“I think I can handle it,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“OK,” Kelly sighs, “Just be careful, is all. You play it tough, but I know you’ve got a soft, squishy, breakable heart under that armor of yours. Just like the rest of us.”
She’s right, of course. For all my posturing, I’m still vulnerable. I’ll bruise if beaten, break if bent too far. But I have to stop letting the fear of getting hurt keep me from all the best things in life. I know too well how short life can be. And I don’t intend to waste another minute of my own.
I hear the elevator ding to a stop on our floor early the next afternoon. I’ve been pacing all around my suite, waiting for Declan’s return. I have to restrain myself from flying out the door the second I hear him head into his apartment. How can I have missed someone so much, after only knowing him for a few days?
“You’ve really got a hold on me, Tiberi,” I mutter, tapping my fingertips impatiently against the kitchen counter.
I’ve slipped into a pale yellow sundress today, and even dared to apply some of my fancy new makeup. I want Declan to see the fruits of his spending limit the second he walks in the door. My hair hangs in loose waves over my wing-like shoulder blades, and a pair of strappy white sandals completes the look. When I finally hear his knock at the door, my heart nearly bulldozes through my chest.
“Kassie?” he calls, in his rich, irresistible voice, “Are you decent?”
“Yep!” I reply, perching myself on the edge of a chic chaise lounge.
The front door swings open, and Declan steps over the threshold. His curls are windswept, and his face is just a tiny bit tanner than when he left. He wears his Dante’s Nine cut over a white tee, and rocks a pair of sinfully wet-fitted black jeans. He looks fortified, somehow. More alive than ever. Where has he been that’s had such an effect on him?
“Well, look at you!” he crows, crossing his arms appreciatively.
“I took your advice and did a little shopping,” I say, arching my back ever-so-slightly, “What do you think?”
“You look amazing,” he says, his voice husky.
“Thanks. So...do you,” I bumble, unsure of how to accept his praise.
“Yeah right,” he laughs, “I just climbed off my bike three seconds ago.”
“Well, it works for you,” I say, rising to my feet. I can feel his eyes on me as I cross to the kitchen, letting my hips sway just a bit more than they usually would. “Do you want anything?” I ask him, “Coffee? Tea?”
“Do I look like a tea drinker to you?” he chuckles. “What I mean is, no thanks. Besides, we’ve got to get a move on. The family’s waiting.”
“Oh, great!” I reply, smoothing down my pastel skirt, “I’m ready to go whenever you—what? What is it?”
Declan’s doubled over, laughing like mad. “No way...am I letting you meet my brothers...dressed like that,” he cackles.
I look down at my outfit, self-conscious. I was only trying to look nice for him, and now I feel like an idiot for it.
“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, coming towards me, “But pretty and polished is not exactly what these guys are used to.”
“What would you suggest, then?” I ask, planting a hand on my hip.
“Surprise me,” he grins, brushing a stray lock of hair out of my eyes.
My knees turn to rubber at this most subtle touch. I snap my fallen jaw back into place and march off to my bedroom. He wants to see what a little girl from Fairfield wears to a biker bar? Fine. Challenge accepted. I start digging through my new duds and set to work on my brand new image.
When I reemerge, my coy little act is dropped. What was I thinking, playing the wilting flower for this guy? That’s not who I am. Not who I want to be. This summer is all about finding out what I’m really made of. And that means pushing myself. No more playing it safe.
“Better?” I demand, planting my feet on the marble floor.
Declan swings his head toward me and freezes. His eyes grow wide as he takes in the sight of me in my full biker chick regalia. My chest swells with pride at his look. Maybe I am capable of taking him by storm after all.
A low-cut, navel grazing white tee barely restrains my full, firm breasts. My midnight black bra shows through the thin material, just enough to give a pretty good peek. I’ve wiggled into a pair of low-rise, tight as hell blue jeans, and my feet are clad in leather ankle boots. My hair hangs down, voluminous and wild, and my lips are finished with a rich ruby red. I let my brand new leather jacket hang over my shoulder by one finger and execute a little spin for Declan’s benefit.
“Jesus Christ,” he whistles, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Ms. Bennett?”
“Hell no. You’re my ride,” I shoot back with a smirk. “What do you think? Is this more of the look you were hoping for?”
“You are beyond anything I could have hoped for,” he says, crossing the room toward me. “That’s a fact.”
My nerves sizzle as he approaches. For all my tough talk, I still don’t know if I’m ready to take on a man like Declan. All that power could overwhelm me, if I’m not careful. How can I want something so badly, and fear it all at the same time? He comes to a stop just paces away from me, not bothering to hide his gaze as it rakes all along my body.
“You know how stunning you are, don’t you Kassie?” he asks me bluntly.
“Oh...I don’t know...” I murmur, averting my eyes. I feel sexy in these new, brazen clothes, but having someone say it out loud is another matter.
“Well, you are,” he goes on, taking me by the hand and gently tugging me toward him, “It’s a shame that you haven’t been told that every day of your life. But that ends now. You shouldn’t be ashamed of how gorgeous you are.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. But we can change that,” he says, his voice kind but firm. I stare back at him, utterly at a loss. What do you say to a thing like that? But thankfully, he’s more than happy to lead the way once more.
“Let’s get going,” he says, lacing his fingers through mine, “That hair of yours could use a little wind in it.
We tear down the strip on Declan’s Harley, slicing through the early evening air. My hands are wrapped firmly around those hard, rippling abs of his. I don’t even bother hiding how much I love the feel of him against me. Me against him. We draw eyes from passersby as we ride along. Is it Declan they’re staring at, or me? Maybe it’s the pair of us, complementary and balanced. Or maybe that’s just my own wishful thinking. We’re not a couple, after all. We’re...coworkers. Or something.