Page 124 of Lamb

“One …” Lamb persisted.

I glared at the stupid man. We didn’t have time for this. I could hear the chaos and confusion grow louder. They would soon be—

“Ouch!” I yelped, slapping a hand to my cheek. A dull pain throbbed across the thick skin from the tight pinch of his fingers.

“You weren’t listening.”

“I was.” I slapped away at his hands, pushing out of his hold. “All I have been hearing from you isbabethis,babethat.” I stabbed a finger at his rock-solid chest. “Why the hell are you calling me your babe?”

Incredulous belief rushed through my feet up to the tips of my hair as I saw his lips curve.

“Are yousmiling?”

“Looks like we’re good to go.” Lamb turned abruptly, his wide back rushing towards his bike, swinging one long, limber leg over the machine’s waist and sinking comfortably into the seat. He leaned back, pulling two helmets from the floor, before extending one towards me.

I was cemented to the ground, the interaction still processing in my mind. This man wasunfathomable.

“Come on, babe; we gotta go.” Lamb urged, gesturing with the helmet in his hand.

The noise had grown silent behind me, and the situation began to dawn, breaking through the mental whiplash. I was unsure if it was for better or worse.

“I know,” I grumbled, stomping over to his side. Strength gathered in my legs, and even though my hands shook, I took the helmet without dropping it. If time had allowed, I would fear the power this man now held over me, but fortunately for him, it did not. “And stop calling me babe.”

The material Lamb had draped over my shoulders, I realised, was a thick, protective leather jacket, a little too big for my size but still comfortable around my form. I slid my arms into the sleeves, embracing its warmth. I fiddled with the helmet, refusing Lamb’s lurking hands, and clicked the strap into place. Then I swung my leg up over the side with a lot less ease and practice than Lamb had and slid down onto the smooth black seat.

Lamb fitted his own over his face, leaving only his burning brown eyes piercing through the dark material.

“You have never worn a helmet before.” It was not the time or the moment for the comment, but seeing the jet-black helmet over his head filled me with concern. I would not have enough fingers to count the number of times I had seen him astride his bike, hair blowing in the wind, face exposed to the elements.

“The second my engine starts up, we will have a tail riding my exhaust. Our only hope is to outrun them.” Lamb’s answer only deepened my anxiety. He turned, his tight, muscular body turning to grab the hem of my jacket, fit the zip together, and pull it up beneath my chin. “Any mark on your body should be my making and my making alone.”

His words summoned something in me. Something I had tried to repress.

For the first time since Lamb had left me alone, I felt the cold of my bones and the hollow hole in my chest. I felt how his warmth seeped into my skin. How the firmness of his back fitted against the curve of my chest. How his scent swirled in my lungs and sent fire down to the tips of my toes.

Entranced by the sudden and overwhelming presence of the man who had my heart truly at his mercy, I did not realise he had moved until his fingers locked around my wrists. They fit in perfect rings around my slim arms, pulling me tighter against him until my arms coiled around his tight waist and not even the wind could slip between us.

My breasts plastered against his leather, and though we each had two thick leather layers between us, I could feel the ridge of his muscles and the solidity of his spine. My core singed against the back of his jeans, my nose pressed into the slope of his neck, his warm woodsy scent making me dizzy and dazed.

I gasped as he adjusted on his seat, a searing burn flashing through me faster and hotter than any fever. “Lamb,” I all but moaned in his ear.

“Fuck,” Lamb hissed. “Babe, if you keep purring, I’m not going to be able to ride, and we ain’t got any more time.”

Pressing my palms flat against his rigid arms, Lamb released me. “I’m going to need you to hold on as tight as possible.” Lamb turned his head, his helmet knocking softly against mine. “You let go even a little bit, and I’m pulling over.”

I could not tell whether the lingering woozy sensation was from my panic attack or from lust, and I had neither the time nor the patience to figure it out. Being a second skin to Lamb for the entire ride seemed like torture and pleasure; I could not decide who had it worse. “Got it.”

“We’re going fast,” Lamb continued. “You feel something’s up or isn’t right, you let me know right away. Pinch me if you have to.”

I loosened my hand enough to thumb his tight skin beneath my fingers and pinched.Hard.

The bastard did not even flinch.

“Good girl.” He smirked.

Torture.It was definitely torture.

With those final words carved into my head like a gravestone, Lamb turned the key, and his engine roared to life.

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