Cuts Like An Angel by Mason Sabre, Lucian Bane Page B

casting that sexy smile her way.
    Rosie gasped with a huge smile. “You have a motorcycle?”
    His cute smile grew, making everything jiggle and wiggle in her stomach. “You like them?”
    “Oh, I love them.” Rosie fought the need to squeal and jump up and down.
    “I could take you for a ride.”
    “Oh my God you should.” She couldn’t keep from sounding like he’d offered her a ride to the moon.
    He gave a light shrug. “It’s a great day for it.”
    “It is,” she agreed, giddy that he might mean that day.
    “And … maybe I even brought an extra helmet.” He shot her a glance. “In hopes you’d let me show you the countryside?”
    Oh joy and rapture. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said, thrilled.
    “Yeah,” he said, sounding guilty, running a hand through his hair, nervously.
    “No, I mean I would love that.” The squeak she fought won the battle and she even bounced. But it was squeak and bounce worthy.  Him bringing a helmet? That meant he’d planned! That meant he’d thought about them doing stuff! She did happy jigs in circles in her mind before gasping to herself. Oh God, she’d get to sit behind him and touch him.
    “What’s wrong?”
    She turned wide eyes up to him, realizing she’d gasped. “Uh. Do you think it’s okay if I leave my car here?” she made up quickly.
    “It’s fine,” he said. “Or if you wish to drive it home I can follow you and take you back later?”
    She thought quickly through her options. Driving home meant she wouldn’t get to touch him till after. And with her luck, something would happen between that second and her drive home and she’d lose the chance. “I’ll just leave the car here.” She’d leave it there forever, she realized. Just to get that ride with him. She’d drive that junk bucket off a cliff maybe. For that ride.
    Suddenly they were at his bike and she was breathless with excitement, feeling like it was an impossible dream come true.
    “You’re not afraid, are you?”
    She turned a smile up at him and shook her head. “Just bloody excited,” she said in her best English accent. She marveled in dreamy awe at his boom of laughter. So strong and yet soft, gentle. Her smile got so big it hurt as she made note to make him laugh more—such a beautiful sound that brought bubbly champagne to her insides.
    He unhooked one of the helmets and handed it to her, then put his own on before inspecting she’d done hers properly. “Don’t stare at me!” she whined. “I probably look like one of those bobble heads.”
    He smiled, adjusting the chin strap. “You look cute, actually.”
    “So do you,” she blurted, not meaning the kind he meant.
    “I’m sure,” he said, climbing on.
    She put her hands on his shoulders, eyeing the height of the seat before climbing on.
    “Hold on to the thumb hooks,” he instructed.
    Thumb hooks? Oh dear, okay. She reached in front of him and hooked her thumbs in his belt loops. “Like that?”
    “Actually, they’re behind you,” he said, laughter in his tone.
    Shame lit her face to a thousand degrees. “Oh shit,” she muttered. “Sorry, we usually hold on to the driver in America.”
    “You can if you want,” he said. “It’s just safer to hold the thumb hooks. But I will be careful so ...”
    So …? So what? Geeze. “It’s fine, I’ll hold the bar.” She reached behind her and held tight, not liking the feel of that position. He moved the bike off the kickstand and the sudden motion sent her arms flying around his waist in a death grip. “I swear I’m not wanting to grope you,” she half lied. “But this feels safer.”
    “That works fine for me,” he said, sexy all over in his voice. Like it worked very fine for him.
    “Okay, maybe I am a little nervous,” she admitted. “Don’t laugh at me.”
    He chuckled, and this time it vibrated into the entire front of her body and under her fingers. “You’re doing great.”
    Great. He was great under that tight shirt. She