SWEETHEART | 18+

Chapter Three

I'm officially off work, and I'm rushing because it is already six. My thoughts about the date have been plaguing me all day, and I couldn't wait. Red. I need to wear red. Why? Because he told me to, and I'm a good obedient girl to guys like him.

I grab my helmet from the staff lounge, and I run outside towards my bike.

I may have forgotten to mention something about myself, and that is that Marcus isn't the only biker around here. I run the streets at night. The library job is only an extra income. So, as a street racer, Marcus naturally attracted me.

I'm a sucker for bikers.

So here I am, racing home, definitely topping the speed limit. Or going over it, who cares? I get back to my apartment in a record seven minutes, although it normally takes me twelve. I unlock my door, run inside, and pet my cat— his name is Narcissus. I'm rummaging through my drawers, throwing clothes around, and making my room a mess, when I finally find it.

I have not worn this dress since— who knows? 2019?

It's a bodycon, bright red silk dress with spaghetti straps and a small split hem. Maybe a little too much, but I was here to impress. To overpower, to shock. So I throw on a lacy black thong as well, no bra. For the shock factor, of course. Nothing else.

I slip it on, find some strappy black heels, and do my makeup. Small eyeliner wing, gold shimmer on my eyelids, and a red lip that matched beautifully with my dress. With a dash of mascara and grabbing my black clutch, I am ready. At six fifty-nine. I get a text from the number I had messaged earlier. Marcus.

I'm outside, sweetheart. Hope you're comfortable with motorcycles.

I wasn't about to tell him that I had one of my own, because that's when the questions start rolling in. So instead, I ignore my helmet, tell Narcissus goodbye, and run out the door like a giddy teenager.

And he's out on the street, in all his glory. He has his helmet pulled off, in his lap, and he's staring at me so intensely that I feel like I'm going to pass out. His hair is tousled like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. There's a wild grin playing on his face. His eyes practically twinkle.

I give him a shy wave, stepping next to the bike.

"You look gorgeous." He mutters, and my face turns a deep red. He coos. "Oh, did I fluster somebody?" I scoff, smiling. His voice is so pretty.

"No. Nuh-uh." I cross my arms, and his eyes soften. He hands me his helmet and pats the seat behind him. I climb on, pulling on the helmet and wrapping my arms around Marcus' waist. Oh my God, he has abs. I can fucking feel them beneath the black dress shirt he's wearing.

"I'm a little fast, hold on tight." I'm so glad he can't see how flushed I am. That's a double meaning, and he knows it.

We pull out of my apartment complex, and soon enough, he's speeding down streets and weaving around cars like nobody's business. He really is fast, but I doubt he'd beat me in a race.

Marcus pulls the bike into a busy parking lot and parks in a motorcycle spot, turning off his bike and hopping off. He holds out a hand for me and glances down at what I assume to be unintentional. His eyes widen, and he looks back up at me, sucking in a breath.

Oh my God, he saw the thong. There's the shock factor.

I pull off the helmet and hand it to him while biting my lip. He grabs it without looking, still staring at me. I'm avoiding eye contact. He lets out a short whistle, which makes my hairs stand on end, and I finally look at him.

His eyes are dark and slightly hooded. Lustful. Ignoring it, I reach forward and muss up his hair. It had been blown back a bit from the wind on the bike. He watches me all the while. When I'm done, I cautiously grab his hand. Just soft enough.

And Jesus was his hand big. Mine were always on the smaller side, but I could barely hold them. I opt to wrap my hand around his pinky and look away.

This is embarrassing at the least.

He clears his throat, slashing the mood in half, and grins as if nothing happened. I give a small smile in return.

"You ready to go in, sweetheart?" Fuck, if says that pet name one more time, I will be in his bed. Honest.

"Yes, Mr. Adams, I am." I look into his eyes, and there goes that dark look again.