Page 81 of Dirty Salvation

He’d been patient if not a little growly when she hummed and deliberated over clothes. Did she get the red sweater or the blue, and what of the black pants, but then she would be better getting the beige shirt and she kind of liked the flannel shirt because it would keep her warm in the evening. “Just get them all.” he’d growled. She didn’t of course, only choose three in the end, but his gesture and flash of blue irritation warmed her deep down. She didn’t tell him she thought he looked cute stood tall as a tree among the women’s clothing department while she chose more underwear.

Cute big bad biker man.

She decided then and there, a bolt of anxious clarity, with her heart thumping and her belly doing a salsa dance as she watched him pull on his own helmet. A nondescript building with a yellow sign across the street had caught her eye and she’d known it was good timing. If she was moving forward as she wanted, then she had to leave behind everything where it belonged and she still had threads loose. “Rider…”

“If you wanna grab some food before we head back there’s a burger joint on the next block. It’s got good fried pickles.” He offered. She couldn’t eat right now.

“No, it’s not that. Do we have time to make one more stop?”

She was nervous as a rattlesnake as he stopped his long-legged stride to look down at her, his brow arched in question. Here goes. “There’s a clinic across the street.” she pointed. “One of those walk-in places from the looks. And I. Well. I.”Christ. It was harder to say it than she’d thought. And toRiderof all people. She didn’t want him to know how dirty she felt inside. Words stuck in her throat, she inhaled and blurted it out. “I need to get checked out ... tested … I should get tested.”

A streak of shame stained her face and even though it was dark now, nearing nine o’clock, with only street lamps lit, she was sure he could see it cloaking her cheeks going done to her soul, all that dirtiness on show.

Zara was so fucking glad those men were dead, she hoped they rotted in Hell forevermore.

She didn’t want to tell Rider of the agonizing abortions forced on her by the Rebel’s physician. The man was no more doctor than she was and the pain she suffered because of it said as much. It wasn’t as though she would have wanted those babies, god, the mere thought of it brought bile to her throat, to her they hadn’t been foetuses, but a disease, she was glad it was ripped from her, or she would have done it herself.

Of course, they hadn’t wanted their slave knocked up.

But now she was left with all the what ifs and---- god.

She heated with more shame, unable to look at Rider.

Why would he want a woman who had just told him she could basically be riddled with every STD known to the modern era.

Disgusted.

“Sure, baby. We can get that done for you. It's a good idea.” he said it so matter of factly, like it was no big deal.

His sweetness hurt her heart.

She didn’t deserve this life, but here it was. Glaringly real. Zara rounded her shoulders to look at Rider. Not an ounce of judgement on his face. Relief flooded her system.

She might as well go all in, she thought, since she’d told him the worst.

“And. You’re right, we’re not only friends, so. I’ll get tested, and checked out and Rider...“ she watched both of his eyebrows slide down, his eyes hooded in concentration almost as if he knew what she’d say and he wanted to hear it with his own ears, but how could he when she’d only this moment decided it against all her better judgement, fuck, she needed to know if she could be normal again. “And I want us to have sex...”

As bombshells go, it was probably the biggest of her life. Her ears were only ringing a little.Say something.

Her face flamed hotter than ever, she fidgeted from foot to foot, lost in her own mortification she’d told him she wanted to have sex with him.Well done, Zara. My god. So buried in her own thoughts she barely heard.

“Fucking hell, Zara. How can I ride us home with my dick hard as a rock? You tell me this now? You couldn’t maybe tell me it at the club where we had a bed and privacy?” He exhaled hard, puffing out his scruff covered cheeks, sending his eyes to the sky as if asking Jesus himself for the strength not to strangle her.

It broke the tension. She giggled.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes pinned her. “You’re not sorry. You’re so far from sorry.”

“I am.” she insisted with a smile growing as they crossed the street, her hand tucked lovely and warm in his.

“You tell me you want me to fuck you, out here where I can’t get hands on you, baby. My dick is hard and we’re about to sit around this place for shit knows how long. You’re not sorry.”

“Isoam sorry, Rider! I take it back.” He was doing that breathing thing again, his nostrils flaring and she laughed this time.

How did he do that just pull all the tension and fear out of her? He was a miracle worker.

“Nope. No taking it back, you said it. Iheardit. You want a piece of me.” His smirk was so dirty so nasty so Rider she giggled.

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