Page 60 of Villainous Kingpin
“No need for thanks,” I told her. “Let’s get to my place.”
Her eyes flickered to my bike. “We’re riding that?”
I grinned. “Don’t tell me you’re scared?” I teased, trying to get her mind off things.
“Of course not,” she replied undignified. “I just don’t want to get hurt. I need my legs working perfectly for another ten months or so.” My eyes roamed down her leggings, giving me a perfect view of her curves and shape of her legs.
“Your legs are indeed gorgeous,” I murmured. “I’ll keep them safe, principessa.”
She rolled her eyes. “But is a three-piece-suit the right apparel for a bike ride?” she questioned. “We could take the Jeep,” she suggested.
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about my suit, principessa,” I purred. “Get on the bike. I want to feel those gorgeous legs against mine.”
The truth was that I fucking hated riding my bike in anything but jeans, but I had to leave my car at the warehouse and take the bike in order to get here on time.
Blush colored her cheeks and I had never seen anything so fucking beautiful.
“Fine,” she caved on a sigh.
I swung my leg over the bike seat, then helped her get behind me and handed her a helmet. She fumbled with it and I helped her put it on, her blonde curls peeking underneath it. Once I was satisfied it was secured, I put my own gear on and started the bike. Her hands instantly came around my waist, holding on tight. It felt good having her body pressed hard against mine.
I took the long way to my city home, and with each street behind us, I felt her body relaxing into me. Her slim fingers slid into the loop of my pants and my heart did this weird boom-thump against my ribs. It only did it around her.
It was at that very moment I realized… That the day she landed in my arms was the day I actually started living. She restarted my heart and I’d never let her go.
* * *
I watched Wynter drift through my living room, her slim fingers trailing the surface of the furniture. Every so often she’d stop and study a picture. I didn’t have many and whatever few I had were there because Emory made them and hung them up.
“Priest looks nothing like you,” she observed, throwing me a glance over her shoulder. “Though he seems slightly… ummm… brutal, like you. But the other one looks like you.”
“Dante. He’s Priest’s brother.”
“Yes, Dante.” She moved to the next one. The only one with Dante, Emory, Priest, and I together. “Does your sister live in New York?”
I knew she was just trying to keep her mind off things, but I tensed nonetheless. She didn’t notice it because her attention was on the photograph. We kept a tight lid on Emory’s location and that she ran Las Vegas, fearing if people knew it was a woman, they’d find Vegas an easy target.
“No, not in New York,” I ended up answering.
If Wynter noticed I avoided answering her, she didn’t lead on. “I guess she kind of looks like you. With her dark hair and dark eyes.”
That was pretty much where our resemblance ended. I looked like our father. She looked like our mother.
“Who do you resemble?” I asked.
She shrugged her slim shoulders, her curls bouncing down her back. “My mom and my grandmother.”
A heavy sigh left her and I stood up, coming behind her.
“Everything will be fine.”
She turned around and pressed her face against my chest. “Everything has gotten out of hand,” she murmured against my heart.
I took her chin and lifted her face to mine. My gaze found hers and I pressed my forehead against hers. I opened my mouth to tell her I’d fix it all, but my phone rang.
I kissed the tip of her nose and went back to the couch where I left my phone.
It was Dante. “Yeah,” I answered.
