Page 27 of Boiling Point
She didn’t answer—just rested her chin on my shoulder, her silence more persuasive than any argument.
I exhaled. “All right. Not fond of it.”
“Yet you’ll take corners on this beast at eighty miles an hour with me clinging to your back?”
“At least if I wipe out, I’ve got a fighting chance.” I kept my tone light, but it didn’t mask the truth.
Her arms shifted slightly, sharing warmth in the way she was holding me.
“I think I’ll take the long way back,” I said, adjusting my grip on the handlebars. “Back roads. Fewer cars. More curves.”
She went still for half a beat—then pressed in.
“Should be a fun ride,” I murmured.
Her fingers flexed against my jacket, body stiff.
“You flipped a plane upside down yesterday,” I said, glancing back at her. “Surely you can handle a few tight turns.”
Her laugh gusted warm against my neck, but it quickly melted into something else—something quieter and more focused.
I swallowed, suddenly aware of every point where she touched me. “Do you trust me?” I asked.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
The echo hit—my own words turned back on me—and it landed deeper than I was prepared for. I slid my hand along her forearm, found one of her gloved hands, and lifted it to press a kiss to her knuckles.
Then, deliberately, I guided her arms tighter around my waist. “Much better.”
Her laughter was warm, breathy, and far too distracting.
“The ride might get a little wild,” I said, adjusting my grip again. “Best hold on—nice and tight.”
Chapter 12
Gabrielle
“Okay, so how do I work this thing?” I fumbled with the electric kettle Cal had given me.
“First, you add water,” Cal said with a trace of amusement. “Then you plug it in, switch it on, and wait. It’s not rocket science.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his face full of mischief.
I rolled my eyes, filling the kettle with exaggerated care.
“If you have trouble boiling a kettle, I’m genuinely concerned about letting you near the lab kit tomorrow,” he continued, his accent slipping into something painfully posh for effect. “We’ll be adding resistors and capacitors to circuits.”
I tossed a dish towel at him. He caught it easily.
“Very funny.” I set the kettle on its base with a decisive click, refusing to look at him until I could smother my grin.
He tugged me toward him, the towel forgotten on the floor.
Cal kissed along my neck, each touch like a spark. I stood still, caught in the delicious thrill of it, breath going shallow. His lips lingered just below my ear.
“The kettle won’t work if you don’t plug it in,” he whispered, his voice a teasing rumble. “And switch it on.” He pulledback, eyes alight with playful reproach. “Haven’t I taught you anything?”
I laughed, the sound embarrassingly shaky as I plugged in the kettle. The switch, however, eluded me, and I fumbled to find it, growing increasingly frustrated. Before I knew it, Cal was behind me, pressing the flat button at the base of the handle with infuriating ease.
“It was hiding,” I defended weakly.
