Page 8 of Things We Burn

I tore my gaze off the bike and focused on him. The night was thick and closing in fast, but there was enough glow from the streetlights to show the sincerity on his face.

Though I didn’t know anything about the man beyond his name, nickname and profession—ifdaredevilwas a profession—I got the impression he was somewhat experienced with women. The wantonness in his gaze, the ease in which he’dsauntered over to me... The fact that he was rich and famous and handsome. Yes, he’d had experience.

But he wasn’t assuming because I’d said yes in a crowded room while holding a drink meant I couldn’t change my mind before going to a second location with him. He was making sure I still wanted this.

Kane Rhodes was sexy.

Kane Rhodes establishing consent was somehow even sexier.

“No,” I stated firmly, squaring my shoulders. “I do not want to go back to the party.”

It was the safer option.

But tonight, just for tonight, I wanted to dance with this devil.

Although he might’ve just asked the gentlemanly question, the grin that stretched upon his face was most definitely devilish.

His grip flexed at my hip.

“Don’t worry.” His tongue darted out to wet his plump lips. “I won’t go too fast.”

“You better go too fast,” I raised a brow at him. “I’m expecting you to live up to your reputation.”

He blinked at me, then his face got hungry and sexy, and my pussy pulsated.

Actually pulsated.

I didn’t think men could literally make that happen.

“Jesus,” he muttered, grabbing the back of my neck and yanking me to him so our lips crashed together.

My body responded to him immediately and violently. I was ready to climb up his body like it was a tree, so I could grind my pussy against his hard cock.

I knew his cock was hard because our bodies were pressed together.

He was well-endowed.

Verywell-endowed.

“I need to get you home,” he rasped against my lips. “Or else I’m gonna bend you over this fucking bike.”

Another pussy pulse. In fact, that may have been a full body pulse.

“I am gonna do that.” He brushed hair from my face before tucking it behind my ear. “But maybe not right outside a party full of assholes.” He nodded his head in the direction of the thumping music.

I didn’t quite know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. Keeping my mouth shut was good because I feared I would tell him I didn’t care about the assholes and beg him to fuck me against the bike right there and then.

And although that prospect was erotic and exciting at that moment, a voice at the back of my head told me I’d eventually regret doing something like that.

Me getting bent over a motorcycle was not the kind of publicity I wanted.

He moved backward, but not before kissing me quickly again on the lips, slipping his tongue in once more so I could taste the champagne he’d sipped from my glass.

I stood rigid and somewhat unsteady on my feet as he stepped away and did something near his bike.

“Helmet,” he said, slipping something tight onto my head.

I didn’t complain, though I worried about the helmet hair I’d be sporting when we got to our destination. Never in my life had I worried about how my hair looked more. And I was not a woman bothered by that kind of stuff.

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