"Need a ride?"
Melanie looked at the man for a few seconds before shaking her head decisively. Like hell, she would get on top of that machine. Or behind that man.
"We are going different ways," she told him coldly.
His mouth kicked up at that," And how do you know which way I am going Melon?"
She opened her mouth but found no answer. That was indeed correct. She had no idea what Adam did with his days and where he was going. He seemed to know that as well as his gaze lingered, dark and unreadable, before he spoke again, his voice smooth. He tapped his fingers idly against the handlebar. "You're heading to the office. And I am going that way, so just get on."
Melanie narrowed her eyes, flicking her gaze from him to the bike as if it were a wild animal waiting to pounce.
"Can't you take a car?" she asked, grasping at any excuse.
Adam scoffed, shaking his head as if the very suggestion offended him. "I don't know how to drive."
Her eyes widened slightly. "You—what?"
"Stop stalling," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, edged with amusement. It was almost as if he knew why she was hesitating, like he could feel the uncertainty crackling in the air between them.
Annoyed at herself, she exhaled sharply and moved to sit side-saddle, only to be interrupted by another one of his scoffs.
"You'll be blown off before we even leave the gate if you sit like that," he said, shaking his head. "Come on, what era do you think we're in? It's not like I asked you to straddle me."
Her mouth fell open at the blatant remark, heat creeping up her neck. "You—"
Before she could finish snapping at him, he reached for a spare helmet, flipping up the visor. Without a word, he slipped it onto her head, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin beneath her chin as he adjusted the strap. His touch was brief, impersonal even, but damn it—her stomach still dipped.
She gritted her teeth. Nope. Absolutely not. She was not going to react to him.
Huffing out a breath, she swung one leg over the bike, forcing herself to sit properly behind him. The movement caused her skirt to ride up slightly, exposing just a little more of her bare thighs than she was comfortable with. The seat was warm beneath her, but it was nothing compared to the solid heat of the man in front of her.
For a moment, she hesitated, hovering awkwardly, placing only the lightest touch on his jacket.
It wasn't enough for him.
Without warning, his hands slid back, fingers brushing against the outer sides of her thighs.
She stiffened. "What are you doing?"
Instead of answering, he simply tightened his grip, pulling her forward in one firm motion. A startled gasp escaped her as she found herself pressed flush against his back, her knees now bracketing his hips. The scent of leather and something distinctly him flooded her senses.
"This," he murmured, "Is better."
Melanie barely had time to process how intimately close they were before the bike roared to life beneath them. The sudden vibration sent a jolt through her, and instinct took over. Her arms snapped around his waist, fingers clutching his leather jacket as they shot forward.
Adam let out a short, knowing chuckle, the sound vibrating through his back. "Told you to hold on tight."
Melanie gritted her teeth and clung to him for dear life regretting getting onto this beast from the first minute onwards.
The man was not just reckless! He was dangerous to the lives of the people on the road.
She kept her eyes shut for most of the ride, unwilling to witness just how recklessly he was weaving through traffic. It was either that, or she'd scream, and she refused to give Adam the satisfaction.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only about thirty minutes, the bike slowed before coming to a smooth stop.
Melanie exhaled sharply, her pulse still racing as she cautiously opened her eyes. They weren't at the office entrance but a short distance away, tucked near a side street that offered just enough privacy.
Before she could question him, his voice came, smooth and knowing.
"I don't mind dropping you off at the entrance," he said lazily, one hand resting on the throttle as he glanced back at her. "But I figured you wouldn't like that."
She stiffened. He was right. The last thing she needed was to show up at work on the back of Adam's bike. With her arms wrapped around him. Especially when her husband had just returned.
Hurriedly, she swung her leg over and all but jumped off the bike.
"Thank you. This is perfect," she muttered quickly, already taking a step back. She just needed to get away.
Melanie frowned and turned, only to find Adam watching her with a dark, unreadable expression. He tugged her a fraction closer, his voice dipping low.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
She blinked. "What—"
His gaze flicked pointedly toward her head.
Her eyes widened. The helmet.
Oh. Oops.
She had been so flustered that she hadn't even realized she was still wearing it. Hastily, she reached up to unbuckle the strap, but before she could fumble with it, his hands were there.
She looked down at the leather gloves on his hand that did not cover his finger tips and had the absurd thought of why he did not wear full gloves. But that thought was soon pushed back to the recesses of her mind.
Then, instead of simply taking the helmet, he lingered, slipping it off slowly, his fingers threading through her hair as if it were the most natural thing in the world as he muttered," Wouldn't want you to go into the office with helmet head.
Melanie froze.
Her breath caught in her throat as his fingertips grazed her scalp, his touch unhurried and deliberate.
That was it. Enough.
She jerked her head back, snapping, "Adam. Please! Know your limits. I am your brother's wife."
The words came out sharp, meant to cut through whatever tension had settled between them.
But instead of looking guilty or backing off, Adam merely smirked.
And for a moment, she was distracted—no, entranced—by the glint of silver at the corner of his mouth. The small ring on the side of his lip caught the light as he sneered, his voice laced with something dangerous.
"What brother?" he scoffed, tilting his head. "Your husband is not my brother."
Melanie inhaled sharply.
Her stomach twisted as she tried to keep her voice steady. "Even if you don't consider him your brother, I am a married woman, Adam. Married."
He didn't look impressed. If anything, his smirk deepened, and his fingers—those same fingers that had just been tangled in her hair—came up to tap against her chin.
"Hmm," he mused, his voice a murmur. "Are you married? Really?"
The words sent a jolt through her, striking something deep in her chest.
Melanie stilled. "What do you mean by that!"
Adam shrugged as he straightened his motorcycle and roared away.