Page 50 of Spike

He cupped my face.“Yeah, I’m sure.”

I wrinkled mynose. “But it’s not like you’re the type to say, ‘Hey, Trixie, you shouldchange because those jeans make you look fat,’ are you?”

“Baby, what’d wesay about you calling yourself fat?”

“It’shypothetical.”

“Don’t fuckin’care if it’s in a dream, you knock that shit off.”

I rolled my eyesand huffed out, “Fine. I’ll rephrase.”

“Don’t,” heordered. “You look gorgeous. So gorgeous in fact, I’m having a hard time notstripping you naked and fucking you on your floor.”

I let out a quietgasp and gripped the edges of his jacket. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want ittoo and it makes it harder to resist you.”

“So, don’t resistme.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss me, and I looped my arms around his neck,slipping my fingers into his hair.

I sighed againsthis mouth, forcing myself to break the connection, dropping my head to hischest. “You make things impossible, Mr. Kane.”

“I’m wearing youdown, Ms. Mitchell.”

I met his eyes.“I’m not that much of a challenge, Spike.”

“I’m a patientman, baby, and you’re worth the wait.”

“Even if you haveto wait until marriage?”

“I’ll marry youtomorrow, Trixie, don’t doubt it.”

“Well, as sweet asthat is, it’s not going to happen.”

“I’m aware.” Hesmiled gently. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“Really?”

“Really,” heavowed, kissing me again. “But we need to go or I’m gonna fuck you on yourfloor.”

I nodded, grabbingmy jacket, and following him out the door.

** *

Pulling into theparking lot of an auto body shop called ‘Big Ernie’s,’ Spike backed his bikeinto a space near the side door and turned off the engine. “Go ahead and climboff, baby.”

I did so, rathergracefully, if I did say so myself. Of course, he’d had to give me a fulltutorial on my first ride with him, but we weren’t going to mention thecolossal failure that was (at least, in terms of me getting off the bike).

He put thekickstand down and climbed off, removing his helmet before helping me withmine. “You good?”

“I’ll tell youwhen you hand me my bag so I can check my hair and makeup.”

He chuckled,opening one of his saddlebags, and pulling out my purse and our purchases. Ifound my mirror and turned toward the flickering light on the outside of thebuilding to check my appearance. I groaned. I not only had helmet head, buthelmet face.

“Oh, crap, I looklike a chipmunk with a nut allergy.”

My cheeks werepuffy and splotchy and my eyes were watery from the cold.

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