Page 22 of Axle
We’d talked before bed, sharing small pieces of ourselves in the dark, but when it was time for sleep, all I got was the steady heat of his body beside mine.
He’d told me I wasn’t a prisoner, that I could wander the compound if I wanted. I just couldn’t leave.
Then he’d handed me his extra cut like it was the most natural thing in the world, the leather heavy across my shoulders, smelling faintly of him. I was supposed to wear it when he wasn’t around. And he’d insisted on a guard for those times, too.
Mason was out meeting with a sponsor, and the prospect assigned to me lounged at the other end of the couch, boots planted on the table and his eyes flicking between the race and me. Savannah smirked when she caught me glancing his way.
“Babysitter duty’s a real honor around here,” she murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.
I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, she wasn’t wrong. The guy’s chest had puffed up when Mason told him to keep an eye on me until he got back to take over.
The door slammed hard enough to rattle the picture frames on the wall. I didn’t have to look to know it was Mason. I’d become too aware of him during our short time together.
The weight in the air shifted, thickened, and I felt the storm roll in with him before he even spoke.
His boots thudded across the floor, drawing every eye in the room. He scanned the common area once, but his gaze snaggedon me before cutting toward the prospect at the far end of the couch.
Savannah leaned back with a tiny, knowing smirk.
Mason’s expression didn’t change, but the flicker in his hazel eyes gave away his irritation.
He strode over, his hand landing heavy on the back of the couch. “Go check on something in the garage.”
The prospect shot to his feet without a word and headed for the door.
I narrowed my eyes at Mason. “Did you seriously just send away the guy you insisted had to babysit me?”
The subtle shift in the room was instant. The low conversation around the tables died, and the guys suddenly had important business staring at their phones or drinks. Savannah’s lips twitched, like she was fighting not to laugh.
A muscle in Mason’s jaw ticked, the only crack in his control.
The second the prospect disappeared, I stood and rounded the couch to glare up at him.
“Don’t get grumpy with him for doing his job when you’re the one who stuck him with me.”
Mason grumbled, “Didn’t have to park himself next to you to keep watch.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh right. I forgot…you’re the only one allowed?”
The air between us went tight. I could feel the tension coiling in him, see it in the hard set of his jaw and the way his fingers flexed at his sides.
“Yeah,” he finally growled. “I am.”
Heat curled low at the possessive gleam in his eyes. But that didn’t stop me from opening my mouth to throw something back at him. Only I never got the chance.
“Fuck it,” he muttered.
Before I could move, his arm wrapped around my waist. My feet left the floor, and a surprised yelp ripped out of me as he hauled me up and over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. Just like last time—and still as infuriating.
“Put me down!” I kicked, fists thudding against his back. You’d think I’d learned my lesson last time since it was like hitting a wall.
“Not happening, angel.”
His palm settled on the back of my thigh in a way that made my pulse do very stupid things.
Laughter broke out from somewhere behind us.
“Have fun!” Savannah sang out, her voice bright with amusement.
