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He hesitated then slipped into the coat. As expected, it was snug across his shoulders, looking like it had been shrunk in the dryer. I hid a smile behind my hand.

“I have something you might want to wear too,” Mercer said.

“Oh?” I arched a brow.

“It’s outside.”

He turned and held the door open for me, quite the gentleman, and we exited into the parking lot. The arid air wasan immediate affront, but I noticed the soul-sapping heat less than the vehicle situated front and center.

A motorcycle.

Smooth matte black with whitewall tires and a swath of white and red across the tank emblazoned with the letter V. Twin helmets perched on the seat.

“Well, this is a first,” I remarked while moving closer. “Victory,” the word read along the side. I traced a hand over the leather and metal as I circled the bike, the warmth of the material soaking into my skin.

“Careful,” Mercer warned. “The pipes are hot.”

“At ease, soldier.” I giggled and flicked him a glance over my shoulder. “Demons don’t burn.”

He backed off a half-step but kept an eye on me while I finished my inspection and came to a stop beside the seat. I was no stranger to getting my legs around something, even in a dress, but I had a feeling once the motorcycle got moving, my skirt was going to turn into a sail.

“Can a girl ride sidesaddle on this thing?” I tapped a fingertip against the gas cap.

Mercer’s forehead creased. That made two times I’d flustered him tonight, and I was just getting started.

“Probably not,” he admitted. “Do you need to change? I can wait.”

I waved him off. “We’ll make it work. Lucky for you, I wore my pretty panties.” With a wicked grin, I swept my skirt back to flash the garter on my thigh.

Pink crept into his cheeks, and his gaze darted away like I’d mooned him.

Flustered count: three.

While Mercer faced away, I took note of the helmets waiting for riders. Lifting one, I held it out. “Is this the thing I need to wear?”

His head snapped up. “Yeah,” he replied. “Need some help?”

Putting on a helmet? No.

Finding one that fit, though…

There was a reason Colt was the only Doll with bragging rights about a hat collection. Well, and now Zephyr with his perfect hair, ass, and everything else. But we couldn’t all be Satan’s favorites.

My grin turned crooked as I looped a finger around the spiral of my right horn, drawing Mercer’s gaze.

His jaw dropped. “I-I didn’t even think about that.”

I flicked my tail and chuckled. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just extra accessories,” I said. “And don’t worry about the helmet. I’m pretty hardheaded. I’ll survive.”

Mercer wavered through a nod. He grabbed the extra helmet and tucked it into his saddlebag then donned his own helmet and buckled it under his chin.

“Okay… all set,” he muttered.

I hopped onto the bike, tucking my skirt under me and letting my tail flick lazily over the side. Mercer swung his leg over, and I scooted up behind him. It was a snug fit with my chest to his back and my arms draped around his waist.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I replied then pressed my cheek to his shoulder. Nice and firm.