In Too Deep Read Online Free PDF Page B

brim of her cap. The bike’s engine
rumbled in neutral and a peal of thunder cracked across the sky.
Piper’s lips opened but nothing came out. She took the helmet and
moved out of his line of sight. Pretty certain she muttered a word
ending with “hole” as she jammed the helmet on, West turned the
bike toward home and waited. He forced his muscles to relax when
she lightly touched his shoulder and swung on behind
him.
    The pretense didn’t last once she
settled into position, her wet denim-covered legs pressed against
the outside of his thighs, her upper body forced close to his as
the bulk of her backpack shifted her center of gravity forward. One
hand clutched her cap in a death grip, the other snaked around his
waist and settled lightly on his abs. His groin tightened and the
crotch of his uncomfortably damp jeans squeezed like the denim had
shrunk a size.
    “ Ready?” he gritted
out.
    The chin guard of the helmet
clipped his shoulder blades as she nodded. He toed the bike into
gear and released the clutch. The spread of her fingers across his
stomach nearly caused the lever to slip from his grasp. Stalling
like a kid with a learner’s permit was not the impression he wanted
to give.
    West steadied his hand and let the
clutch out slowly. Grit and small stones crunched under the tires
as they gathered speed and headed back toward town. Thankfully the
rain tapered off to a wet drizzle so he could see where he was
going.
    When he turned into his lane and
gunned it up the hill to his driveway, Piper’s second hand joined
the first as she clung to his torso, the firm mounds of her breasts
mashing against his back.
    He came to a complete stop in
front of his garage. Piper leaped off the back like the seat of her
pants was on fire. Fine by him. He hit the automatic roller door
button in his pocket and walked the bike inside. Donny, the mad
mutt, padded out of the shadows, panting and wet. By the time he’d
nudged the kickstand down, Piper had the helmet off and was staring
bug-eyed at his dog.
    “ Is that yours?” She let out a
girlish squeak when Donny whipped his body around, sending water
and slobber flying.
    “ Yep.”
    “ What kind of dog is he? A
miniature, balding Yeti?”
    He studied her expression. Donny
was a deal breaker, and if she he didn’t care for him, tough. She
could sleep in here. “Staffy boxer cross.”
    Donny strolled over to Piper and
delicately sniffed her knee. Maybe he resembled a miniature bald
Yeti, what with his missing ear, droopy jowls and mangy fur, but
West’s pal had manners. Piper slowly lowered her hand and let the
dog transfer his snuffling to her knuckles. “He looks like he’s
been through the wars.”
    “ He has.”
    “ What’s his name?” After receiving
Donny’s tongue swipe of approval, she stroked his head.
    “ Donny.”
    She crooked an eyebrow at him. “As
in Donnie Wahlberg from New Kids on the Block?”
    “ You’re kidding, right? Think I’d
name my dog after someone in a boy band? No—it’s short for Don
Juan.”
    “ Don Juan? You named this poor
ugly creature—and no offence buddy,” she crooned, scratching the
dog’s back while he shivered in delight, “—after Don Juan, the
greatest fictional lover of all time?”
    “ Donny doesn’t think he’s ugly and
the ladies appreciate him just fine.”
    “ I suppose they see past his
flaws.” Piper shot him a pointed glance and strolled further into
his garage as if she owned the place. “This is quite the man cave.”
She placed the helmet on an empty spot on his workbench.
    Tools and grease-smeared bike
parts covered almost every available surface and he squashed an
irrational urge to tell her to get the hell out of his garage. “You
expected something else? A craft nook complete with scrapbooking
supplies and knitting needles?”
    Her nostrils flared and her hands
returned to the straps of her backpack, gripping them until the
skin across her knuckles turned a bloodless white. “I