Page 18 of Covert
Me: Thanking of you
His response is immediate.
Diesel: Always thinking of you. When can I see you again?
I bite my lip nervously. I want to see him again, but I can't bring him to my apartment. My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I debate what to say.
But before I come up with an answer, he texts again.
Diesel: There's a party this weekend. Can I pick you up? Friday at eight?
I nod, even though he can't see me. That would work. He could pick me up in front of my apartment, or he could drive me to and from.
Me: Can Leana come?" I feel like she's my safety person. I'd feel better when she's there.
Diesel: Of course! Does she have her own ride, or should I bring the truck?
Leana looks over my shoulder and reads the convo, and I let her.
"Oh, I can totally drive myself, so you get the chance to be his sexy little backpack."
"But doesn't that mean..." I blanche. At least in MC romance novels, the MMC putting a woman on the back of his bike is not just aconvenient mode of transportation; it's a statement —a public claiming. I imagine us rolling up to the party with me on the back of his bike. It'd be a statement, letting everyone else know that I belong to him and not to mess with me.
I bite my thumbnail, hesitating. I like him, and he likes me, and he wants more, but this isn't just about sex. If it were just casual sex, I wouldn't be overthinking this so much. This is so much more, and the way he's acting like I'm already his, and like he's already mine.
And maybe a part of my heart wants him to be mine. To pick only me. To see only me. Do I want to be claimed? Protected?
My small, battered heart says 'yes'.
I've never belonged to anyone. I've never been publicly seen with anyone; I've never had a boyfriend, or even had more than a one-night stand. And God, I ache for it. To belong somewhere, to someone, even if it's only for a short amount of time. I've been a nomad for ten years, and I'm tired.
But can I let him in? Be vulnerable, and risk falling for him? What happens when I have to leave? Will it break my heart? Break his? It's not just mine that I have to be careful with, but his, too.
And he already seems half gone for me. He told me as much next to his cabin.
I whimper, torn apart by fear and longing and desire and exhaustion.
Before I can decide on a reply, Leana takes the phone from my hands and types a reply for me. And I let her because it's easier when it's out of my hands.
"There," she says triumphantly before lowering her voice with sympathy. "You're your own worst enemy, Nik. You're not living, you're existing. Let go every once in a while and have fun."
I know she's right, but what's the alternative?
"In fact! The boys are throwing a small party at the shop tonight and you're going."
"What?" I blanch again.
Leana doesn't take 'no' for an answer, and an hour later we're in the shop. Music with a deep base is playing over the speakers, the place smells like pot and cigarettes, and there are bottles and cans of beer everywhere. Beckett's posted up in the corner because there are a handful of other women here, and his eyes widen as they see us approach through the back door.
Axel and Maddox's eyes follow suit. Axel's grin turns downright dirty, and Maddox winces. He still doesn't like me.
I'll only stay for an hour. I'll appease Leana that I am living and not just surviving, but I don't have to chat with anyone. Or at least, that's my plan until Leana breaks into the mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of chilled champagne.
She pops it open and pours us two. I wave her off. "I don't drink."
"You drink tonight. You're among friends. I promise nothing will happen to you." Her tone is sympathetic, and I know her peer pressure is coming from a place of worry and love for me.
I bite my lip as I debate with myself.
