Page 34 of A Little Complicated

Annoyance flares in my gut, and my jaw sets. “Oh, so you think he’d be cool with me on the back of it with you?”

“My brother trusts me.”

I laugh dryly. “Jokes on him, right?”

His gaze darkens. “Just get on the motorcycle, Lia.”

“No.”

“Fine.” He marches toward me and tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes until his ass is a few inches from my nose. My gym bag hangs awkwardly on my back and nearly reaches the ground, swaying back and forth with every footstep.

“Are you serious right now?” I smack his butt over and over again. “Let me go, Maverick!”

A loud slap reverberates through the air, instantly followed by a sharp sting against my ass, and I squeal. “Hey!”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it. Now, are you gonna behave, or do I need to smack your ass again?”

My nostrils flare as I hang limply, waiting for him to set me down so I can make a run for it.

“You contemplating all the ways you can kill me?” he asks, and I swear I can hear the smile in his voice. It only pisses me off more.

“You know me too well,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Damn right, I do,” he agrees but sobers slightly. “You know me too, Lia. Do you really think I’m gonna let you walk home by yourself tonight?”

He’s right. He won’t. But it doesn’t mean I want to give in to him.

The blood rushes to my head, and I smack his butt one more time. “I’ll call Griffin or—”

“Will you stop being so damn stubborn?”

My body sags against him. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He sets me back down beside his motorcycle and offers his helmet to me. “Here.”

“That’s yours,” I point out.

“I don’t have my spare. Take it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You can be mad at me all you want, but I need you safe, Ophelia.” He slips the helmet over my messy waves, tilting my chin up and slipping the buckle into place. Satisfied, his mouth lifts with the barest of smiles but disappears as he steps away, putting a breath of distance between us.

If only it was enough to ease the pull in my stomach.

I stand beside the bike, feeling like a fish out of water as he tosses his leg over the motorcycle and pats the space behind him.

“Come on,” he orders.

Tongue in cheek, I climb onto the behemoth and grab the back of the seat right behind my butt.

He starts the motorcycle but doesn’t pull away from the curb. Instead, he glances back at me and waits, a glint of amusement and annoyance shining in his dark depths.

Glowering at him, I shift slightly in my seat. “You, uh, you can go now.”

“Gonna need you to hold on, Opie.”

“Iamholding on.”

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