Page 41 of Dash

She shakes her head. “Most guys rarely stay after the sex, Dash.”

My jaw grinds together. “First of all, you don’t talk about other men when you’re standing there in my clothes. Second, I’m not like the other guys you’ve been with, Dayna.”

“I’m getting that,” she says softly.

I hand her a mug of freshly brewed coffee when she gets close enough. “Food is on the way. Your fridge is a cry for help, sweetheart.”

The indelicate snort she makes is fucking adorable. “I don’t need to stock up my fridge when I have my knight in leather and denim turning up to feed me, do I?”

I wrap my hand around her nape and her hands rest on my chest. I sweep my thumb under her ear, and watch the tension leave her face.

“I’ll feed you any time you want,” I tell her.

“Feeding me, giving me hoodies… A girl could become dependant on this.”

“You can have my entire fucking wardrobe, Dayna.”

She smiles and that cracks my chest. “I’m pretty sure if I steal anything else of yours I can open my own store. Tall, dark, broody biker attire will fly off the shelves.”

I raise a brow. “You think I’m broody?”

Her hands wrap around my back, holding me tight, as if she’s scared to let go. “I think it kind of comes with the territory. You, Riot, Mace, you’ve all got this mystery grump thing going on.”

My lips twitch. “You make me less grumpy,” I tell her.

“Wait until you have to deal with my 3 a.m. crises and my mother. You’ll soon be back to your default setting.”

I let her slip out of my arms, sensing she needs a moment to breathe. That’s the second time she’s mentioned her mother and not in a flattering light. “Babe, I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

“You say that now, but just wait.”

I don’t need to wait, but I don’t say it. She’s not in a place to hear it, not yet.

But when she is, I’m going to erase every single memory she has of someone making her feel less than.

And then I’ll show her exactly what she is worth.

ELEVEN

DAYNA

He stays for breakfast,as if it’s completely normal not to leave after having sex with me.

It’s weird, because I’ve never done this before with anyone. For the last year, I have pin balled between losers and pretentious pricks who made me feel like nothing more than a convenient stopgap for them.

But Dash, he wants to be here. He sits on my couch like it’s his, moves around my kitchen like he’s made a hundred meals at the stove, and he holds me like I’m not an afterthought.

It feels…Nice. And I don’t know what to do with nice.

Don’t overthink it, don’t freak out.

I let myself be in the moment, in case this is all we ever have. In case he wakes up tomorrow and decides to find someone less complicated.

Dragging less baggage.

In the evening, we eat the leftover takeaway, like he said we would.

We laugh over stupid movies we’ve seen, talking nonsense about bikes and food and everything in between. It’s easy. And that hope in my chest continues to blossom.

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