Page 54 of June 7

"Come here a sec," said Bane.

Slim, soft arms wrapped around him from behind. Warmth settled on his back. He had cabin fever.

"Let's walk down to the water," he said.

She let go of him. He caught her wrist before she could move away. It hadn't taken him long to understand Daisy never walked on the beach. She never sat and gazed at the ocean. She never enjoyed where she lived because a part of her was stuck in the past.

What she'd seen go down the night her father killed her mom and then drove himself into the ocean scarred her.

He rubbed her arms with his thumbs. "I'll be right beside you."

"No."

"The water is on its way out. There's rocks or seashells left behind on the sand."

"I don't want to walk on the beach." She jerked her hands away.

He turned around and focused on her. She'd gone pale. All the joy on her face from earlier in the day was replaced with a stoic expression she used when the walls around her popped up.

"I get why you've got into a habit of not going on the beach." He caught her before she could walk out of the room. "But you'll be with me. Can we enjoy the ocean together?"

"That's not fair," she whispered.

"Not trying to upset you."

"Well, you have." She walked out of the room and into the hallway.

The door hiding the washer and dryer out of sight opened. From the sound of it, she threw herself into doing a load of clothes to avoid the conversation.

He rubbed the back of his neck. It was hard to accept that he couldn't repair the trauma her father had caused her.

That kind of damage was unimaginable for him, having grown up without a family. All he could do was try and understand how her family dynamics affected her. Daisy was damaged in a way that the scars weren't fading, and there was nothing he could do to take away her pain. All he could do was be here for her as she lived with the aftermath of the crimes.

He entered the hallway and found her standing in front of the washer, dropping towels into the drum. He circled his arms around her middle and pulled her back against his chest.

"I would never force you to do anything you weren't comfortable doing." He kissed her temple. "If you don't want to walk on the beach, we won't. Simple as that."

"You can go by yourself if you want." She inhaled deeply, putting her hands over his. "I don't want to ruin your fun."

He grunted. "My fun is going back to bed and crawling between your legs."

"Thank goodness." She turned in his arms and looked up into his face. "Because that's what I like to do, too."

He pulled her into the bedroom.

He had many reasons to push her out of her comfort zone, and every single one was selfish. But there was only one good reason why he wouldn't force her to do anything she wasn't comfortable doing. And that was because she meant more to him than the fucking ocean.

No matter how she lived her life or what she could and couldn't do, he admired her for the strong woman she'd become. Not enjoying the ocean when it was literally out her back door wasn't a make-it-or-break-all deal for him.

He wanted her only to do the things that made her happy. So damn happy, not the fake shit she put out there for other people to see.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her breathing deepened, and he held her tighter. This is what he wanted. The woman who was open and free with herself toward him.

If she could put up with him spending all his free time with Havlin Motorcycle Club, then she was a special fucking woman.

She arched against him, pressing her breasts against his chest. He palmed the back of her head, keeping her close. The silky strands of her hair entwined between his fingers.

Daisy wiggled out of her shorts and then attacked his belt. She was getting good at unhooking the buckle from the leather now.

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