The Biker's Teacher

Choice

CLAIRE

"Open the window, Claire." His voice wasn't a shout, but it carried perfectly over the roar of the storm and the idling engine."I'm not counting to three," he warned, his gaze locked onto mine, entirely unbothered by the rain drenching his face. "Open it before I decide to break it."

My hand shook as I reached for the manual window crank, cursing the ancient sedan under my breath. I rolled the glass down just a few inches.

"What do you want, Levi?" I snapped, my voice dripping with pure irritation. The fear was still there, coiled tight in my stomach, but the sheer frustration of my dead car and this endless night had completely burned through my patience.

"What do I want?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low as he leaned in closer to the gap. "I want you to stop acting like a lunatic. Look around you, Claire. It’s midnight, your piece-of-s**t car finally gave up on you, and you’re sitting on a dark shoulder in a torrential downpour with no phone."

"I am perfectly fine," I lied, glaring right back at him through the c***k. "I can handle it."

"With what?" he barked, a harsh, humourless laugh escaping his lips. "Your sparkling personality? Unlock the door."

"No."

"Claire, I am drenched, my boots are full of water, and I am losing my patience," he growled, slamming his palm flat against the roof of my car. "Unlock the door and get on the bike before I actually lose my mind."

The deafening roar of the highway finally died down. I blinked through the fogged visor of the spare helmet, my body still trembling from the freezing ride.

This wasn't my neighbourhood.

There were no cracked pavements, no flickering streetlights, and no towering, cramped apartment complexes. Instead, the motorcycle idled in front of a pair of massive,iron gates that opened into a sprawling, hyper-modern estate. Manicured lawns lined the driveway, and the house itself was a masterpiece of concrete, glass, and warm, expensive lighting.

Levi killed the engine. The sudden silence of the high-end neighbourhood was deafening, broken only by the steady pour of the rain.

"Where are we?" I demanded, my voice cracking as I struggled with the plastic clip of my own helmet. "This isn't my apartment, Levi. You said you were taking me home."

"I said I was taking you somewhere safe," he corrected flatly, his dark eyes fixed on me with that same irritating authority. "Your neighbourhood is a flood risk in a storm like this. My place isn't."

"I am not going inside your house," I hissed, "Turn this bike around and take me to my apartment right now."

Levi let out a short, exhausted breath, he simply turned his back to me and walked up the pristine stone steps towards his front porch.

"You have two choices, lady," he countered. "You come inside, get a hot shower, and dry off. Or you can sit out there on that leather seat and enjoy the storm. I really don't care either way."

He didn't wait for my answer. He left the front door wide open and walked straight inside, leaving the decision entirely up to me.

My jaw tightened as I watched the heavy mahogany door remain half-open, a beacon of warm, golden light mocking me from the porch. He thought he had me cornered. But my stubbornness was the only thing I had left.

"Go to hell, Levi," I muttered to the empty driveway.

I swung my leg off the bike, my waterlogged heels sinking into his pristine gravel driveway. I didn't look back at the mansion. I turned my face directly into the biting wind and started walking towards the massive gates. The freezing rain immediately blinded me, plastering my hair to my face, but I pushed forward. In my mind, I was already picturing the main road. I’d find a 24-hour diner. I’d call a cab. I didn't need his shelter, and I certainly didn't expect a man like him to swallow his pride and chase after me.

In one fluid, rough motion, I was scooped completely off the pavement.

"Levi! Put me down!" I shrieked, my hands instantly flailing against him.

My palms hit bare, damp skin. I blinked through the rain, my breath catching in my throat. He had stripped out of his soaked leather jacket and tailored shirt. He was wearing nothing but a pair of dark trousers, his broad chest and heavily tattooed shoulders exposed to the freezing elements. The intricate ink on his torso seemed to ripple as his muscles flexed under my weight, completely unbothered by the icy deluge.

"Shut up, Claire," he growled.

"Let me go! I can walk!" I yelled, kicking my legs wildly, but his arms were iron bands locking me against his chest.

"I told you I was out of patience," he snapped, his grip tightening until I could barely draw a breath. He turned on his heel, marching back up the stone steps with long, furious strides. "You want to act like a stubborn child and freeze to death on my driveway? Not on my watch. You're coming inside, whether you like it or not."