Page 17 of Axle
Not because I was about to kiss it—though that thought kept driving circles in my skull like a souped-up V8 with a stuck throttle—but because her bottom lip had a tiny split on one side, and I wanted to be sure it hadn’t gotten worse overnight. It was pink and puffy, but there was no additional swelling. I couldn’t help picturing those pretty lips wrapped around my dick.
I shoved the image away and reminded myself why I was there. Cage had asked about her, and I wanted to check on my angel so I could report back to him. That was what I told myself, anyway.
Ashlynn was sitting cross-legged in the center of my bed, a fortress of pillows behind her back and my dark gray comforter pooled at her hips. Someone else in that position would’ve looked vulnerable. Somehow, she didn’t. She looked…set. Like a driver belted into a cage, hands at ten and two, eyes on the flag. That stubborn tilt to her chin again, the one that had shown up the second she’d woken up and saw me sitting there. The one that told me, without a word, she was about to put up a fight.
It was aggravating as shit. But her sass and fire were also sexy as fuck. I liked it, which was a problem.
My gaze strayed to the closet where I’d stashed the money in my safe. Then I looked back at the gorgeous angel in front of me. I decided right then that she wouldn’t be getting it back until I knew she wouldn’t take it and run.
“Cage said to take it easy.” I let the door fall shut with a soft click and leaned my shoulders back against it for a beat. “No sparring matches with what-if ghosts. No high-impact life choices.”
She slid me a look from under those thick lashes and dropped her gaze to my forearms as though she was cataloging every vein. “And you’re here to enforce the doctor’s orders?”
“Something like that.” I pushed off the door and crossed the room slowly, like I was approaching a skittish mare.
She folded her hands in her lap and pretended she wasn’t watching me watch her. “Your tech guy really is hacking the drive?”
“He’s not ‘hacking’ it,” I corrected, because Jax hated that word unless he was using it to needle someone. “Peeling it. Like an onion booby-trapped to explode if a knife gets within three inches.”
Her nose scrunched adorably. “That sounds…um, messy.”
“Will be if anyone so much as sneezes near his rig.” I stopped at the end of the bed and hooked a thumb into a belt loop so I wouldn’t do something stupid like climb onto my mattress and kiss her. “Jax will do what he does. Until then, I want you to rest. Let me handle the noise.”
That earned me a slow sigh. She tipped her head to the side, hair spilling over one shoulder in burgundy waves with those thin neon streaks catching the morning light. The color should’ve been loud. On her, it just made the gray of her eyes look deeper. “You keep saying I should let you handle it, Mason.I appreciate the caveman routine—though it’s rather bossy—but I’m not built to sit around and let somebody else fix the mess I’m in. That’s not who I am. Especially when it puts innocent people in danger.”
There it was. The line in the sand.
Didn’t matter how sweet her voice was, or how strong her iron core was. I wasn’t letting Ashlynn anywhere near this bullshit.
“Not asking you to change who you are,” I carefully explained. Because I knew if I leaned too hard, she’d jump sideways simply out of principle. “I’m telling you how this day is going to go. Jax pulls at threads. My brothers make sure there aren’t any uninvited guests sniffing fences. I keep you breathing while the rest shakes out. And until Cage clears you for anything more than walking to the bathroom, that means your ass stays right here in this bed.”
Her mouth flattened in almost a pout. “And if I refuse to lie here like a…a damsel in distress?”
“Can’t say I hate the idea of you waiting around for me to come kiss you and save the day.” I stepped closer and planted my hand on the headboard above her shoulders, my shadow spilling over her.
She didn’t shrink under my heavy presence. She met me head-on, eyes bright, pupils gone a little wide like adrenaline was coursing in her blood.
Good girl.
“But you’re a courier, angel,” I explained. “Built to move. That’s fine. Today, though? You’re cargo. Cargo gets guarded.”
“I’m not cargo.” Her voice dipped low and fierce. It should’ve been easy to ignore. Instead, it crawled down my spine and tightened everything that chipped away at my control. “I have skin in this.”
Fucking hell.She needed to use a different analogy before I tore off her clothes and took a closer look at said skin.
Unaware of the fight between my mind and body, she continued. “I have choices, and if you won’t let me help, I’ll go. I’ll figure this out on my own.”
I leaned down until my mouth hovered at her ear. “You try to leave, and I will catch you, Ashlynn. Then I’ll carry you back and tie you to this fucking bed.”
She shivered but tried to play it off by straightening her shoulders. “You can’t be serious.”
My voice came out mild. “Willing to bet your freedom on that, baby?”
The question hung between us as the air in the room went thick and warm. I could hear our breaths, a brother’s footsteps in the hall, a soft thump from the stairwell, the distant metallic clang from the small garage next door. The world kept going. But everything in me narrowed to the way her pulse leaped in her throat.
She blinked, then spoke thoughtfully. “If I stay…if I rest…if I stop trying to fix this for five minutes—and that’s all I’m willing to promise—will you answer a question honestly?”
My eyes narrowed, but I agreed. “Yes.”
