Make Me Up (Killer Style 3)

With its black, red, and shiny stainless steel design, the motorcycle looked sleek, dangerous, and oh so bad for her. Like Cam, it was the last thing she wanted in her life. What she needed was to be alone in her own space, to lose herself in solitude until her heart stopped trying to make a jailbreak from her ribcage. Then she could form a plan. There was no way in hell she’d end up dying behind bars. Not like her father had.

Cam unzipped the leather bag secured to the back of the bike and pulled out a bright crimson helmet before turning around to face her. He must have seen the worry on her face, because his usual cocky grin melted into a soft smile.

“Don’t worry.” Low and steady, his words wrapped around her like a safety blanket, giving her second thoughts about kicking him to the curb.

Then she looked up and forgot to think at all. Staring into his hazel green eyes was like tumbling down a rabbit hole. Unsettling. Thrilling. Totally uncertain. She knew that feeling all too well, and it made her wish she’d gotten one last between the sheets session before cutting off his hot ass. Unbidden, her fingers rose to her lips.

He took a step forward, close enough to touch, and damn she wished he would. He was just what she needed to take her mind off this mess. But that’d bring its own problems. She couldn’t let him in again. Not after he’d laid what was supposed to be a secret bare to the world.

Cam’s gaze lowered and zeroed in on her mouth. He leaned down and brought his lips close enough to her left ear that his warm breath made the sensitive spot behind her earlobe sizzle. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Her belly flipped before it flopped. She wanted—no, needed—to believe him. The shock of realization acted as the trampoline at the bottom of the rabbit hole, bouncing her back to reality.

She inhaled a shaky breath and took a step back to allow some much needed air between them. “Is that ever the case with you?”

“Honey, that’s always the case with me.” He winked and handed her the helmet.

It weighed more than she expected, and she eyed it skeptically. “This is going to fuck up my hair.”

Cam chuckled. “I doubt if anything or anyone fucks with your hair or any other part of you.” He swung a long, muscular leg over the motorcycle and sat down before revving the engine. “Unless, of course, you want them to.” There was that tradema

rk cocky grin. “Come on, live a little.”

What the hell? It wasn’t like the day could get any worse.

She pulled her long, straightened hair into one hand and held it close to her nape, put on the helmet, and got on the motorcycle. There wasn’t much room on the seat for her nowhere near tiny ass, but she tried to keep as much space as possible between herself and Cam’s denim clad butt without falling off the back of the bike.

What was she supposed to do with her hands? Hold the back of the bike? Put them around him?

“I’m not going to bite.” His voice came through the helmet’s bluetooth-enabled speaker, soft and tempting as all hell. “You better hold on if you don’t want to bounce off.”

That did it. Against her better judgment, she scooted forward on the leather seat, making sure her orange chiffon French Connection skirt stayed tucked under her thick thighs. The action would ensure she didn’t give Harbor City a show when they went flying down the streets, but the filmy material provided little protection from the instant click of awareness that hit as soon as she settled in with her center against Cam.

Heat rushed through her, battling with the instant thrill from the speed at which they took off from the curb. Acting on instinct, she wrapped her arms around Cam’s solid torso, and they shot through the intersection. They took a right onto Harbor Parkway, heading straight for her apartment downtown.

She should have been petrified with the speed, the turns, and Cam. Instead, she felt exhilarated as they whizzed past block after block of people hurrying from one place to another. She’d never been so alive.

Drea’s legs and more northernly body parts were still vibrating from the ride over when she unlocked her apartment door and took a step inside. Keeping her hand on the door, she pivoted to block Cam’s entrance. He spared no more than a brief glance at her hand as he squeezed his big body through the small opening between her and the doorframe.

“A chameleon would have a heart attack in here,” he quipped as he made a slow circle and took in her decor.

Calling it bright would be an understatement, but the riotous mixing of the goldenrod painted walls, mossy green love seat, and melon-colored pillows made her smile every time she walked in. She’d grown up trying to fit in despite her coarse hair, dark brown skin, and wide nose that marked her as being totally different from the WASPy rich kids in her neighborhood. She’d barely even gotten a chance to open her mouth to say hello before she’d seen it in their eyes. They’d never accept her as one of them.

There were some zip codes in the world where standing out was worse than being ignored, and she’d grown up in one of them. But she’d moved on, and her living room showed just how far. It was hers. It looked like her, it felt like her, and she wasn’t about to apologize to anyone for it.

She strolled inside. As she passed him, she couldn’t help but let her hand drift close to his bulky frame, and she had to force herself to keep moving instead of grabbing and pinning him against the wall. Getting on the motorcycle with him had been a very bad idea. And now, inside her apartment, it was just the two of them and her revved up engine.

She needed him the hell out of here.

“Good thing you’re not a lizard,” she said. “Even if you can be kind of slimy.”

“It’s part of my charm.” He chuckled.

The sound spilled over her like warm honey, and she struggled not to drown in the sweetness. “Is that what your mother always told you?”

He stiffened. “According to my mother, there was nothing charming about me.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t know what she’d just stepped into, but she was knee deep.