Page 17 of Diesel
Her pulse pounded in her throat.“No.What I deserve is a life I choose for myself.Not one dictated by someone who’s afraid of who I really am,” she said.
His jaw clenched.“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“No,” she said with venom.“You came here, thinking you could win me back.”
She didn’t see Diesel arrive, but she felt him.He was like a thunderhead rolling in just before a storm.The air changed, charged and heavy, the hairs on the back of her neck rising a split second before his voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“You need to step back, man.Now,” Diesel said, low and lethal.
Brandon turned, scoffing.“And who the hell are you?”
He didn’t get an answer.He didn’t need one.Diesel stepped forward, every line of his body coiled and simmering with control barely held in check.
His shoulders blocked out the rising sun, jaw clenched tight, fists flexing at his sides like he was restraining an instinct deeper than words.Sophie’s breath caught.
He was fury and protection wrapped in rough denim and leather, and he planted himself between her and Brandon like a goddamn shield.
Brandon rolled his eyes.“Let me guess.Club muscle?What, you think you’re her knight in shining leather?”
Diesel didn’t flinch, he simply moved.It was fast.Brutal.Beautiful.
Diesel landed one clean and punishing punch square on Brandon’s jaw.The crack of impact echoed down the quiet street.Her ex folded like a house of cards, groaning as he collapsed to the sidewalk in a stunned heap.
“Diesel!”Sophie gasped, darting forward.
Diesel, however, didn’t look at her.Diesel stood over Brandon, solid, immovable, and dangerous.His chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths, the only sign that he hadn’t turned to stone.His eyes were steel, flat, cold, and unrelenting.
Every line of his body screamed restraint barely held in check.He didn’t just look ready to fight, he looked made for it.And despite everything, a sharp, treacherous part of Sophie, the part still trembling from adrenaline, liked it.Because Brandon deserved it.
God, she’d imagined punching that smug face more times than she could count.All the nights he made her feel like she was asking for too much.Like her dreams were childish.Like she was the problem.He never hit her, no, but he knew exactly where to aim his words, his indifference, his careless superiority.
So yeah, a petty part of her cheered when he hit the ground.But the part that still believed in control, in decency, in not letting things spiral out of hand, that part of her knew this had to stop before it went further.Before Diesel crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.
She moved quickly, her fingers wrapping around Diesel’s forearm, which felt hot and hard beneath her touch, his skin buzzing like live wire.
“Stop.Please.”Her voice came softer than she meant, more plea than command.
That broke something.The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction, and he finally looked at her.The rage faded, but only just.What remained was something worse.Something more dangerous.Possession.
He didn’t say a word as Brandon staggered to his feet and stumbled off without another challenge.Just a groan and a hand to his jaw.Sophie turned back to Diesel, her pulse roaring in her ears.
“You didn’t have to hit him,” she told Diesel.
“I did,” he said, voice still edged in gravel.
“You could’ve scared him off without punching him,” she pointed out.
“He put his hands too damn close to you,” he said with a growl and that sound sent a shiver down her spine.
Her breath stilled.“You were watching?”
His jaw ticked.“I’m always watching,” he murmured, softer now.“That’s the damn problem.”
They stood inches apart, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the sweat and leather and the faint whiff of her own flowers clinging to his clothes.
“You’re not my bodyguard,” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.
“No.”His eyes dropped to her mouth, his voice a low growl.“But I wish I was.”
