“Let’s try for some realism instead.”
He said, “I think I can do that.”
I’d barely processed his words before he’d pulled me up from the chair and covered my mouth with his own. His scent overwhelmed me—citrus and leather and something else that made my mouth water. I was almost too shocked to react. I was acutely aware of the fact that he was kissing me in the middle of a bar, until he nipped at my bottom lip. Then I forgot about everything but him. My whole body shuddered, and my heart dropped toward my stomach like the force of gravity had doubled. My head was swimming, but I didn’t care. I opened my mouth, and immediately his tongue swept in, taking control. My hands clutched at his back, and in response, he pulled me closer. His kiss was slow and then fast, tender then punishing. We were pressed together so tightly that I could feel every plane of his body, but still I wanted to be closer. His hand slid up the back of my shirt—hot fingers pressed into my already over-heated flesh. A moan escaped my mouth at the intimate contact. Immediately, I regretted it, because the sound seemed to clear his head, and he pulled away.
I couldn’t stop my lips from following him, but he stayed out of reach of my kiss. Instead he groaned, ducked his head, and placed a hot kiss on my neck.
My brain was definitely dialed down. I was all body in that moment, and God, it felt good. I was only the sum of my nerve endings, which were going crazy. He exhaled heavily, and it scorched my skin. His voice was raspy when he spoke, “Sorry. Got carried away.”
Those were exactly the right words. Carried away. I had never been so caught up in another person before. I’d never been so… out of control. It at once excited and terrified me.
His face appeared before mine, and I tried to keep my expression neutral. His hand slid out of my shirt, and I shivered, my skin mourning the loss.
He took a step back. “Right. Might be time for a little more reason, little less passion.”
I laughed, but inside I was giving the middle finger to reason. It had ruled me long enough.
Chapter Three
“You’re kidding me, right?”
I stared at him, wondering if my control freak side could handle this.
His hand skimmed my jaw. “I promise I’ll go slow.”
I shook my head, and his hand dropped. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Just hold on to me. I promise… you’ll have fun.”
“Garrick…”
“Bliss, just trust me.”
I took a deep breath. I could do this. I just had to dial down my brain like Kelsey said.
“Okay, but hurry… before I change my mind.”
His face split in a smile, and he placed a quick kiss on my temple. “That a girl.”
Then he carefully fixed the helmet over my hair, threw a leg over his motorcycle, and offered me a hand. I pushed down my reservations, and slipped my hand into his. The seat was curved so that even though I tried to sit a few inches back, I slid until my body was pressed right up against his.
His hand settled on my knee, his fingers curving until they tickled at the sensitive area at the back.
“Hold on to me.”
I did as I was told, and nearly had an aneurism when I could feel the ridges of his abs through his shirt. Suddenly I was uber-conscious of the little pudge that rested just above my jeans. He was going to take one look at my body and know that I wasn’t good enough for him. Hell, he could probably feel that pudge against his back now, and was already regretting this. Then the hand around my knee gave a quick tug, and even though I didn’t think we could get any closer, we did.
I wasn’t just pressed against him. I was plastered.
My pelvis was so tight against him that a dizzy spell tore through me. And at that same moment, we took off. I dug my hands into his middle, and he jumped, the whole motorcycle swerving to the side.
I screamed. Well, more like shrieked. Right in his ear.
He straightened us out, and then slowed to a stop at the stop sign.
“All right?”
My face buried against his shoulder, I managed to squeak out, “Yeah.”
“Sorry, love, I’m just a wee bit ticklish is all.”
“Oh.” I loosened the fingers that were practically gouging into his sides. Thank God he couldn’t see my face right now. Red was not a good look on me.
He took my hands, and pulled so that my forearms were across his middle, and my arms were wrapped completely around him.
“That’s better. Let’s give it another go.”
This time when he took off, I didn’t scream. He gained speed slowly, and I kept my cheek flat against his back with my eyes closed.
Shakespeare was stuck in my head from our earlier conversation, so I recited everything I knew to keep my mind busy. I started with Hamlet’s soliloquy. Then moved on to the St. Crispin’s Day Speech from Henry V. I was finishing up Macbeth’s Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow monologue when Garrick interrupted.
“You really do love the Bard.”
Mortification was becoming my default emotion. Guess I wasn’t reciting those in my head like I thought I was.
“Oh, I, um, just memorize really easily.”
My cheek still against his back, I tried to calm my sprinting heart. Now that the motorcycle wasn’t moving, my brain was free to fear that other thing that I had been actively not thinking about.
Sex.
I was going to have sex.
With a boy.
A hot boy.
A hot BRITISH boy.
Or maybe I was going to throw up.
What if I threw up on the hot British boy?
What if I threw up on the hot British boy DURING SEX?
“Bliss?”
I jerked back, horrified and wondering if I accidentally spoke aloud again.
“Yes?”
“We can get off the bike anytime.”
“Oh.” I pulled my arms back so quickly that I nearly lost my balance and fell off the bike. Luckily, with only a minor squeak, I managed to stabilize myself, and slowly slide off the bike.
Then my calf grazed a pipe on the side of the bike, and I was screaming again.
It was hot. So FREAKING hot. And now my skin was stinging.
“Bliss?”
I had limped several feet away from the bike by the time Garrick caught up to me. Despite my clenched fists, and the way I was biting down on my lip to hold in the pain, my eyes were tearing up.
His hands cupped my face first, and then he glanced down at my leg where a red welt was shining about an inch below the bottom of my capris.
“Oh bugger.”
I kept my lips clamped shut, uncertain if I could open my mouth without crying. Garrick slipped an arm around my waist, and I threw one over his shoulder.
“Come on, love. Let’s hope that locksmith has already arrived.”
For the first time, I looked around and realized where we were.
We were in my apartment complex.
We lived in the same apartment complex!
I warred over whether I should say something as he steered me toward his apartment. I almost mentioned it when we walked past my own car, but then I reminded myself that this was supposed to be a one-night thing. He was one building over from me. Thank God. What if he had lived right beside me, and I had to see him every day after the no doubt terrible sex I was about to try to have with him?
We got to his door.
No locksmith.
The skin on my calf felt hot, like I was standing right next to an open flame.
He shot me a worried look, and then pulled out his phone.
He hit the call button twice, redialing the last number he called.
He stepped away from me to talk, and I leaned heavily against the wall beside his door. Clearly, I was not meant to have sex. This was God telling me that I was meant to be a nun. Get thee to a nunnery, and all that crap.