Page 72 of Truck Off

He hugs me closer, tucking my head under his chin. The safety I feel in his embrace has my chest fluttering and a heat building between my legs. That’s when I realize I’m not in the clothes I had on earlier. My jeans are gone and I’m wearing a large, baggy T-shirt. But I’m still in my bra and panties.

A small smile tugs at my lips at the image of Chase changing me out of my clothes while I’m passed out and sleeping off my meds. Something tells me he was a gentleman the entire time.

“These aren’t my clothes,” I say in as gentle a tone as possible.

He stiffens around me, then he tightens his hold like he’s afraid to let go. “You were a mess. Especially after I carried you to and from my truck. I was covered in grease and some of it transferred to you.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

My one-word response relaxes him. His hand slides around my neck and his fingers twine around my hair. “I washed your clothes after I showered. I got all the stains out.”

This time I stiffen as reality hits. I try to sit up but his hold on me is too tight. “Let me go. I have to work. What time is it?”

“Shh. It’s okay,” he whispers before he kisses the top of my head. “I called the parlor. Talked to your coworker, Felix. He said he’d call all your clients and reschedule.”

“You did?” I let myself relax into him even though the thought of missing out on the money from a shift makes me anxious. I can’t afford to miss work.

“Yeah. Might want to call him later. He sounded worried.”

I lift my chin. Our faces are close. So close that I can feel his breath brush across my cheek. “You took care of me.”

He cups my face and nods. “If you let me, I’ll always take care of you.”

Well crap. How am I supposed to hold on to my anger at him for lying about his identity when he says shit like that?

His eyes lock mine in place. There’s so much need and desire flickering in his expressive brown eyes. But it’s more than just lust. He cares, and for the life of me, I don’t understand why. No one cares for me like this. Like ever.

Dad tried in his own way, but he wasn’t capable of seeing to the needs of a daughter, let alone fulfilling them. He did his best after Mom left, but it was hard. Especially with how the MC treated him after he refused the former president’s demands.

I’ve had so few people in my life that I can truly count on that it’s always been easier to take care of myself. Giving up that control to someone else, even if I need the help, is scary.

“Lina,” he whispers my name. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You scare me,” I say before I can stop myself. He’s being honest and open with me right now. I owe him the same.

He nods like he understands, then he presses his forehead to mine. “What can I do to help you not be scared?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do. This is something I have to work on.”

He tightens his hold on me as if I just told him I was leaving while I figure out my feelings. We went from me being snuggled up while I slept off my migraine to our bodies being pressed together in a very intimate embrace.

He feels good next to me like this. Very good. And as close as we are, it’s still somehow not close enough.

Sensing his hesitation, I slide my hand around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. The zing of energy that rushes through me from this simple, gentle union of our lips has me melting into him.

He lets me control the kiss, taking my lead. Only parting his lips when I part mine. It’s slow and innocent and yet somehow it makes me feel things I didn’t know my body could feel.

But when my tongue darts out and brushes across his lower lip, everything changes. A low rumbling growl builds up from his chest and fills me with more need than I’ve ever felt toward a man. That one small move unleashes the beast inside him, and he takes control.

He rolls me over, parting my legs with his knee. His tongue dives into my mouth, stealing my breath as his very hard erection presses against my core. I’m in nothing but a thin pair of cotton panties, and he’s still wearing his jeans. That will not do.

I want to feel him—all of him. While his hands twine with my hair, I let mine roam down his body. My hands cup his ass and press his cock into me. I moan at the feel of his rough jeans rubbing against my clit. But that’s not what I want.

I want to feel him with no barriers between us. I reach around to the front and quickly unbutton his jeans.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do, because he pulls his mouth from mine and stops my hand from moving inside his jeans to grip him.

“Lina,” his raspy voice says my name like a plea.

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