She hiked up her cute little dress and did what he said. After she’d settled into the seat, she tugged it down and wriggled to get comfortable.
“Counselor, are you wearing a garter belt?” He handed her his helmet, and she felt herself blush at the twinkle in his eye. Mortification flooded her, and she pressed her forehead to the center of his back. “Maybe,” she muttered.
“Hold on to me tight. And be careful your legs don’t touch the chrome. It’s hot and you might get burned. Fact is, you could probably wrap them around my waist—”
“Not going to happen, Evan,” she said, tugging on the helmet. “Drive slow.”
“Not going to happen, Lucy,” he replied, mimicking her tone.
When he took off with an enormous snarl of his engine, she hugged him as though her life depended on it. Lucy wished she could enjoy the ride, but she was freezing and still shaking with reaction. Still, it felt good to hold on to something solid, and clutching Evan’s wide chest was almost like hugging him. Closing her eyes, she squeezed him tighter. He had saved her, and she was pretty sure he didn’t even like her that much.
Evan pulled into the parking lot of his bar, The Blue Line. Last call had been almost an hour ago, so Lucy didn’t think she’d run into anyone she knew. His apartment was on the second floor. She had been there once, almost two years ago.
Oh God, don’t think about that night now. Or about kissing him again.
She winced at the memory, and she was glad he couldn’t see her face.
He parked the bike and said, “Okay, get off the same way you got on, but in reverse.”
“Don’t look at my stockings,” she warned.
“I won’t.”
He lied. He was completely ogling her legs. “I like the lace tops,” he growled in a husky voice. It unnerved her, and her leg brushed the tailpipe as she climbed off.
“Shit,” she hissed when she felt the quick flash of pain.
“You all right?” Evan uncoiled from the bike and stretched, the white T-shirt he wore sliding up to show a tanned and taut stomach. His black leather jacket crinkled as it settled on his wide shoulders. He looked like a hot fudge sin sundae with a cherry on top. Lucy licked her lips before realizing she had done so. He was wearing faded blue jeans with leather chaps. His worn leather boots were adorned with chains—and ankle holsters, she noted with alarm. After leaving the force, he had let his hair grow out and gotten more tattoos. It made him even more dangerous-looking.
“Yeah. I just burned my leg.”
“Let me see.”
She slapped his hands as he went for her skirt. Evan frowned at her, and she realized he wasn’t being fresh. “I’m fine,” she said.
“Let’s go upstairs. I want to make sure that doesn’t blister.”
Lucy wanted to grumble, but he was being so nice about everything that it made her feel churlish. They went in through the back of the bar and took a rickety set of stairs up to his apartment.
“What are you drinking?” he asked.
Her stomach protested at the thought of more alcohol. “Water. I’m a little dehydrated.”
She collapsed on the couch and winced in pain. That burn really hurt. Evan handed her a large glass of ice water and she drank half of it immediately. “Thanks,” she said as he left the room.
He came back moments later with some gauze and hydrogen peroxide.
“It’s not that bad,” she said, standing up.
Evan pushed her back down. “Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m not,” she grumbled.
“Let me see it,” he said, kneeling between her legs.
Hitching up her skirt, Lucy looked over his head. I will not be embarrassed.
His fingers were gentle as he spread her thighs apart.