Free Her Knight in Black Leather by J. M. Stewart

she’d find out he really was every bit as dangerous as he appeared. And though she couldn’t explain how she knew, she’d bet every last cent she had that the only thing truly dangerous about Michael Brant were his discerning eyes.
    “That’s exactly what I needed from you. The anonymity. You were the only person in this town who didn’t seem to know who I was, who hadn’t already formed an opinion of me. Over the years, I’ve convinced myself I didn’t care what people thought, but I came back expecting judgment. There are people here who aren’t fond of me. And with you, for one night, I was just a man. I had no name, no obligations, no expectations.”
    He shifted closer, his body brushing her back, his heat seeping into her skin.
    “I needed you.” His breath against her sensitive skin made her shiver. “I was just … me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if you’d ever heard of me, what you thought of Michael Brant.”
    His hands slid onto her arms, his touch light and hesitant, as if he couldn’t resist but wanted to give her room to object. When she didn’t — couldn’t — those hands skimmed along her forearms, over the backs of her wrists, awakening every nerve ending along the way and setting the tiny hairs to standing on end.
    His hands slid farther still, over the tops of hers, enveloping them. Warm skin on warm skin, a simple point of contact, and every cell in her body shuddered with the relief of it, the sheer pleasure. She drew in a soft, ragged breath, knew she owed him the truth in return, but the words refused to leave her mouth. She didn’t want to ruin what the night had been.
    Instead, she told him a version of the truth. “I’ve heard of your family. I know you’re heir to a fortune. Your father owns luxury hotels. My father owns a bookshop in town. We struggle to make ends meet most months. Truth is, last night was a fluke. You and I don’t run in the same circles.”
    She drew a deep breath, forced herself to turn and face him, and laid a hand against his chest. “But none of that really matters, because I need this to stay at one night, Michael.”
    “Me, too.” He stroked his hands down her arms. “Let me at least make you some breakfast before I take you home.”
    She offered him a soft smile and nodded. “I’d like that.”
    • • •
    An odd melancholy filled Cat’s chest when they pulled into the last available spot in front of her apartment building an hour and a half later. Mother Nature had provided a gorgeous morning — a clear blue sky, birds chirping and chattering, and the oppressive heat had yet to set in.
    Wrapped in Michael’s jacket, Cat clung to his back, still reeling with the exhilaration of riding on his bike.
    “The perfect end to a perfect night.” The words left her mouth on a blissful sigh as Michael cut the engine.
    He made a sound of agreement at the back of his throat, but as he pulled the key from the ignition, the last shred of her high spirits evaporated. After pulling off the helmet, she turned her head and rested her cheek against his right shoulder. He took the helmet and hung it on the handlebars. Neither made a move to get off the bike and neither spoke.
    The seconds ticked by as she struggled with what to say. His body tensed against hers and butterflies danced in her stomach. She’d spent the entire night exploring every inch of this man, but she hadn’t the foggiest idea what to say now.
Thanks for a great time, have a nice life?
    With a long sigh, she pulled away and slid off the bike. She lowered her gaze and straightened her skirt. It gave her hands something to do at least.
    “I’m sorry to bring you home so early.” Michael turned a rebellious grin in her direction. “My family actually expected me yesterday, and my father doesn’t like it when I’m late.”
    She couldn’t help but smile in return. The look in his eyes told her he didn’t care if he was on time or not.
    He slid off his bike, slipped his hands