couldn’t have. Not these dark thoughts. Anything but these. Sam let out a long breath, leaned in and nudged Mark with her shoulder. “Hey, I’ve seen you go a lot faster than this just leaving the building. What, are you a chicken?”
“What?”
“Come on, I want to ride! Stop treating me like some delicate flower.”
“Don’t tempt me, Miss Leighton. It’s been a long night and I think I’d better take you home.”
Samara let out a sigh as he slowed down and hung a left off Clarkson. Damn, they were almost home.
“You’re disappointing me, Mr. Thorn.”
He leaned back toward her, speaking over his shoulder. “Now that disappoints me,” he said, his voice a low purr.
Smoothly, Thorn navigated the twist and turns of the streets while Samara tried her best to hold on and ignore the powerful extra friction the cobbled streets of lower Manhattan gave her. At a stop sign, a dark, oversized SUV pulled up beside them just before they were about to turn left and the driver, dark haired, light eyed, and thick necked, gave Samara the once over and back, clearly hung up on her legs. Sam could feel the change in Thorn as he went from Mr. Easy Rider to Man of Steel in about a nanosecond. She nudged him. “Hey, it’s cool, killer. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
Mark chuckled and seemed to relax, but still, he didn’t turn until the Rover pulled off and turned right, going the opposite way from them. Pulling into the building’s side garage, they headed smoothly past the attendant on duty. Samara blinked as her eyes adjusted to the overhead fluorescent lights. She tightened her hold with her hands and thighs, not knowing what else to do as Thorn eased the bike into a back corner spot next to a late model black Mustang.
He cut the engine and took off his helmet, turning toward her. “So.”
“So.”
He just stared.
“I could use a little help taking this off,” she said, gesturing to her helmet.
There was that smile, and once again something in the back of her mind nudged at her. How was it that someone who seemed so tough could smile so easily? He went to ease off the bike, but her legs were still tight around him and she had to reluctantly loosen her hold. There she was, suddenly open and way too exposed. She pushed down on her skirt as he reached out and took her hand gently in his. Her legs were shaky and loose like overcooked spaghetti and she had to fight not to reach out and grab his shoulders. In the end the shoulders won. She couldn’t stand on her own, and his arm snaked around her waist, steadying her.
The tension in the air was thick and palpable.
Sam licked her lips then knocked at her head breaking the spell. “Um, a little help please, Mr. Thorn.”
Thorn nodded. This time the smile was dropped. He was now an emotionless mask and just big hands and long fingers coming her way as he helped her with the strap at her chin.
Samara looked down, her stomach doing a flip as she felt the vulnerable exposure of the helmet being removed. On instinct she smoothed her hair down. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You think you can walk?”
“Of course I can.”
It seemed her pithy answer brought his emotion back because a little smirk quirked the corner of his mouth. “Okay, Miss Independent, let’s go.”
Sam took a few steps, fighting to stay upright, and she was happy to feel his solid hand come to the small of her back and steady her. They made it past the attendant to the back basement freight elevator.
Feeling more herself, Sam pulled away from Mark, not fully at ease with him taking up all the space. But it didn’t escape her notice that he seemed pretty comfortable and at ease, pressing their floor and leaning back on the railing. It was as if they were an easygoing couple on their way home after an evening out. The thought had her stomach fluttering and thoughts of swirling butterflies fighting for space filling her mind. She grimaced.
Mark looked up from his boots
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