Harley Davidson had huge stores. She’d assumed it would be mostly motorcycles for sale, but there were a ton of clothes to try on.

Holding up a ripped-up shirt, she asked, “Where is the rest of this? It’s missing half the material.”

“Just try it on and then you can complain all you want,” Ramsey said as he pulled three more shirts off a rack, all in her size.

“Why would I pay full price for half the shirt?” she asked as he ushered her toward a dressing room. “And why are all the clothes you picked out black? That’s my least favorite color.”

There was a growl behind her, and then the rattle of a hanger before he clapped a hot pink V-neck Harley shirt with the logo across the front in black glitter onto her pile.

“Well, the festive color is an improvement.”

“Start with these. I’m going to find more,” Ramsey said.

“Okay,” she said. But then as he turned back at the door of the dressing room, she called out, “Wait! Do you want me to do a fashion show?”

“A fashion what?” he asked, looking nonplussed.

“You know…do you want me to show you the clothes?”

“Yeah. Fine. Fine, show me the clothes.”

“And also, I’m still hungry.”

Ramsey’s face lit up, and he nodded. “I’m on it. Try those on.” He walked away and Vina tucked her chin to her chest and stared. Whoo, that boy was fine from behind, too. Lick. He probably squatted a lot of weights. His open-sleeve tank clung to him just right to emphasize his V-shape.

Suddenly, Ramsey turned around. Vina jerked and looked away quick.

“Busted,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said and tried to shut the door in a rush behind her. Only the clothes got stuck in the door, and it bounced back open. She muttered, “holy balls,” before she got the door shut again. Was that Ramsey laughing? Whatever. At least he couldn’t see her cheeks turn the color of the neon shirt she held clutched to her bosom.

She pulled on a pair of skin-tight bejeweled jeans that had rips at the knees and barely scraped over her curvy thighs, but huh… She twisted left and right in the mirror. They actually fit when she got them in place. Nice and stretchy. The waist was snug, but her booty cheeks did look round and lifted in these. And the sparkles on the tooshie sure were nice. Good length to put over a pair of red pumps. A shoe box came sailing over the dressing room door and hit her in the arm. “Ow,” she muttered, rubbing her elbow and staring at the clumpy black boots that had fallen out of the box.

This was the worst date ever.

Growling internally, she pulled on the boots, settled the bootcut hem of the jeans over them, and then pulled on the pink, super-fitted shirt and… Oh my gosh. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her mom would fall on her knees asking God why he let the devil have her daughter if she saw her in this get-up.

She should take it off right this instant.

But…her boobs looked awesome in the shirt. And the V-neck came down just low enough to show the crack between her teats. She did resemble an hourglass figure in this outfit. Her legs looked longer thanks to the thick-soled riding boots, and the sparkles on her booty glistened attractively in the fluorescent lighting. Like a fish lure. Heeeere, Ramsey Ramsey Ramseeeeey.

The door opened, and in walked her fix. She jumped and yelped then yanked her ripped pink pants from the floor and clutched them to her chest.

Ramsey shut the door behind him and started hanging up about three thousand more items of clothing.

Without turning, he reached over, yanked her pants away from her, and threw them on the ground. Then he turned to her. His eyes had been dead, but when they lighted on her, a spark of something flashed through them. As he dragged his fiery gaze down her body and back up, slowly, she felt as if he was physically touching her. His eyes went to such a dark and hungry blue, her stomach did a flip-flop.

“Holy fuck. That outfit is a yes.”

“It is?”

He arched his blond brows as he nodded. “Oh, yeah. You look hot.”

“I do?” she said at an uncomfortable volume.

Ramsey laughed. “Yeah. You really do. Try the black jeans on next.”

“Okay.” This was kinda fun. Like trying on costumes. She stood there with a big, dumb grin on her face as she waited for him to exit the dressing room.

“We ain’t gettin’ any younger,” he assured her, crossing his arms.

“You’re going to stay in here while I change?” she whispered.

“Yep.”

“But…”

“But what? I’m a dude. I like tits. You have really nice ones. Take your shirt off.”

Vina scoffed. “Not likely, you perverted…perverted…prick biscuit.”

Ramsey narrowed his eyes. “I’m way worse than a perverted prick biscuit, Vina,” he murmured as he closed the distance between them. “But this is what you signed up for, right?” He gripped her waist and pushed her back against the mirror, pressing his body to hers. “You’re so wholesome and innocent, it makes me want to corrupt you.” Ramsey’s fierce gaze dipped to her lips in the moment right before he gripped the back of her neck and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss either. His lips were hard and unmoving, and his grasp on her neck was firm.

Vina wanted to simultaneously slap him and hold him tighter.

Whatever had happened in his life to make him like this, she pitied him. And she wanted to erase the rough kiss. Wanted to change the moment. Wanted it to hurt less.

So she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. She owned the dressing room kiss. Perhaps he’d done this to prove he was a monster, but that was okay. She already knew he was.

Angling her face, she sucked gently on his bottom lip. Ramsey went rigid in her arms but allowed it for a few seconds before he pulled back by an inch. The frown on his features was deep and troubled. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? You broke your own rule, Ram” she whispered. “No affection, remember?”

Ramsey’s nostrils flared as he angled his face away from hers, eyes locked on her own, a storm brewing in those dark blue eyes of his. There they stayed, sizing each other up, until he lifted her palm to his chest, rested it right over his heart, and let her feel it racing a mile a minute. And then he dropped her hand and left the dressing room. “I’ll be right outside the door. Do your…fashion show.”

He left her there, her back pressed against the mirror, her heartrate matching his, struggling to remember any kiss before this one.

Because something had happened. Some spark had ignited in her chest and confused and excited her. Her hands shook as she reached for the black ripped-up jeans.

That man—that wild, broken, monster of a man—had called to something inside of her. He’d woken something up. Her animal was paying attention now, and she gave a private smile because this wasn’t how she’d expected any of this to go.

This is what you signed up for, right?

No.

This was better.