quote “date” with my fingers, but only just barely.
“I thought maybe we’d grab a drink somewhere,” he said.
The heat from his touch seared through the thin material of my blouse and my gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth. I’d bet my next paycheck that Ryker knew how to kiss, like really knew. Too bad I wouldn’t be finding out. I jerked my eyes back up to his.
“I don’t like the lying, Ryker,” I said flat out. “I’d rather you had just told me all of this without pretending to do the date thing. This”—I waved my hand to indicate me and him—“just makes me think that while you may be a good cop, you’re also kind of a dick.”
Ryker’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “It’s not often a woman calls me a dick after I buy her dinner,” he said.
“It’s not often a man uses me to get back at his arch nemesis,” I retorted. Turning away, I raised my hand, signaling a taxi coming down the street.
“Wait,” Ryker said, stepping in front of me. “That’s not why I asked you out.”
“Isn’t it?” The disbelief was evident in my tone.
“No, it’s not,” he said.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter because I don’t play these games.” The cab had pulled over and I stepped around Ryker, heading for it, but he snagged me around the waist. Spinning me around, I landed pressed hard against him from chest to knee, which wasn’t the best thing for my resolve to ditch him.
“Hold up,” he said, his blue eyes locking on mine. “You say you don’t like games, but I think you’re lying.”
Ryker was warm, his body hard against mine. His strength was apparent from how loosely he held me, but that I wasn’t getting away anytime soon. Not that I was trying too hard.
“Oh, I am, am I?” Not the cleverest response, but the most my brain could manage.
He placed his lips by my ear. “You want excitement and danger, sweetheart. You know it and I know it. Something different from the stiffs in suits you usually date. And I’m an excellent choice to make that happen.”
People passed us on the sidewalk, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the cab pull away. Ryker and I were locked in position, and despite the incredible arrogance of his words, I didn’t want to move. I felt the slightest brush of his lips against my skin and a shudder went through me. My hips were cradled between his thighs, my breasts pressed against the hard planes of muscle on his chest. His hands rested on my waist, their heat bleeding through to my skin.
My head was telling me Ryker was a jerk who thought way too highly of himself and presumed to know too much about me. Except…my pulse was racing and the part of me that had liked the motorcycle ride was also telling me I’d waited my whole life for a man I didn’t want to take home to meet my parents…and that it was this man.
“Get on the bike,” he ordered. “I’ll take you home.”
My cab was gone, so while it went against my sorely lacking judgment, I did as he said.
I endured the helmet yet again, then climbed on behind him. Traffic was light on the way to my apartment, and Ryker dropped his left hand from the handlebar to rest it on my bare thigh. His fingers hooked beneath my knee, brushing the sensitive skin behind the joint.
The touch sent a shiver through me and I reflexively gripped him tighter as I held on. His abdomen was hard beneath my palms, the rough denim of his jeans abrading the insides of my thighs. My palms were splayed flat against him. The hem of his shirt had ridden up and I felt the smallest sliver of skin against my fingers.
I closed my eyes and savored the sensations—the wind rushing past, the sound and heat of the bike’s engine, the scent of spring in the air mixed with the smell of the city, the feel of Ryker touching me and me touching him. Relaxing slightly, I rested my chest against his back. In response, his palm curved more firmly to fit my thigh, and an answering heat flashed in my veins.
The ride was over too soon, with Ryker’s hand going back to the handlebars to steer the bike into the parking lot of my building. I had the hated helmet off before he’d even parked,