Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Right up against me,” he says. “Hands nice and tight around my waist.”
“Okay.”
He starts the engine, and smooth as can be, the motorcycle comes to life beneath me. It’s a heck of a vibration. I say this as someone who’s made it a mission to test an array of such things. As is good and right.
“Nice and tight,” he repeats, drawing my hands around him. I remind myself he is not in fact talking dirty to me. Just issuing safety instructions. Only this doesn’t feel safe. Not for me and my messy emotions.
I press my front to his back and cling to his waist. It isn’t fair how deep and rough his voice is. Same goes for his hot accent. Add the giant vibrator I am currently sitting on top of, and I never stood a chance.
“Lilah,” he says. “Who’s that?”
“Huh?” I look up.
And standing there on the sidewalk staring at us is Josh holding a single red rose. Cheating on someone and then abusing them via text seems more of a whole bouquet kind of situation. Though he always was cheap. He stares at us, his mouth open and brows high. You would think kicking someone out and blocking them would send a message. I know he read the articles about me and the almost-prince, but seeing me with another man has him stunned. Which is ridiculous.
“It’s my ex,” I say. “Josh.”
Alistair’s body tenses. “The one who cheated on you? Do you want to talk to him?”
“No.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“And say what, exactly?”
He grunts. “Actually, I was just going to punch him in the face. I don’t suppose you’d be okay with that?”
“Hmm. That’s another no.”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, then.”
He revs the engine, and we take off down the street, leaving my sordid past behind. Which is exactly where it belongs.
We ride a circuit—Laurel Canyon, Mulholland Drive, and Cahuenga Boulevard—with great views of LA and the Valley. My butt goes numb about halfway, but I could happily cling to Alistair all day. What was fun in the convertible is even better on the back of a bike. The rush of the wind and the feeling of freedom as you watch the world go by. It’s little wonder people get addicted. This absolutely qualifies as a daring exercise, racing through the Hollywood Hills with a royal rebel.
We don’t stop or speak—we just ride.
When we’re done in the hills, he doesn’t head back to my place. He takes us west through town toward The Flats at the base of Beverly Hills. We pull up at a large gray metal gate and wait for it to slide open. Tall walls of the same color surround the property with trees reaching high above. A gravel driveway deposits us in a courtyard, surrounded by a tall stone building, which is also gray. It stands two stories high, and there are no windows on the street side. Just the large glass front doors and an abundance of wisteria vines.
If a modern-day fairy-tale prince turned grumpy beast were looking to relocate, this would be the place. No questions asked.
He turns off the engine and takes off his helmet. The sudden quiet seems to match this mansion looming over me. It’s a mood.
“Quite a fortress,” I say in a small voice. “Where are we?”
“My home.”
“Okay.”
“Why are we whispering?”
“I have no idea.”
He holds out a hand to help me dismount. Gravel crunches beneath my black ankle boots, breaking the silence. Then an insect chirps and a bird sings. Soon this is followed by the distant hum of traffic. We are, after all, still in the city.
“What did you think of the ride?” he asks, climbing off the bike.
“I loved it.” I grin. “Though I think I swallowed a bug.”
“Extra protein. Good work.”
“Thanks.”
“Come inside,” he says, nodding to the large glass door surrounded by a cool aged steel frame.
“You’re inviting me into your sanctuary?”
“You don’t want us being seen together by the press. Eating here seemed like a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea.”
He flashes me a smile. There and gone in an instant. One day he’s going to smile for long enough to get used to the feel of the thing. What a day that will be. Showing me his home seems to suggest a new level of trust between us, which is nice. He unlocks the front door and disables the security system of the huge and silent house. It’s an interesting mix of industrial and luxe, with gray concrete walls and dark wood floors. The only sound is the echo of our footsteps.
“Can I take your jacket?” he asks.
“Thanks.”
He doesn’t hesitate. I undo the zipper and his hands are there, reaching around from behind me. The backs of his fingers graze against the thin material of my tee, sending a shiver through me. Everything low in me clenches. This is ridiculous, what with all the time spent on the bike pressed up against him. I wouldn’t blame his new lady friend if she hated me. I get so messy around this man. He makes every moment feel momentous. It sure puts my average attraction and affection for Josh in its place. Which would be the trash. No one should settle when it comes to love or lust.