Page 127 of Dirty Salvation

“What’s it to be? Do you wanna live here?”

“This---this is your house, Rider, isn’t it?” She wanted confirmation since he wasn’t offering it willingly.

“So? You said you wanted your own place. You can live here. It’s stood empty most of the time.”

He didn’t get it. “But it’syoursand you can’t just say I can live here like it means nothing, Rider. That’s huge and crazy. This is your house. It’s no different than being in the clubhouse. I said I wanted myownplace, found and paid for by me, to stand on my own two feet again.

“It’s something I needed to do for me, to know I can be on my own, regain my independence. Not move from your one place to your other one place. That makes no sense. And don’t you think we could have discussed this before you dragged me here under a cloud of biker silence?”

He snorted and looked up to the ceiling. “Discussing it now, babe.”

She followed his hard gaze, wondering if he was searching out his bearing up there?Look for mine while you’re there. Was she making him mad?Ha. That was rich. When she’d been perfectly clear in what she wanted. Was it her fault he didn't know how to communicate, mister 'do as I say and don't ask fucking questions' Ugh, maddening.

His phone rang and he ignored it.

"It's stillyourhouse..." His. Just like the clubhouse and everything she had, including the clothes on her back, was because of him.

Without his tenor of voice rising he let his temper erupt. “Goddammit, Icy. Goddamn and fucks sake. You don’t have to look so fuckin’ thrilled that I’m offering you something. I won’t be here, you can have it all to yourself just like you want, I was barely here anyway. I won’t even step over the shittin’ doorstep if you don’t ask me to. There’s no strings, no payment. I thought you’d like the surprise considerin' you’re so desperate toleavethe clubhouse.So, do you want to fuckin’ live here?”

She heardDesperate to leave me. She gave a little hmph. Turning her nose up and away from his burst of annoyance. The man was too used to being the one in charge giving the God complex orders he didn't know when he was overstepping his bossy steps. Ignoring him, her feet shifted under her to give better attention to the house. At least it was tidy even with the funky air smell, that she could deal with a couple of candles. Confessing quietly once her back was turned. "This has nothing to do with us, Rider. Just so you know. I want us.” Making sure he grasped that. It was a place to live, not a break up. “I need safety and order, I need to know what's coming. I don't want to be surprised, Rider. You could have used your big-boy words and told me about your house instead of expecting me to follow like a clueless puppy and let me,oh, I don’t know … allow me to weigh in on the decision.” God. Men.

He might be off the scale beautiful but boy was he lacking in consideration, she supposed it came with his job title, the buck started and ended at his feet but it didn’t justify taking the only little bit of power she was trying to scrape back out of her hands.

Even if the gesture was a nice one. And she could admit it was. Dammit. Itwasnice of him.Uggh. Exhaling her frustration away, she turned to face him after a long minute of silence between them. Lifting her gaze, she caught his unwavering glare, waiting for her answer. Zara mentally shrugged. It was a lovely house. She’d pictured renting a pokey little apartment above a noisy bar, now he was giving her a house. It just didn't seem right.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Rider was a fixer. She’d presented him with what he saw as a problem and now Zara was stood central of his magic solution.

He didn’t flinch, just continued to wait out her answer. If his jaw was to go by then the racing tic along his cheek was a good indication, he thought he was about to hear her tell him to fuck off.

Bossy man. Sweet man. She inhaled and agreed it was actually a great house.

Independence beckoned.

Zara was both scared and fuckingscared.

She had conditions, though.

"Fine, okay. I will take your kind if not steamroll’ed offer, Rider. But only until I can sort out my finances and find myownplace that’s just mine. And I’m damn well-paying rent, I won’t live here if you expect me not to give you a cent, that’s just crazy. I’m not being a kept woman.”

He’d bought her clothes. Gave her food and a roof over her head already, now wanted to hand her his house. Dammit, was he going for sainthood?

Saint Outlaw.

Tick. Silence. Tick. She watched his jaw grow tighter. All flex and muscle. He moved her way again, his posture to anyone else would seem casual and relaxed but Zara clocked the rigidness of his fingers as they clenched against his hips. She could swear she heard Rider curse beneath his breath but he kept himself in check. And when she rose her eyebrow at him for some reaction, a word, or to acknowledge that they had a deal his eyes had gone flat, cold, his lips drawn together in a thin line.

“Thank fuck we got that sorted. I’ll get one of the boys to come by with groceries, the pantry is pretty stocked, you just need the fresh shit.”

“You don’t have to--”

“They’ll bring the shit, Icy. It needs restocking anyway.” When his phone rang again he answered angrily. “What the fuck is it? ... Who did they send? … fucks sake, he alone? … unlikely. Keep him there, Hawk, I’m on my way. Do me a favor, tell Pretty-boy to get his ass to my house ... yeah, there now … Zara's movin' in ... just do it.” he hung up. “I gotta shoot off, baby. Out of towners come to see me, should be fun.” His sarcastic tone said the opposite. “Pretty is swinging by, he’s on-route, he’s gonna sit outside, you won’t know he’s there unless you need him, look around, see if it’s to your likin’,” Zara could hear the ‘Princess’ he wasn’t pasting on the end of that sentence.

Her nose wrinkled. She liked the house fine, just not the delivery shoved down her throat. Men.Biker men. “You like it, it’s yours.”

“Rider. It’s really not necessary to-----” he’d strode to the door not giving her hardly a chance to speak, god that man, she wanted to kick him! With his dark jeans and long sleeved shirt, the thick boots, and the thumb ring, his hair caught back in his trademark bun he looked like one of those models that had turned to the dark side. The visual alone made her scowl and her mouth water. She’d still punch him, handsome or not.

Three hard strides he redirected himself back towering over Zara, cupping her face he crushed her mouth possessively like he owned it before she could utter a word, his tongue got busy sneaking and stroking and right as she got into kissing him, moaning, he pulled back, brushed his thumb against her wet lips.

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