Page 36 of Her Dirty Biker
Princess steps forward first, expression soft. “Hey, Willow. You okay?”
I nod, though my throat’s too tight to speak. Diesel finally lets me down, gently, like I’m breakable, and keeps one possessive arm around my waist.
Rebel claps Diesel on the back. “We got Guardrail. Or what’s left of him. You wanna be there when we finish it?”
Diesel’s eyes go dark, but he looks down at me before answering. “No.”
Jinx offers me a water bottle. “You need anything else, dollface?”
“I’m okay,” I manage, voice hoarse.
More people drift in—checking on me, asking questions, offering food or clothes or a shower. One guy I don’t know tries to flirt.
“You look good for a girl who got kidnapped,” he says with a smirk. “What do you say? Dance with me?”
Before I can respond, Diesel steps in front of me, broad chest blocking my view.
“She’s not dancing with anyone,” he growls.
Alright, alright,” the guy mutters, backing off with hands raised. “Didn’t know she was claimed.”
Diesel turns back toward me, jaw still tight. “You okay?”
I nod again, but my heart is pounding. Everyone here saw the way he said it. The way he meant it. Claimed.
I should hate that word. It should make me feel like property. Like something he just grabbed off the shelf and slapped a sticker on.
But instead? It makes something deep in my chest flutter. Makes my knees feel unsteady in a totally different way.
Because I don’twantto be anyone’s, I want to behis.
Later, after the crowd thins and most of the club settles back into their usual late-night chaos, Diesel pulls me into his room.
The door shuts, the noise fades, and we’re alone. He turns to face me, arms crossed, face unreadable.
“I should’ve taken you back to the safehouse,” he says. “I just… I needed you close. I needed them to see you.”
I step toward him. “See me how?”
He swallows hard. “As mine.”
The heat that rolls through me isn’t fear or discomfort or shame—it’s fire. White-hot, unignorable fire.
“Do you mean that?” I whisper.
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”
“You don’t have to take care of me, Diesel. I know I’ve made a mess of everything—”
He grabs my hand and brings it to his chest. “Stop. You didn’t make anything messy. I was already halfway gone the second I saw you in that casino. You were never just some girl to me.”
“I don’t belong in this world.”
“You belong in my world.”
There’s no bravado in his voice. No fake MC swagger. Just truth. Just him.
I let him pull me in. Let him wrap his arms around me again. My cheek rests on his chest, and for the first time since they took me, I feel safeandseen.
