She laughed. “At least you own up to your lies.”
“Ach. White lies meant to amuse you, my lovely.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “It did amuse me. You amuse me.”
“Somehow that last sounded a bit condescending, but I’ll take it. Might be all I get.”
“It might be.”
Duff insisted on paying the check, and she had a childish urge to run to the ladies’ room and call Kitty for advice. But she was a big girl, damn it, and she could handle this—and him—on her own. Couldn’t she?
“Ready to go?” Duff asked.
Maybe she’d get away without finishing the conversation tonight after all. She could use some time to think about it, to figure things out.
“Um, sure.”
When she stood he slipped a hand around her waist as they walked outside—a single hand that spanned her entire lower back and the curve at her side. Amazing, the size of his hands. Strong. Powerful. She could only imagine what he could do with them.
Stop it.
She focused on getting into her helmet and onto the back of his vintage bike, which was really quite beautiful, so sleek and shining black, with pewter pinstriping detail. Even the pipes were black, which made the big bike look even more badass. Perfect for him. He started the engine and she held on as he raced through the streets. The thrill of riding on the back of a Harley was something she’d always loved. Even better with his big body to hang on to. She’d never touched a man of his size—had possibly never seen a man of his size, not even her friend Rosie’s Dom, Finn, a hulking blond Australian. But she had to admit she liked Duff’s size—she loved it. There was a natural command in a guy this big, especially in one with his utter confidence.
She liked that he was confident enough to make a little fun of himself—she couldn’t bear a man who took himself too seriously. And she liked that they had so much in common. They laughed a lot together. She thought she’d laughed more over dinner tonight than she had all week. Maybe she was the one who took herself too seriously.
He pulled up next to where her car was parked by his shop and they both got off the bike. Layla handed him her helmet. “It’s beautiful, Duff. A really fine piece of machinery. Thanks for taking me for a ride.”
He turned back from buckling the helmets to the bike, one dark brow raised. “I haven’t even begun.”
“More sexual innuendo?”
“Or an offer for another ride on my bike.” Pausing, he grinned, his dimples flashing, making his full mouth look even more lush and inviting. “Nah—it was totally sexual innuendo. But . . .” He paused once more, bit his lip and moved in closer. “I’m going to kiss you again—and I don’t plan to be sweet about it. Not one bit. I don’t think I can be. We’ll have to see where things go from there. Brace yourself.”
She’d barely had time to gasp before he pulled her roughly into his arms, and there was definitely nothing gentle this time. He pulled her into his body, bringing her up on her toes. His hand went into her hair and gripped as his mouth came down on hers in a crushing kiss. She could only sigh as his wet tongue opened her lips, slipped in and explored. And God, his mouth was sweet—sweeter than it had been before, for all the roughness, and some part of her understood that she loved this, loved being handled this way. Taken over. Not too many others could have done it—made her head spin and her body go soft and loose with a simple kiss. Maybe no one else in the world.
Only Duff . . .
Holding her closer, he pulled her tightly into his big body, one hand sliding down her spine, his fingers finding their way between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans and stroking her bare skin.
Desire was a hard, shivering ache in her body, making her legs tremble. As if every tiny spot on her skin where he touched her lit up with electricity. He lifted her off her toes, until her breasts, her hard nipples, were crushed against the massive wall of his chest. Deepening the kiss, he held her head, controlling it with a tight fistful of her hair.
She moaned into his mouth, her body letting go, and letting him.
Fucking. Helpless.
Helpless against his touch. Against the things he was making her feel. Against the way he kissed her—as if he were a drowning man who couldn’t drink her in enough. She had never been consumed this way by any man.
Finally he released her and set her on her feet. “That’ll do for now, I suppose.”
“I . . . What?” She pushed her hair from her face, trying to regain her balance.
“Think about what I’ve proposed. Let me know when you have an answer for me, lovely girl.” He ran a finger along her jawline, and it took everything she had not to close her eyes and melt into his touch. “Will you do that for me?”
He’d phrased it as a question, but his easy tone demanded an answer.
“Yes.”
He smiled, a twinkle in the depths of his hazel eyes, a half-smile on his face. “That’s the only word I ever hope to hear from you. Other than ‘please.’ But that’ll come soon enough, lovely. I can promise you that.”
She wasn’t even sure how to respond. What did one say to a man who had, in one evening, infuriated her, teased her, kissed her, confided in her, tempted her, then rocked her world so hard with one kiss she could barely believe it had actually happened? But it had. Her bruised lips were proof. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked down at the ground, pressing her lips together.
Fuck.
Don’t take too long to respond or he’ll know he has you.
Oh, but he already knew, didn’t he?
Damn it.
“So, I’ll be in touch,” she said.
That was so not brilliant.
“I do hope you will. Here, hand me your cell and I’ll put my number in.”
She did so, not even questioning the command.
“Good. But I need your consent to add your number to mine—I can dial myself from your phone. Yes?”
She nodded. “Yes. Sure.”
He handed her phone back to her. “Done. Until later, then. Be safe, lovely.”