Chapter 2
Ding! Ding!
My phone vibrated twice in succession.
First message: Friend Request—"Leon has sent you a friend request."
Second message: System notification, red alert banner. But I didn't even glance at the second one—I hit accept immediately.
On screen, Leon's profile lit up.
It showed a pair of amber eyes, more dangerous and feral than Kieran's silver-gray ones, like a predator lurking in darkness, ready to pounce.
Watching me, Kieran suddenly smiled. He stood up, leaving a black card on the table: "Dinner's on me. Consider it... severance pay."
"Thanks." I pocketed my phone. "Hope you find yourself a nice werewolf girlfriend soon."
Kieran walked to the door, then suddenly turned back: "Lily, one last piece of advice—if Leon asks about me, just say we were casual friends."
"Why?"
"Because if he finds out we slept together..." Kieran's expression turned serious. "He'll kill me."
With that, he left without looking back.
I sat there, staring at my phone screen.
Three seconds later, a new message popped up.
Leon: [Hello, Lily. Heard you're... special. Free tomorrow night? I want to meet the woman who wasn't scared off by my cousin.]
His tone was more direct than Kieran's, more commanding, carrying an authority that brooked no refusal.
I licked my lips, fingers flying across the screen.
"Free. When and where?"
The reply came almost instantly: "Tomorrow, 8 PM. I'll pick you up. No underwear—I'll just tear it off anyway. Throw something on—just enough to get you to the bike."
I smiled.
This Leon seemed way more interesting than Kieran.
That night I barely slept, mind racing with what tomorrow might bring.
The next evening, I changed outfits three times.
Finally settled on an oversized white button-down shirt, just long enough to cover my ass. Underneath? Like he said—nothing. I took a few steps and immediately felt the fabric brushing against bare skin. Fuck, this was more obscene than being naked.
Eight o'clock sharp, I stood outside my apartment building, staring at the empty street.
8:10 PM. Still no one.
8:20 PM. I was getting annoyed.
8:30 PM. I sent Leon a message: [Standing me up?]
Read. No reply.
Fuck, was he messing with me?
I turned to head back inside when my phone buzzed.
Leon: [Go back to bed. I'm busy tonight.]
I stared for a moment, then laughed.
Interesting. Playing hard to get?
[Fine.] I replied. [Another time then.]
Leon: [No need to reschedule.]
I was about to ask what he meant when another message came through: [Wait for me.]
Then nothing.
Wait? Until when? I stared at the screen. No more replies came.
Whatever. Come or don't.
I went back to my apartment, stripped off the shirt, and sprawled naked on the bed. He wasn't coming anyway—wearing anything was pointless.
Midnight. A deafening engine roar jolted me awake.
I fumbled groggily for my phone—00:07. Another roar from downstairs, accompanied by bass-like vibrations that made my entire bed shake.
Fuck, who's racing their engine in the middle of the night?
I rolled out of bed, yanked open the curtains, ready to yell.
Then I froze.
A silver-gray custom motorcycle idled downstairs, headlight flashing three times. Low and aggressive, exhaust pipes gleaming under the streetlights. The rider sat astride it, pulled off his helmet, and looked up at me.
In the moonlight, that face was perfect enough to snap me fully awake.
My phone vibrated.
Leon: [Come down. Now.]
I raised an eyebrow. So this was his "wait for me"? Showing up in the middle of the night to what—make a statement?
I looked down at myself—completely naked.
Whatever. That white shirt barely covered anything anyway.
I grabbed the shirt from beside the bed, threw it on without bothering to button it all the way, and rushed downstairs. The elevator was too slow—I took the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears, flying down flight after flight until I burst through the main door, breathless.
Then I locked eyes with him.
Deep, dangerous, openly appraising.
Leon's gaze traveled down from my face, pausing at my open collar, then the curves barely concealed beneath, finally landing on my bare thighs.
A dangerous smile curved his lips.
"Not bad." His voice was low and rough. "Good girl."
That's when I realized—the wind was blowing, lifting the shirt, and he could clearly see I had nothing underneath.
Fuck.
But I didn't back down. Instead, I smiled challengingly: "So you're Leon? Making quite the entrance, huh? Showing up this late."
He didn't answer, just tossed me the helmet: "Put it on. Get on."
Not an invitation. A command.
I caught the helmet, eyeing the motorcycle: "I don't know how to ride one of these."
"You don't need to ride." Leon patted the seat behind the gas tank. "Just hold on tight. I'm not gentle like my cousin—you fall, you're roadkill."
I put on the helmet and swung my leg over the back seat. The white shirt fell completely open with the movement. I could feel the cold leather seat against my bare thighs and ass.
"Hold on tight." Leon glanced back, a flash of gold in his eyes. "I mean it."
I hesitated for a second, then wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.
The shirt was too thin. My breasts pressed against his back, separated only by that thin layer of fabric, his body heat making my heart race.
Leon's body tensed noticeably.
"Hold on." His voice was rougher now.
The engine roared like a beast, and the bike shot forward like an arrow.
Fuck!
The massive acceleration slammed me into Leon's back. My chest compressed against him, every breath making me acutely aware of our bodies pressed together.
Leon's body was getting hotter.
He accelerated.
The motorcycle tore through the streets at insane speeds—the speedometer needle climbing wildly: 80, 100, 120... When he took corners, the bike leaned so low it nearly scraped the ground. I clung to him, feeling like I might fly off any second.
"Scared?" Leon shouted over the wind.
"No!" I shouted back. "Can you slow down?"
He didn't.
He went faster.
I could feel his breathing change, the muscles in his back tensing. Every turn pressed my body tighter against his, the friction from my chest making my face burn.
Damn, this was hotter than sex.
