I keep a hold on her as we exit the bar. She’s a little shaky, and she’s put back on her fuck-me high heels, so her balance is precarious—but it just means she leans a little bit more into me, so I can’t complain.

Back there, I didn’t lie. I’ll just drive her to her place and go. Unless she wants me to stay, but not sure I’d risk it.

I’m not taking her to my apartment. I don’t take girls there. Never. Not since that girl, Eva, freaked out and started accusing me right and left of being a pervert. She wasn’t even my proper girlfriend. We’d been getting it on for a couple of weeks when she decided my tastes were too heavy for her.

And she went straight to the police, instead of telling me not to talk to her again, which I’d have gladly done.

See, I’d trusted her. I don’t do that lightly anymore.

But this girl. Hailey. I help her into her coat, hang her purse on her shoulder, and pull on my leather jacket as we walk around the bar. Then I haul her back to my side and she’s a warm solid presence, her chestnut bob silky where I let my fingers sift through it. She smells of alcohol, but underneath it there’s a sweeter scent. Flowers. Honey.

Woman.

I help her wear my extra helmet, then climb on my motorbike and wait for her to settle behind me. “Hold on tight.” Her hands slide up my sides and stay there. I grab them, fold them over my stomach. “Tight, or you’ll fall off.”

She mumbles something to my back, wiggling on the saddle, and I smile.

Haven’t smiled in fucking ages.

I rev the engine, pull on my own helmet and gloves, and we’re off. The cold night air clears the rest of my buzz, and it intensifies all my senses.

Her arms wrapped around me. Her tits crushed to my back. The warmth of her legs pressed behind mine.

As we zip through the city, I ask for her address and we head that way. It’s not that far from where I live or the shop, and I file the street name and the number in a corner of my mind, not even sure what for.

I’m a delivery guy right now. I delivered her from that motherfucker Johnny who keeps forcing himself on girls too scared to report him, and I’m delivering her safe and sound to her place.

Job done.

I park my bike, kill the engine and hit the kickstand. She doesn’t move.

“Hailey?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” she says, muffled against my back. “Or my hands.”

Dammit, I should have given her my gloves. I remove her hands from my middle and slide off the machine, carefully lifting my leg over the saddle, not to hit her.

Then I drag her off, until she’s standing in the circle of my arms, her head tucked under my chin, my hands on the small of her back.

Why does she have to feel so fucking good in my arms? So right, like she belongs there. I don’t know her.

And I don’t trust people, not anymore.

My body is taking notice, too, my dick swelling against her soft curves. I’d been half-hard most of the ride, feeling her against my back, imagining what I’d do to her, with her—and now I’m rock hard and uncomfortable.

It’s to make sure she’s steady on her feet, I tell myself, keeping a hold on her as we make our way to the building and she unlocks the door. That’s it.

One last moment of this warm, breathless feeling I get when I hold her against me.

Then she turns her dark eyes on me and says, “Come up with me?”

No. That’s what I should say. She’s tipsy, and everyone saw me leave with her, and if she freaks out like Eva did I’ll have trouble convincing anyone it wasn’t true.

But I say yes. Yes.

I stand no chance of refusing her, even if I know it’s a fucking bad idea…

* * *

Her apartment is small but neat and cozy. She shrugs off her coat on the sofa and toes off her shoes. “Drink?”

“Sure thing. Thanks.” I take off my jacket, leave it on the sofa next to hers, and shove my hands in my pockets as I cross the living room to look out of the window at the street below.

“Brandy okay?”

I nod and she slides beside me, pushing the cool glass in my hand. “Thanks for punching out that creepy guy and bringing me home.”

Sipping at the brandy, I steal a look at her bright-eyed face. “No problem.”

“I’m new in town and I… I wanted to have a fun night out.”

“You have every right.”

“I wasn’t careful. That was a mistake.”

I sigh. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have invited me up.”

She laughs, a sweet sound. “Why? I’m not afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should be.”

She puts her glass on the window sill, and stares outside. “I think you’re the one afraid.”

I freeze, choke on my brandy and start to cough.

Fucking hell.

She laughs as I bend over, hacking, and takes the glass from my hand. Then she pats my back. “You okay?”

I nod and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “That went down the wrong way.”

Yep.

I take the glass from her hand and take another sip. It burns and soothes my raw throat.

She’s leaning back against the wall, her cheeks rosy, her mouth tilted in a smile, her tits heaving with each breath, barely contained in her black mini dress. She bends one leg at the knee, propping her bare foot on the wall, and my gaze trails down her long legs.

I gulp down the rest of the brandy.

It’s not helping.

“I should go.” But my feet don’t move from the spot. She smoothes a hand down her side and my eyes follow the movement, hypnotized. “You should tell me to go.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Fuck, I wanna kiss you.” I put my glass down and step closer, drawing in her scent.

“So kiss me.”

“Not a good idea. You heard Mr. Asshole back at the bar. I get rough with girls.”

“A bit of rough isn’t a bad thing.”

My control snaps, then, and I push her into the wall, my mouth crashing down on hers, my hands grabbing the back of her head, my fingers sinking in her silky hair.

Damn, she tastes as good as she smells, like strawberries and white chocolate and a hint of the brandy she’s been sipping. She gasps and I lick the inside of her mouth, wanting more. Wanting her to kiss me back.

Until she does, moaning and sliding her arms around me, pressing our bodies together, and it’s so fucking hot, it’s about to blow my mind.

Better than any girl I’ve kissed, or touched, or held.

Then again, it’s been so long since I’ve done that, since my hook-ups have turned into quick fucks in bathroom stalls at the back of bars, that it’s possible I don’t remember.

And she melts into me so sweetly, so perfectly, I want more. More than I’ve dared ask in a fucking good while, with the rumors hounding me, my friends not believing me.

My brother not believing me. Everyone whispering behind my back, avoiding me.

Could she be the one to make me trust again?