Page 42 of Under My Skin
I shake my head. “No way. I’ll be fine.”
“Luce.”
“You’re wearing short sleeves!” I gesture toward him. “I’m not taking your jacket.” If anything, I think the cold might help sober me up, but I’m not about to tell him that.
“And if you’re cold now, what do you think will happen with the wind when we’re driving on the main road?”
My eyes narrow. “And if we crash, what do you think will happen to your arms when they’re dragged against the main road?”
Amusement flashes in his features. “Well, I’m going to try very hard not to do that.”
I hold his stare, not backing down.
Everett steps toward me until I’m forced to look up at him. “Look, I appreciate the concern. It’s flattering, really.” He opens the jacket and puts it around my shoulders. “But I’m not asking.”
The scent of leather meshes with the woodsy smell of him, and it’s enough to make my knees go weak. Add the way he’s holding my stare, and I might as well collapse right here in my vodka-induced state.
“Fine.” I shrug my arms through the sleeves. “Happy now?” I ask, with my arms outstretched. His jacket is huge on me, the sleeves going past my wrists.
A warm, deep chuckle leaves him. “Very.” Getting on his bike, he pulls his helmet over his head and starts the engine. Damn, he looks good. My eyes wander over the intricately inked lines on his arms, taking in every curve of lean muscle along the way. He beckons me to come forward, and my heart pounds in my chest.
I didn’t think I could be more terrified to get on a motorcycle than I was this morning. I was practically hyperventilating. But the thought of riding the roads late at night, in the dark, while I have a decent amount of vodka in my system, definitely takes the cake.
“What are you doing?” Everett asks, his head tilting.
I’m bouncing on my toes slightly and shaking out my arms like Rocky about to go into the ring.
I still my feet, but my arms still have some nerves they’re trying to shake out. “Trying to build up some courage, I think.”
Everett laughs again, and it does something to ease the adrenaline running through my veins. “Would you come here? You look ridiculous.”
I have no doubt he’s right. Taking a steadying breath, I force my feet forward. When I reach him, I jolt as he grasps one of my hands hidden beneath the sleeve of his jacket.
“You’re going to be fine,” he says absently as he works on cuffing my sleeve. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
His head tilts upward like he’s looking at me for confirmation, so I nod.
Moving to the other arm, he does the same thing. “We aren’t far from the apartment, and I promise to take things slow.”
I’m not sure if it’s the vodka or the phrasing of those last words, but this suddenly feels a lot more intimate than it did this morning. Heat warms low in my stomach at the thought of what else he might be able to take slowly. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this much of a physical reaction from someone that I almost don’t recognize what it is, but Everett Meyers is definitely turning me on. The realization spikes new panic. I was attracted to him, thatmuch is obvious. But the sudden urge I have to act on that attraction is both terrifying and tempting in equal parts.
He helps with my helmet and then points to where I’m supposed to put my foot, so I mimic what we did this morning. Gripping his shoulder for support, I hoist myself up and over the bike. The warm rumble of the engine beneath me brings back the familiar edge of fear, and I try to breathe through it.
Turning in his seat, Everett helps put his spare helmet over my head. He makes sure it’s snug, and I give him a thumbs up once it’s on well enough.
He faces forward, and I wrap my arms around his waist. This morning, his jacket created a thicker barrier between my hands and his stomach, but with nothing but a black shirt between my fingers and his skin, I’m keenly aware of the muscular frame that lies beneath.
Everett revs the bike a few times, and I hold on a little tighter at the rush of sound. He makes riding this thing seem effortless with how seamlessly he pulls out of the parking lot and merges onto the main road.
After a few minutes of driving, we’re far enough away from the busy traffic, and I can finally relax a little. I no longer feel like every car we pass is going to surely cause my untimely demise—mostly because there aren’t many cars around at this point.
The light in front of us turns from green to yellow, and Everett slows the bike to a stop. He probably could have made it. If I were driving my car, I would have gone for it. But the fact that he didn’t has my heart fluttering in ways it shouldn’t. My arms loosen around him, but only a little. Only enough for my fingers to lightly graze over the material of his T-shirt, reminding me of the abs that lie beneath.
Heart pounding in my chest, I let my fingers roam, following the path of my own mildly-drunken temptation lower.
And a little lower.
And lower still.
