her arms around his waist. She did, squeezing him tightly as he started the bike.

They were from different worlds. This could never last.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it while it did.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“WANT ME TO take you home?” Fred used the speaker function so that Amy would be able to hear him inside her own helmet. She didn’t reply with words, but he could feel her shaking her head. Rather than stopping the bike to ask where she wanted to go, he took a chance and navigated them to his apartment building.

He parked the bike in the underground garage and cut the engine. He climbed off, removed his helmet, then took Amy’s off for her. Her blond curls were slightly flattened, her cheeks red from the wind, her signature red lipstick long gone.

He thought she was beautiful.

“How was that?” He grinned at her as he helped her climb off the bike. Her arms were icy cold, and he ran his hands up and down them to help her warm them. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“Best thing I’ve ridden today.” Deliberately, she adjusted her tiny skirt, but not before giving him a sneak peek of the pretty pink folds barely covered by that excuse for her underwear.

“Should I take that as a challenge?” He hooked a finger in the front of her T-shirt, tugging her against him. When she was close enough, he slid his palm down, through the valley between her breasts, over her flat belly and beneath the hem of her skirt. Tucking his hand between her legs, he nudged past her thong and slid two fingers inside, without resistance. “That’s what I thought. You’re fucking soaked.”

“I can’t imagine why.” She widened her legs, whimpering when he pulled out, then thrust back in. “I just spent the last two hours riding a giant vibrator, pressed up against this.”

She reached around his torso, hands stroking over the curves of his ass. The flash of her pretty pussy as she’d climbed off the bike had brought him to half-mast, and now, with her hands on him, and her liquid heat bathing his fingers, he felt his cock fill.

She moved her hands, heading for his erection like a homing beacon, but he caught her around the wrists. He walked backward, pulling her along with him toward the elevator.

“Is this your building?” Those big eyes of hers took in the sleek, modern lines of the elevator, as well as the fact that he didn’t have to press buttons for any floors, merely tap a key card for the elevator to start moving upward. He wasn’t nervous for her to see his place, not exactly, but...okay, yeah. He was apprehensive. He didn’t care about the wealth disparity between them at all, but he knew that insisting she not care, either, would just be a display of his privilege.

She was quiet as they rode up, and silent as the elevator opened right into his apartment. Each floor in this building only had one unit—his brother, Frank, lived two floors beneath him. He followed her out, heard the hiss of the doors closing behind them as they stepped into his place, and he looked over the hardwood and massive windows of his living room, tensely waiting for her reaction.

She wandered to the window, which was a floor-to-ceiling span of glass. He joined her, standing shoulder to shoulder as they looked out over the city of Boston at nighttime. She pressed the fingertips of one hand to the glass, as if testing its thickness.

“Nice view,” she commented, and the knot of nerves in his gut relaxed.

“It’s why I settled on this building.”

“Can I sit here and draw sometime?”

Her question surprised him.

“Of course.” He turned to her, but she was still looking out into the night. “Anytime.”

“Thanks.” Pressing her fingers to the glass again, she tapped, a bit harder than before. “I bet this is pretty sturdy, huh?”

“Two sheets thick. Heat strengthened and shatterproof.” He cocked his head at the question. “Random curiosity?”

“Not at all.” Turning, she met his stare, then fisted her hands in the hem of her T-shirt. Before he could even suck in a breath, she’d pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it away. She did the same with her skirt, wiggling it down and stepping out. “I was wondering if it would hold up to you fucking me against it.”

“Jesus Christ, Amy.” Sweat broke out along his hairline as she ran her hands through her hair, tousling the curls. She stroked her own palms down her body, stroking the side of her neck, cupping her breasts, sliding her hands between her legs. He caught one of them, pressing her hand to his erection, already hard before they’d gotten into the elevator, swelling even more now with her standing in front of him, almost naked. “The things that come out of your mouth.”

“You don’t like the things that come out of my mouth?” Smiling wickedly, she dropped to her knees in front of him and reached for the buckle of his belt. “Maybe you’re more interested in putting something into it, instead.”

He looked down, watching her pretty blond head as she made quick work of his belt and the fastenings of his jeans. He helped her tug his jeans down around his hips and pulled off his own sweater. When she rose halfway, placing her hands on his hips for balance, he slid both hands into her hair, tugging gently.

She gasped, then licked her lips. Their eyes met, and he felt a surge of power—not power over her, but power that she was choosing to give him the gift of herself. It made him want to give her what she wanted, everything she wanted, so he tugged on her hair again, not as gently this time, and savored the resultant gasp.

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