Her Knight in Black Leather (Crimson Romance)

by Stewart, J. M.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Thanks. I’m fond of her.”

  Cat had a slow, easy gait as she moved around the back of the bike, still trailing her fingers. His gaze riveted to the gentle sway of her hips, the way the light material of her skirt swirled around her delicate ankles. She walked with fluid grace, each step light and smooth and completely mesmerizing. He’d be quite satisfied to stand here and watch her pace the sidewalk.

  “So, how’s a guy like you get his hands on a bike like this, anyway?” Coming full circle, she rounded the rear fender and stepped up onto the curb, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Looks custom. Bikes likes these aren’t cheap.”

  Michael couldn’t stop his stupid grin. Cat had to be the only person in Crest Point who didn’t seem to have any idea who he was. A fact he found entirely too alluring. He craved anonymity, for someone to see him through new eyes without pre-conceived ideas. He hadn’t anticipated finding that in Crest Point. The last time he was here, people shunned him. People with broken hearts who still blamed him for a horrible tragedy. Hell, he still blamed himself.

  Cat just looked at him like a man. With her, he could be himself, disconnected from his family’s name and the past that haunted him. Even if it was only a few precious hours, he wanted to revel in the time he had with her.

  “You know this how?” He cocked a brow as he leaned around her to pluck his helmet from where it hung off the handlebars. His body brushed hers, her slender curves pressing lightly along his length from her chest down to her thighs.

  It was a closeness he knew she noticed as well, for her widened eyes searched his. Her breathing hitched, her chest rising and falling at an increasingly rapid pace. Twice her gaze dropped to his mouth, her tongue slipping out to wet her lower lip.

  “My mom dated a guy who owned a bike shop.” Her voice came out breathy and distracted as she peered at him.

  “The same one who crashed?” He straightened, forced himself to take a step back, before he startled them both by kissing her again. The first time had been a playful tease. She’d captured his attention, and he’d pressed his luck. He hadn’t expected her to respond, to kiss him back.

  She had built a yearning deep in his gut to taste her again. To feel her moan and lean into him, wrap her body around his. She reminded him too well how long it had been since he last held a woman. God, how he missed the feel of soft, feminine curves against him while he slept. And here she was, staring up at him with a soft but no less potent desire in her eyes.

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, for a moment looking every bit as leveled by the attraction as he felt. She cleared her throat and nodded, a stunning mixture of amusement and challenge sparking in her eyes. “So?”

  “Would you believe me if I said I built it?” Accepting the challenge and tossing it back at her, he cocked a brow as he held the bike helmet out to her.

  As she took the helmet, her gaze slid over him, to his feet and back up. “I could see that. You don’t have the hands of a mechanic, though. Too soft. I expected you to tell me you worked in some corporate office somewhere and that riding was a pastime.”

  A laugh escaped him at the irony of her statement. His father wished he worked in a corporate office, had expected both his sons to come into the family business. That Michael not only hadn’t but worked with his hands like some unskilled laborer irked the old man to no end.

  “Riding’s not a pastime. It’s a lifestyle.” He winked and stuffed his free hand into his pocket, fishing out his keys. “You could say I splurged. I built it ten years ago. Don’t need much, frankly. Give me a roof over my head and a bed to sleep on and I’m happy. The rest of the money I earned went into this bike.”

  Okay, so that was mostly the truth. He owned a condo in L.A., furnished only with what he needed to live on, and everything he had, he’d earned himself. He left this town ten years ago with nothing more than the jacket on his back and the bike beneath him, determined to prove to his father — the town and himself — he wasn’t the screw-up everybody assumed him to be. He purposely left out the wealth he’d amassed in the last ten years. He’d built his company from the ground up and had done rather well for himself.

  None of which he wanted her to know. At least not now, not tonight. Tonight he simply wanted to be himself.

  “A simple man.” Her expression softened; warmth radiated from her eyes.

  “Mm.” He slid around her and stepped up to the bike, mounting it and releasing the kickstand before looking over at her.

  She remained frozen on the sidewalk, the helmet tucked under one arm. Uncertainty flashed in the depths of her eyes. Her expression left him caught. It dragged up a protectiveness he hadn’t felt in years. He had an overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and soothe her fear. Yet while he knew her fear was likely aimed at his bike, it reminded him too much of the looks he garnered walking through town ten years ago. The expression lodged in his gut as being all kinds of wrong and made him more determined to wipe it from her eyes permanently. Earning her trust suddenly became very important.

  “I can take you home if you like. Or call you a cab. The choice is yours.”

  “Where are we going?”

  His house immediately popped into his mind. “I have a place out on the beach. It’s quiet and peaceful, but it’s dark and the place is private, so I’ll understand if you decide you’d rather go home.”

  She fingered the chinstrap on the helmet for a moment. “Should I be afraid of you?”

  His gut knotted. He didn’t want her to leave, didn’t want to take her home. He wanted to spend the night reveling in those beguiling eyes, but the choice had to be hers and hers alone. “No. I’m as harmless as they come. I don’t even kill spiders, and I hate the little buggers. You shouldn’t take my word for it, though. Women get hurt all the time in L.A. falling for lines like that.”

  She quirked a brow, amusement lighting her eyes. “A man who’s afraid of spiders?”

  He grinned. That she chose to focus on his fear of spiders spoke volumes.

  “Can’t stand ’em. They give me the creeps. With their million legs and furry little bodies.” In spite of himself, a shiver ran the length of his spine.

  Apparently she caught the reaction because her smile widened. “How do you get them outside without touching them?”

  “Trap ’em in a jar. Vacuum works in a pinch, too.” He winked.

  She laughed, the sound light, airy, and music to his ears. With a stubborn lift of her chin, she plunked the helmet on her head and fastened the chinstrap, those eyes flashing. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

  He twisted at the waist and patted the seat behind him. “Take a walk on the wild side with me.”

  She gripped handfuls of her skirt and Michael’s gaze glued to the movement. Inch by inch she hiked the soft, flowing material above her knees, revealing shapely calves and the bottom halves of taut thighs. Her skin was untouched by the sun, creamy and smooth. As she swung one gorgeous leg over the bike and sank onto the seat behind him, he tightened his grip on the handlebars to keep from reaching out and stroking her thigh.

  When her hands circled his waist, he swallowed hard. The thought of those sleek, bare thighs resting against his backside had his body aching and tensing in a most primal way.

  He shoved the key into the ignition, then glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Hold on tight and lean with me into the turns.”

  She nodded. The delicious feel of her warm body filled his back, and he was distinctly aware of her breasts pressed against him. The woman tempted him, like candy offered to a kid, and damned if he could resist, no matter how much he knew he ought to.

  Twenty minutes later, Michael pulled into the short, gravel driveway in front of the darkened two-story house. The place sat at the edge of town in a neighborhood consisting of maybe a dozen homes, all
lining a two-mile long stretch of beach. The Pacific Ocean rolled for miles beyond.

  As he cut the engine, Cat’s breathless voice purred in his ear. “That was incredible.”

  He didn’t need to see her face to know a grin went along with her enthusiastic tone. He shot a smile over his shoulder. It had been a quiet ride, with her simply clinging to his back. The night was warm, the sky clear, making for a beautiful trip. Reluctant to relinquish the feeling, he’d been tempted to take the back roads around the outskirts of town. Too bad the gravelly roads were filled with sharp curves. Combined with the fact her skirt left her skin unprotected, he hadn’t wanted to take the chance.

  “I forgot what a rush that is.” She released his waist, slid from the bike, and pulled off the helmet. His momentary disappointment evaporated as quickly as it came when she handed it to him, then tipped her head back and ran her slender fingers through her hair. The way he longed to.

  She turned then and all but skipped up the gravel driveway, a childlike gait that had him smiling, in spite of himself.

  He folded his arms across his chest and watched her for a moment. That look right there would make his entire stay in Crest Point worth every minute. He wanted to make her smile like that again — and often.

  She stopped halfway up the driveway, tipped her head back, and held her arms out, as if offering her thanks to the sky. “The roar of the engine in my ears, nothing but us and the road.”

  “I won’t say I told you so.” He hung the helmet off the handlebars.

  She brought her head up. The flirtatious sparkle in her eye made his heart skip a beat. A breath later, she turned away, slowly scanned their surroundings. “Is this your house?”

  He extracted the key and tucked it into his right pocket, then slid off the bike and strolled up behind her.

  “Yeah. I stay here while I’m in town. Come on. There’s a great view of the sky from the beach.” He jerked his head in the direction, a hundred yards or so in front of them, and began walking farther up the driveway. Cat fell in step beside him.

  “It’s a beautiful place.” Her voice held a hushed, awed tone as he led her past the house and out onto the lawn.

  He made a sound of agreement at the back of his throat and scanned the long, rectangular yard spread out before him. He loved this place for the view alone, but he’d bought it before all hell broke loose. Way back when he was cocky enough to think the world was his oyster.

  “That’s why I like it out here.” Shaking off the oppressive thoughts, he offered her a gentle smile. “I’m a quiet, peaceful kind of guy.”

  “I sensed that about you.” An echoing smile eased across her face, warmth in her eyes.

  As they came to a stop where the grass tapered off and the sand began, silence enveloped them. He was all too aware of her beside him and way too aware of the fact they were now alone. The same awareness echoed in her eyes and the tension rose, fine and sweet, between them.

  “I’ll go get a blanket.”

  He touched her arm before heading around her and into the house. After retrieving a red plaid blanket from a closet, he rejoined her on the beach and spread it out on the sand.

  She smiled, and he was caught for a moment in those beguiling eyes. His body vibrated with the memory of hers pressed against him, the feel of her in his arms. The same emotion echoed back at him and the air between them charged. A nervous blush stole across her cheeks.

  She tilted her face to the sky, effectively breaking the spell. “You’re right. The view’s fantastic.”

  She gripped the edges of his jacket, ran the soft, worn leather between her fingers and shrugged out of it. She peeked over at him, desire and shyness in her eyes, then sank onto the blanket with all the ease and grace he’d come to expect from her, smoothing her skirt beneath her as she went. After setting his jacket to her left, she slipped off her shoes, then leaned back on her hands. “You don’t see a clear sky like this in Seattle much. It’s usually covered with clouds.”

  “So does that mean you didn’t grow up in Crest Point?” He sank to the sand beside her, entirely too aware of her. Of every move she made. Every breath and sigh. It all made him more and more aware of how beautiful she was, with her hair blowing back off her neck in the gentle breeze, her skin glowing in the moonlight. It had been a long time since a woman mesmerized him, but there was something about Cat.

  “Well, technically, I was born here. We left when I was twelve. Mom and I moved back the end of my junior year in high school. About nine years ago.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, burying her toes into the sand. The bliss crossing her shadowed features captured him.

  “So that would make you, what, twenty-five?” The breeze caught the ends of her hair, blowing out behind her, and Michael had the sudden yearning to feel it brush his chest.

  “Mm-hmm.” Her amused smile melted from her face as she turned her head and caught him watching her. She stilled, as if caught by the same thing that held him bound. A flare of desire sparked between them, hot and tangible.

  He was entirely too aware of how desperately he yearned to taste her mouth again. Aware that the neighbors were few and far between out here, and most of them had gone to bed hours ago. His mind taunted him with the heady knowledge that under the cover of darkness, nobody could see them. He could make love to her in the cool sand, with nothing but the sky above them and her warm skin beneath him. He’d bet money her skin was as smooth as spun silk.

  A flush slid across her cheeks, soft and alluring, and she lowered her gaze to her lap, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes. The look soft. Alluring. Tempting. “How old are you?”

  “Old enough to know better, but still young enough to do it again.” He leaned back on his hands and offered her a playful wink.

  The sweet tension of the moment broke as she let out a laugh — a quiet, husky sound that washed over him like a heated caress and made his chest swell in triumph. Hearing it made him smile in spite of himself. God, how he loved that sound. There was something so honest about it.

  “Now how’d I guess you’d say something like that?” Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight, flirtatious but distinctly playful as she tossed his tease back at him.

  He couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. “I’m thirty.”

  “An older man.” Her eyes narrowed and she sat silent for a moment, studying him. “Somehow that only adds to the whole dark and dangerous mystique you’ve got going on.”

  The thoughtful tone of her voice told him the statement was an innocent one, merely an observation. More than that, however, the comment made him wonder what she saw when she looked at him. Most people only saw his family’s name and money.

  “Dark and dangerous?” He arched a brow.

  She nodded and waved a finger at him, gesturing from his head to his black boots.

  “The dark colors, the leather jacket, the bike.” Knowledge glimmered in the depths of her eyes, as if she spoke from experience. She leaned toward him, supporting herself on one hand. “Are you a thrill-seeker, Michael? Or just a drifter?”

  Her closeness had her breaths blowing across his mouth in short bursts of warm, enticing air. The way his name rolled off her tongue got him — soft and sultry in an innocent kind of way but torturous all the same. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear her moan his name in the heat of the moment.

  He wasn’t the only one who noticed the closeness, for she stilled beside him. Her chest rose and fell at an increased pace. An alluring mix of desire and shyness filled her gaze as it flicked to his mouth. The air between them charged, a pull so intense it was all he could do to stop himself from leaning in.

  “Neither. I’m just me.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, caressed over the full bottom lip, the need to taste her again pounding through him. “I don’t get off on adrenaline rushes.”


  “What do you get off on then?” Her voice drifted to him on the breeze, quiet and husky.

  He stifled a groan but couldn’t resist the urge to touch her, so he reached out, stroking his fingers over her chin. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, delighting in the soft hitch in her breathing and the way her mouth fell open. “How it is you’ve already figured me out? Am I that transparent?”

  “No.” She shook her head slightly, her tone every bit as distracted as he felt. “My mother was a drifter. We moved around a lot when I was growing up.”

  Her soft confession stunned him, and he dropped his hand but couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Despite knowing he’d never seen her before — and he was pretty sure he knew almost everyone in town — he would’ve guessed she spent her entire life here. She had the small town look about her, like she belonged here, and that thought only made him that much more curious.

  “You’re a surprise at every turn. You’d think growing up that way would’ve warned you against guys like me.”

  “Guys like you?”

  His heart pounded at what he knew he had to tell her next. He didn’t know her from Eve, but he had no desire to be the one to put more disappointment in her beautiful eyes.

  “Yeah. I left town ten years ago, determined never to come back, and I don’t plan on staying long.”

  Her brows rose in disbelief, and she pulled back. “You’re from Crest Point?”

  “Born and raised.” He flashed a half-smile. “Why is that surprising?”

  Her eyes slid slowly over his face then stopped on his mouth. Oh, he knew that’s what she stared at. He felt it through every pore in his body. When she caught him noticing, her gaze skittered away and she turned back to the water. “I don’t know. You seem like a drifter. Like you’re breezing through this town on your way to somewhere bigger.”