“It’s all right,” she said with a toss of her hair. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Saw you leaving. Wondered where you were off to.”
So, he had been inside the club. Had he been checking her out since then? “Nowhere,” she said glumly. “At least not until I can get a cab.”
“It’s colder than a well-digger’s butt in January out here. Cabs are probably gonna be pretty scarce for a while,” he drawled.
“Where are you from?” she asked. “Your accent … southern?”
He shrugged. “From here and there. You know us Lone Wolves. Anyway, I should—”
“Give me a ride?” It was an impulse; one she couldn’t stop. Nor was she sorry for asking him.
A blond brow lifted up. “Excuse me?”
“A ride.”
The corners of his mouth curled up. “Are you sure you’re old enough for my kind of ride, princess?”
Oh God. She didn’t even realize … ignoring the heat rising in her cheeks, she straightened her spine. “On your bike,” she clarified. “And I’m twenty-one.”
“How did you know I have one?” he challenged.
She pointed her chin down at his shoes. “My grandfather has the same kind of boots. He rides a Softail.”
“Does he now?”
“So, are you just going to let me freeze here instead of offering me a ride home?” Oh God, what was she thinking, asking a total stranger for a ride? On his motorcycle? Did the bartender put more than vodka into that drink? Or was it that yummy masculine scent driving her wild and making her impulsive.
“You ain’t exactly dressed for riding,” he pointed out. As his gaze swept over her from head to toe, she felt like her body might spontaneously combust.
Oh dear.
Despite what most people thought of her, she wasn’t exactly … experienced. She’d made out with a couple of guys, maybe even had some of them feel her up, but the actual deed … well, that was a whole other story. No one had ever felt right for her. Sure, she’d had a couple of puppy-love boyfriends back in high school, but long term wasn’t her thing. “Collect and select,” she’d always joked with Maxine. Besides, she couldn’t even choose which shoes to match with her outfit, so how was she supposed to choose someone to sleep with for the first time?
But this man … one look from him, and she was ready to explode. For the first time ever, she realized that what she was feeling was real, hot-blooded lust.
“I don’t mind if you don’t,” she said, doing her best to disguise the tremor in her voice. “Of course, if you can’t manage one female riding with you, then I suppose I could walk home.”
His gaze pierced right into her, then the corners of his mouth turned up. “All right. Well, I can’t let a poor, defenseless lady go home by herself.” He motioned with his head to follow him, then started walking away from her. “Come on.”
Oh, her she-wolf was practically panting after him. Stop acting like some … hussy, she told it, though she followed the man anyway, teetering on her heels as she attempted to keep pace. Thank God he stopped about half a block away, right in front of a shiny black motorcycle parked on the street. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask her anything about bikes, because aside from Grandpa Noah’s Harley, she had no frickin’ clue about motorcycles.
He offered her a spare helmet after he put his on. “Here you go.”
“Wait.”
“What?” he asked impatiently.
“I don’t even know your name.”
His expression was pure exasperation, and he opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. “It’s Ransom.”
Ransom. It fit him so well, and she didn’t know why. “I’m Isabelle.”
He shoved the helmet into her hands. “Put it on, princess.”
As she strapped the helmet to her head and secured the chin strap, she watched as Ransom swung a long leg over the bike and straddled it between his thighs. Despite the chill in the air, a bead of sweat formed between her breasts.
“Well, are you comin’ or not?” he asked, head cocked to one side. “You’re not chickening out on me, are ya?”
“No.” She took two steps forward, trying to figure out how the hell she was going to get on that bike. Should have thought this through, Isabelle, she scolded herself. When he gave her an impatient glare, she shrugged and hiked her dress high up her thighs. She couldn’t help but smile smugly as his eyes widened and nostrils flared, before turning away and bending his head down to check on something on his handlebars. Ha. While she wasn’t experienced, she wasn’t blind. She knew when someone wanted her.
Thankfully, she was able to swing her leg over the back of the bike and climb up on top, then settle behind him. She crossed her arms over her chest and drummed her fingers impatiently, waiting for him to go.
“Do you wanna fall off or what?” he asked without looking behind.
“Huh?”
“Grab on, princess.”
“Grab on?”
“Yeah. To me.”
“Right.” Gingerly, she laid her palms on his broad back.
He snorted. “Not like that, princess.” His hands grabbed hers and then wound her arms around his waist and pulled her forward. “Like this.”
Electricity shot up her hand from where she touched him. Rather, where he was touching her because his hands were still wrapped over hers. His palms were so warm and rough, such a contrast to her own. He stiffened, then let go of her hands, relaxing as he gripped the handlebars. “Where do you live?”
Pressing her cheek against his back, she inhaled the scent from his well-worn leather jacket, which was mixed in with his own natural smell. “Have you been to New York before?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“How about I give you a tour first? Anywhere you’ve always wanted to see? The Empire State Building? Rockefeller Center? Times Square?”
“How about … the Brooklyn Bridge?”
Her nose wrinkled. “The Brooklyn Bridge?”
“Yeah. Heard
