My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187

“How chivalrous. Truly,” I snapped. “I’m not getting on. Call a car.”

Raphael turned the handlebars, the engine roaring with a sound that vibrated in my teeth. He looked at me, Listen closely, Princess. It’s either the bike, or I tie a rope around your waist and drag you behind me like a pull- toy. Your choice.”

“I hate men,” I muttered, slamming the helmet onto my head. “Seriously. Who gave your gender the right to speak? It was a mistake. A huge, evolutionary mistake.”

I marched over and hiked up the hem of my sunflower dress, swinging my leg over the back of the Ducati. The seat was hot, and the vibrations were already making my skin itch.

“Don’t get any ideas,” I warned, staring at his broad back tight in a t-shirt, “I’m only doing this because the alternative involves road rash.”

“Hold on,” he ordered.

Just to spite him, I gripped the metal rail behind the seat until my knuckles turned white, “I’d rather fly off the back and take my chances with the pavement than wrap my arms around you like some pathetic damsel.”

“Suit yourself,” Raphael said, a dark smirk audible in his voice.

He kicked the bike into gear and twisted the throttle. The Ducati surged forward with a violent jerk that nearly threw me off the back. My dignity lasted exactly half a second before the sheer force of the acceleration forced me to scream and lunge forward, my arms wrapping tightly around his waist just to stay on the damn bike.

“I still hate you!” I yelled over the wind, burying my face in his back as we tore down the driveway, leaving the pile of bodies and the beautiful, cursed mansion behind.

I scrambled off the back of the bike, fumbling with the helmet strap until I could rip the thing off. My hair exploded in every direction, but I didn’t care. I pointed a trembling finger at the faded yellow sign of the burger place.

“I’m starving!” I cried, my stomach letting out a roar to back me up. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I need a cheeseburger before I go home and act traumatized. I can’t do ‘fragile victim’ on an empty stomach, Raphael. I’ll get low blood sugar and pass out for real.”

Raphael stared at me, then at the sagging building, then back at me. “You have to be joking. We are ten minutes from the house. You can eat something that didn’t come out of a deep-fryer there.”

“Ten minutes is too long! My body is literally eating itself!” I started walking toward the entrance, my/sunflower dress fluttering in the breeze. “I’m going. You can either sit here and look moody on your bike or come in and watch me eat.”