Page 120 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
“You looked hot as hell in it.”
I don’t reply. I’m too busy squirming against the tickle between my legs.
“Hey Sadie?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t fucking wait.”
Miles looks like he could be on the cover of a magazine. Some outdoorsy fitness magazine. Not the kind where he’s climbing a mountain, but a gorgeous guy who works out in some underground urban gym with thick ropes to climb, huge tires to flip, and plenty of weights to lift.
He shows up at my place in dark jeans and a black button down that contrasts stunningly with his light hair and eyes. The sleeves are rolled up about halfway to his elbows, and his forearms are corded and sexy. I need to get a better look at those tattoos, too.
And his hands. I didn’t get a good look at them in the dim lighting of the bar the night before, but I felt them. They’re big and strong and perfectly shaped.
God, those long, thick fingers…
One of which was inside me last night…
Already I’m feeling the anticipation between my legs.
“You look beautiful.” He steps close and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
Goose bumps skitter across my flesh. “Thank you. You look great too.”
“Don’t make me blush.” He smiles and…shit, a dimple appears. “Shall we?”
I’m a curvy woman, but Miles Bridger makes me feel almost petite. He’s got to be six-five at least, and his shoulders are broad and beefy. I’m the one in law enforcement, the one who does the protecting, but right now, I feel…feminine. Small. Protected.
He takes my elbow and leads me down the front walk. He opens the passenger door for me and I step up into the huge truck. I know it belongs to the Bridger Ranch, not only because I’ve reviewed their vehicle registrations as part of my investigation, but because there’s no way Miles would buy a truck like this. I picture him in a sleek Jaguar or a muscle car.
“No bike?” I ask as he pulls away from the curb.
He glances over at me, raking his gaze down my body. “Can’t wear that skirt on the back of a bike. If anything’s going into your panties tonight, it’s going to be me.”
Oh. My. God. I smooth the short hem. My cheeks heat when he chuckles.
I don’t say anything as he makes his way out of town. Once we’re on the road toward Silverton, he turns on some jazz.
“I love jazz,” I tell him, thankful for a topic other than my panties.
“Do you? Me too.”
I fidget a little. “So what do you do? I mean, for a job. At home. New York, right?”
Great, I’m babbling.
“Yes. New York. I build custom bikes. Sometimes cars, but mostly bikes. I’ve got my own business, but something tells me you already know this.”
Busted. “I know the basics from my investigation, nothing else.”
“I figure you know my blood type and dick size,” he murmurs.
I gasp and whip my head his way.
He’s smirking. “B negative, and you can measure the other thing yourself later.”
“Confident much?”
