Page 63 of 1 Last Shot

And takes my mouth in a blistering kiss.

He tightens his grip around me and swallows my gasp. When he slides his tongue across my lower lip, silently demanding entry, it's all I can do to clutch his shirt with shaking hands and comply.

Kane mauls me in a way that leaves me breathless, that short-circuits my brain and turns me into a gasping, needy mess. I'm no longer a participant, I'm merely trying to survive.

I'm panting by the time he pulls away. He seems reluctant as he does it, nipping my lip once, twice, before he pulls back.

"Hi, princess," he rumbles in that gravelly voice.

I'm far too well-kissed to respond to that.

Kane chuckles at what is likely a dazed look on my face. Keeping his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, he reaches for my bag with the other hand and skillfully fits it into the compartment behind him.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," he says finally, handing me my helmet as he reaches for his own.

I pull it on, practically vibrating with excitement as I hop onto the seat behind Kane. I immediately wrap my arms around his waist and plaster myself flush against his back. And I realize that unlike the other times I was on Kane's bike, he's not wearing his black motorcycle jacket. He's wearing dark washed jeans and a simple—but tight—black t-shirt.

I couldn't stop myself from running my hands over his abs even if I wanted to.

"Isabella," he growls, his body stiffening. "Go any lower and we might not even make it back to the apartment."

I hide my smile in his shoulder but obediently move my hands away from where they had started lazily sliding along his waistband. In response, he revs the engine and slowly pulls away from the curb.

I drop my cheek to his shoulder and watch the buildings pass us by. I'm beginning to think the back of Kane's motorcycle is my safe space, because I feel most at peace when I'm here. No thoughts about dancing, no worries about my career or future, no panic about feeling like an outsider in this new city. My brain is silent, and my body is wrapped around the reliable and comforting presence of Kane.

I wonder if driving the bike feels this therapeutic. Maybe it's therapeuticandempowering.

"Have you ever let anyone drive your bike?"

He cocks his head in thought. "No one's ever asked."

"Who would have the balls to ask?" I ask with a chuckle.

"Your balls are plenty big, princess."

A proud smile stretches across my face.

“Do you want to learn?” he asks after a slight pause. “I can teach you.”

“Really?” I squeal, the idea of spending more time with Kane immediately shaking away any lingering fears of his motorcycle. "Oh my God, I wouldlovethat. Yes! Please!"

I only get a grunt of affirmation in response.

A few minutes later, he's pulling into an empty parking lot and turning the engine off, then dropping the kickstand and tucking his helmet into one of the side compartments. I excitedly scramble off the back of the bike.

"Alright, I'm going to slide back and have you sit in front of me so I can keep control of everything," Kane explains. "I trust you, but not that much."

"Thanks," I grumble, sliding my leg over the bike and settling in front of Kane. I reach forward to grip the handlebars.

"Okay, now how do we get going? I want to feel the wind in my hair."

I feel a sharp nip on my shoulder. "Easy, princess. We're not going fast enough to feel the wind. You're going to take it easy today."

I'm pouting, fully expecting my expression to be invisible to Kane. But the bastard must sense it, because I feel another chuckle against my back.

"Alright, the key's already in the ignition, so I want you to start the engine. Just like that. Now,gently, I want you to rev it."

I'm beaming as the loud roar cuts through the sounds of the Naval Yard. I have a huge grin on my face when I turn my face to look back at Kane.

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