Free Let's Misbehave by Kate Perry Page B

he’d expected. There was only one shot where you could see Imogen’s face, and the rest of it alluded to a bedroom scene. There was never anything direct, just silence punctuated by the occasional rustling or quiet sigh. The flash of curves.
    Merrick could see why it was so popular. It was the suggestion of sex and not overt. It left everything to the imagination.
    Certainly, his imagination had been stroked.
    Shadows shifted, and the iron gate swung open. Imogen closed it and walked toward him. At least he thought it was Imogen—that or Zorro, given the wide tilted hat and cape.
    She eyed his bike, her gaze devilish and bright. “How completely unexpected of you, Mr. MP.”
    “I didn’t want anyone to recognize me.” If he’d taken his Jaguar someone might have noted the hour and wondered—at least that was how he’d decided to justify it. He handed her a helmet. “It’s easier slipping away on the bike.”
    “More fun, too,” she added as she tossed her hat on top of a bush.
    “Is your hat going to be safe there?” he asked, turning the engine on.
    “Does it matter?” she asked as she strapped the helmet on. With a hand on his shoulder, she hiked her leg over. She squirmed against him, her feet on the pegs, winding her arms around his waist. Tight.
    So was he. He could feel the soft press of her body against his back, closer than it needed to be. Her thighs gripped his, warm and snug. He tried not to extrapolate that into anything more than it was. Impossible not to, but he tried.
    She snaked her hand under his jacket, under his shirt, to rest on his abdomen. “I’m ready,” she said near his ear.
    So was he, and if she moved her hand any lower she’d discover that for herself.
    This outing was a bad idea. Shaking his head, he kicked up the stand and took off.
    “Where are we going?” Imogen asked, raising her voice over the wind.
    “Somewhere we won’t be seen.”
    She chuckled, a husky sound that gripped him low, just like it had the first time at the charity ball. Her hand splayed low on his belly, a proprietary touch he was enjoying too much. “Normally I’d be offended that you wouldn’t want to be seen with me in public, but in this I encourage your caution,” she said close into his ear.
    He wanted to touch her.
    No—he wanted to ravage her. He wanted to eat her up like she was breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He wanted to tear her clothes off and leave bite marks on her skin, marking her as his. He wanted to see her sweaty and messy from him, limp on his bed and unable to move because he’d loved her so hard.
    He gripped the handles and drove. To Hyde Park, he decided. It was the obvious choice.
    It was where he used to bring girls, when he wanted the added thrill of being outside. He hadn’t been there in thirteen years, but it seemed the right scene for this crime.
    Arriving at Hyde Park, he eased the motorcycle onto a path, careful not to jar Imogen, on the lookout for any patrols. He zipped toward the Serpentine, to a spot he knew would be secluded.
    Behind him, Imogen held him closer. “Is it safe here?”
    “You know who comes here now? No one.” He eased the bike to a stop, behind a large tree where he usually hid it when he came here at night to think. He cut the engine. “Which is why it’s perfect for us.”
    Imogen slid from behind him, standing next to him as he kicked the stand and propped the bike up. She took the helmet off and shook her hair out.
    He watched her hand smooth the long tresses. He wanted that hand back on his tiger. “That was fabulous. Do you ride your motorcycle often?”
    Too often, but he couldn’t help himself. “No.”
    “What a shame.”
    He let his eyes roam over her the way he wanted his hands to, slow and thorough. She was in jeans and boots. Her top covered all the good parts of her, like wrapping paper on a present.
    He wanted to rip it off. He crossed his arms and leaned against the bike. “Nice cape.”
    She arched her brow.