Page 26 of Her Dirty Biker
"Why do you keep trying to push me away?"
My whole body goes still.
She lifts her head, those soft brown eyes searching my face. "You act like you don’t want this, but I know you do. I can feel it every time you touch me."
I reach up, brushing my knuckles down her cheek. "Because I’m not good for you."
Her brow furrows. "You think I don’t know how to spot a good man?"
I almost laugh. "Willow, I’ve done shit that would make you run screaming. I don’t do relationships. I don’t play house."
She presses her body closer. "You’re doing it right now."
That pulls a real laugh out of me, short and bitter. "This is a safehouse, not a fucking fairytale. I’m trying to keep you alive, that’s it."
"Bullshit." She says it softly, but it hits like a punch to the gut.
Goddamn it. I kiss her like it’s the last time. Slow, deep, with every emotion I’ve tried to shove down since the second I saw her. She melts into me, arms wrapping tight around my neck, bare legs sliding over my thighs.
I roll her under me and let the heat build again. Fingers tangling in hair, teeth scraping skin. She gasps when I bite her neck, moans when I palm her breast, arching into my touch like she’s starving for it.
"You want it again, angel?"
She nods, wide-eyed. "Yes, please."
"Say it."
"I want you, Daddy." Every fucking time she says that word, I lose my mind.
We don’t rush. We savor. Afterward, she lies curled against my chest, and I brush kisses across her forehead.
"What happens now?" she asks.
I don’t have an answer, but I know one thing for sure. Nothing and no one will touch her. Not while I’m breathing.
Chapter ten
Willow
The morning sunlight is hazy when I blink awake. It filters through gauzy curtains, warming my bare legs tangled in Diesel’s sheets. The scent of sex still clings to the air. His arm is draped heavily across my waist, a possessive weight that makes me feel wanted.
I shift, careful not to disturb him, but it’s useless. Diesel stirs behind me with a low, rough groan, his hand flexes over my hip. When I glance back, his sleepy gaze meets mine.
“Where do you think you’re going, little fox?”
The nickname makes heat bloom low in my belly. “Nowhere,” I whisper. “Just stretching.”
He leans in, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of my spine. “Good. Stay right here for a minute.”
Wrapped in warmth, his chest against my back, the world beyond this room fades. My brain, though, won’t stop spinning. I should be thinking about last night and how Diesel made me feel things I didn’t know were possible.
Instead, I’m thinking about Guardrail and the words I overheard.Shipment. Clubhouse. Savage Kings will pay.
I haven’t even told Diesel everything. Not really. I told him what I thought mattered, the broad strokes, but the specifics? I kept those locked up tight. Part of me still wonders if I misheard, if I misunderstood.
“You’re quiet,” Diesel murmurs against my neck. His expression softens, but there’s something cautious in the way he watches me.
I lift a hand and trace the edge of the scar on his cheek, then let my fingers wander to the ink that wraps his collarbone. “You’re really here.”
