Page 37 of Moto
“Oh, I can drive.” He hobbles over to me. “All night, baby,” he hisses in my ear.
I hide how much the mere thought of that turns me on.
“We’ll keep you garaged, so you’re well rested for all your adoringly slutty fans.”
“Hey now. Daisy Mae, a sweet grandmother from Ohio, would take offense to you stereotyping my fans that way.”
“I’ll write a personal apology,” I respond dryly.
Reese flashes me his signature cocky smile. “God, would I love to see you on a bike.”
“Dream about it.” I walk past him and open the fridge.
“Baby, I do.”
The thought of getting on a bike hits me right in the stomach for so many reasons. I hide behind the door, catching my breath, hoping Reese doesn’t notice the change in my demeanor. Unfortunately for me, he does.
“Kayla?” He pokes his head around the stainless steel door.
“I’m good. Just looking for the lettuce.” I grab the head out of the crisper drawer. “Here.” I slam it into his chest. “Start the salad.”
He looks down curiously at the ball of green then back up to me. “Okay.”
I mutely pull out a slab of steak and begin to marinate it while Reese chops the lettuce. I concentrate solely on what I’m doing, grinding down the simmering feelings and painful memories.
“Kayla. Kayla?” Reese waves his hand in front of my face.
“Huh?” I snap my head up.
“Where the hell did you go? I just had a five-minute conversation with myself.”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Must have been daydreaming.”
“About what? Me? My butt? Were you mesmerized by my Adonis-like physique?”
“Holy cow.” I gape at him. “Your ego needs its own area code. I was thinking about running.”
“For real?” He doesn’t buy my bull for a second. “No one thinks that in-depth about running.”
“I do. And I missed my last two workouts. You and Dev are eating up all my time.”
“There are worse things that could eat you out.”
“I didn’t say eat me out, Reese!”
“I’d love to eat you out.”
“Please stop talking.”
“I can’t. It’s compulsive.”
“This is why your fans send you underwear. You’re lewd.”
“And fucking horny.” He grabs his crotch. “I think this is a record.”
“Maybe we can submit an application toGuinness World Records.”
“Ya think?” he asks, dead serious.
