"Oh." His voice is soft. There's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I'll take you home."
"You have to promise to drop this subject."
"It's dropped." He leads me around the corner. We walk in silence for a few blocks then Miles stops.
In front of a motorcycle.
He pulls two helmets from a compartment and hands one to me. Then he slings a motorcycle jacket around my shoulders. "This might make your thighs a little sore."
I climb on after him and hold on for dear life.
* * *
My knuckles are white. My wrists are numb. Every muscle in my body is tense from the vice grip I have around Miles's waist.
The man drives like a Goddamn maniac.
After we park in my garage, I pull the helmet off my head and shove it into his hands. As usual, he's effortlessly cool and I'm trembling. Only known the guy for weeks, and we already have a pattern that gives him all the cards and leaves me with none.
He locks his bike, looking me over like he's trying to read my mind. He shrugs his leather jacket off his shoulders. "You'll want one before you know it."
"Fat chance." I dig my purse out of the bike's tiny trunk. "You've saved the pathetic damsel in distress. You don't have to stay." I turn and step towards the door.
"Meg."
"What?"
"You're wearing my jacket."
Ugh. I am wearing his extra jacket—it's early fall in Los Angeles, but the air is cold when it's whizzing by at eighty miles per hour.
I return the garment without another word.
My stomach is in knots. I want him in my room, in my bed, but not if he's going to treat me like the pathetic girl who can't handle her shit.
Those people… Their eyes were empty. I can't get it out of my head. I need it out of my head. I need to think about something else now.
Miles can deliver on that. Does anything else really matter?
I motion for him to follow and I make my way through the lobby. His calm steps remind me that he is still effortless. I am still clumsy and out of my comfort zone.
I press the button for the elevator. My hands are anything but steady. I press them into my thighs and take deep breaths.
Miles leans closer. His voice is steady, reassuring. "I hope the bike didn't wear out your thighs."
A blush threatens to form on my cheeks. I bite my lip. I can be cool too. I can be calm too. "It didn't."
"Good."
The elevator doors open, and we step inside. Miles hits the button for my floor. He says nothing.
Ding. We're at my floor. Miles moves steadily, his hand pressed gently against my lower back. His touch rekindles the fire inside me. I don't want to banter or fight. I don't want to talk at all.
He needs to be naked in my bed. Now.
Deep breath. I can do this. I unlock my door and slide it open.
"Is that an invitation?" He drags his fingertips over my back. "I'd really hate to leave without making you come."