Page 55 of His Road Dog

She raised her head, her heart catching. No matter how much she wanted him to stay, she had to let him go. "I'm going to miss you, Michael. More than you'll ever know."

His gaze intensified, and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. A myriad of emotions flooded her. She was thankful he never fought her the last step. He'd given her that, and she knew it was hard for him. He was a dominating man who liked to have control over every aspect of his life, including her.

But she'd seen how he'd given her the free will to control her reactions to him whenever they had sex. And he was giving it to her now by stepping back and letting her have her goodbye. She hadn't realized that before as she'd tried to figure him out. Standing in front of him now, everything was crystal clear to her.

She stretched to her tiptoes and turned her lips skyward. He met her halfway, capturing her mouth.

Devouring her, he took the kiss. She clung to him, taking everything he'd given her. Each second that passed weakened her resolve to leave him.

He pulled back, went forward again to her, and with closed lips, kissed her hard before straightening. "You've got my phone number."

Her throat spasmed, and she nodded. He'd already told her that if she needed help, to call him. Since he knew there was no phone at her parents, he had never asked for her number.

Once she left, she'd truly be gone. Even if he tried to look for her, he'd never find her.

He ran his hand down his beard. "We'll stick around for a half-hour in case you need us."

She kissed him again. "Goodbye, Michael."

She walked away, not looking at the bikers waiting for their president. Inside the car, her hands shook. She had to try and start the car twice before the engine turned over, and she could put the gear in Drive.

Refusing to look back because she was afraid of falling apart and changing her mind about leaving him, she kept driving. She took the road deep into the Northern California forest automatically, leaving the nearest small town behind. Once her tires hit gravel, she started looking for signs that someone was near.

She made it clear to the dirt road. From all appearances, it looked like a track for off-roaders. But it was closely guarded. Those who unknowingly took the unmarked path would be turned around by men who forbid them entrance.

Rounding a corner, she spotted the familiar markings on the cedar tree. A wave of homesickness swept through her, and she stopped. Searching the undergrowth of the forest, she caught sight of a man stepping out onto the road.

Peter, a man a few years older than her, walked toward her holding a shotgun. She rolled down the window and waved. She was home.

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