Page 30 of 1 Last Shot

“Is that the most vulgar thing you’ve ever said out loud?” he asks.

I straighten with a sigh. “Yes. And I don’t like that you brought it out of me.”

He huffs a laugh at that. I decide Ilikethe sound of Kane’s laugh.

When it’s quiet again, I start to fidget with the bottom of my tank top. Eventually, I force myself to ask, “Are we going to talk about what happened?”

His stare heats to a thousand degrees. Just the sight of it has me growing damp between my legs, and suddenly I’m remembering the feel of him against me, his scent, his dirty words in my ear—

“No,” he answers, interrupting my spiral of thoughts. “Not unless your answer is for me to leave you alone.”

And then he waits. He waits for me to tell him off, to yell at him for touching me like that. He waits for me to say I didn’t want it.

I don’t tell him to leave me alone.

He studies me for a moment, then he nods. "Let's go then."

I rush to grab my bag because he's already pulling the door open and striding into the hallway.

And then I slam to a halt when I realize I completely forgot about Kane’s mode of transportation.

“Um,” I mumble when we reach the sidewalk. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Kane just stares at me, like he has no idea why I'm freaking out. When I absolutely know hedoes, because I swear I can see a hint of a smirk on his mouth.

"What? It's transportation."

"It's a death trap on two wheels. Plus, I have a bag, and I don't have a helmet. So it's physically impossible for me to get on that thing."

Kane quirks an eyebrow and doesn't take his eyes off me as he opens a compartment on the back of the bike. He pulls out a helmet and gestures at the empty space he created.

Still, I fidget nervously. He waits patiently as I make up my mind, not rushing me as I look nervously around—expecting my keys to appear out of thin air?—but not quite managing to stop himself from saying with a teasing lilt, "Come on, princess, in the time it takes you to flag down a taxi, I could already have you home and sitting in a nice little lavender-scented bubble bath."

My eyes narrow at him. Finally, I hike my bag higher on my shoulder and grumble, "It's eucalyptus."

I don't get a reply, but I do catch his lip twitch with an almost-smile.

"Alright fine," I concede with a sigh. "But if I die, I'm dragging you to the hospital with me." Then I stuff my bag into the compartment and take the helmet from Kane's hands.

I pull it on my head and start to buckle the chin strap, but I can't see what I'm doing, and I'm clearly fumbling it. It isn't until I let out a frustrated growl that Kane takes pity on me.

"Such a furious little ballerina," he murmurs, his lip curling into a smirk. He reaches to attach the strap for me.

I suck in a breath at his sudden closeness. His eyes are glued to my chin area as he works, which gives me free rein to let my gaze wander over his face.

The first time I saw him, I noticed his lack of smile lines. And I thought the absence of them was shocking. But now, looking at him when he has a smile on his face, I realize…that’swhat’s shocking. Because Kane happy is a showstopper.

When he slots the buckle into place and lifts his eyes to meet mine, he must notice that he's showing me too much, because his expression immediately shutters into that familiar hard look. Then he's turning away to pull his own helmet on and climb on to the motorcycle.

Hesitantly, I brace a hand on his shoulder and ready myself to swing my leg over the back seat.

"So, this is just a spare helmet you carry around with you in case a damsel in distress needs a ride?" I ask unthinkingly, more focused on getting on the bike without tipping it over and making a fool of myself.

"You're pretty far from a damsel in distress, Isabella."

I smother a pleased smile at that, then work up my courage to push off the passenger foot pedal. A second later, I'm settled comfortably on the leather. "That hardly answered my question, Kane."

There's a pause before he replies.

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