Page 59 of Dirty Salvation

Maybe he was the kind of man to leave the cap from the toothpaste. That was a deal breaker for all women.

God forbid he had mommy issues.

Zara shook her head and circled back to the things he'd said to her recently. It was absurd to try to understand the burning energy between them, like a juiced up current of pure electricity coursing from one to the other. How could it be? she reflected, standing beneath the entryway covering as she stared out over the compound, lost in her own thoughts. How could it be real when it had been only a week? You can't pick up a one-night stand and turn it into something with the space of three years between it. It was improbable. She couldn't go from MC slut-toy to MC-girlfriend in a few days.

Could she?

Zara didn't know how to process the feeling without being overwhelmed.

Was she just transferring years of horror into emotions of lust and want because he was showing her kindness and they were feelings she could understand?

Wavering emotions became stronger like she could grasp onto the answer and feel okay again, to set that aside and focus on what should be more important and that was reintroducing herself to normal life again.

Only that wasn't happening, not when every time Rider's eyes landed on her, her belly flipped over and crash landed on her feet.

The day had begun the same as the rest had this week, with Zara's heart unevenly thumping, until her eyes peeled open for her to recognize the safety of Rider's room.

The third day, or pre-crazy-town day, as she was now calling it, she’d found the kitchen and made herself coffee with a slice of toast before anyone else was around.

The silence was golden and for those few minutes leaning against the kitchen counter Zara had forgotten everything. It had tasted so good slathered in real churned nothing fake about it butter she'd made three more pieces. It was there one of the members had discovered her mid-bite.

Seemed reasonable after her mild panic to pour him a cup of coffee, though her legs were urging her to run back to Rider's room where she could lock the door and pretend she was alone.

Cowardly didn't suit Zara, she'd faced bigger monsters and the guy across the counter from her, though he was big, huge in fact, well over six foot and change, with his mop of black hair he religiously brushed out of his eyes, gave Zara mind of a giant teddy bear lumbering around the kitchen. She’d stayed.

Coolly offered to make him toast if he was hungry. He'd grinned like she'd granted him a gold bar. Called her ma’am. And told her his name was Tiny. She instantly like him.

Three more bikers came in. She did the same. Adding eggs once she'd found a skillet. Two more men and more breakfasts were made. It kind of snowballed from there with Zara cooking food that morning for most of the MC. Barely saying a word, keeping out of their way, but listening to their normal conversations. They'd all thanked her, smiled and taken their food off to eat. Returning the plates afterward with another thank you.

She'd been quiet, shy, marginally panicked.

Bikers with manners. It felt a little like the twilight zone.

And then her monumental freakout. For god’s sake, she’d been naked in the shower with Rider.

Naked.

Naked.

And too preoccupied blubbering to even take a lick of notice, to see if his body had changed in any way.

She recalled he’d been incredibly kind.Sokind. And the look he’d given her, gaze sympathetic and devastated. Zara had allowed herself two days of solitude and then an hour ago declared enough. Her emotions were pissing her off, so god knows what they must be doing to the man who shared his room with her.

That brought her week up to date, and godwhata week, she was exhausted, beat down from her own baggage.

For all his kindness, Rider hadn't asked her for anything, she'd thought to make him food, but she'd found the kitchen occupied earlier with one of the groupies pulling things out of the fridge, making a holy mess of a plate of sandwiches, did the woman not know how to slice bread? possibly all her skills were in dick sucking, but that was just a guess as Zara looked her over, the leather red mini skirt showing the world her underpants, and the bulging breasts in the black bra top.

Classy sandwich maker.

Zara had offered to help, the girl had scowled, misshaping her already too thin pencil eyebrows, informing her it washerjob to provide for the boys and Zara wasn't welcome.

Okay then.

The girl smelled of a territorial bitch and looked Zara up and down as if to wonder what in the hell she was even doing there.

Don’t worry, honey, I’m thinking the same damn thing.

Irrational fear was her answer. She'd latched onto the only one person she had vaguely known outside of the biblical sense, using Rider as a shield and buffer.

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