Page 18 of Diesel
The ache in his tone hit her square in the chest.She stared up at him, heart hammering.Something wild flickered in his eyes, something that made her feel wanted in a way that had nothing to do with protection and everything to do with need.
Then she reached up and cupped his jaw with both hands, like she couldn’t bear another second of distance between them.Sophie kissed him.It wasn’t sweet.It was feral.A clash of tongues and teeth and longing, so fierce it stole the breath from her lungs.
Diesel groaned into her mouth, his hands flying to her waist and dragging her against him like he couldn’t help himself.Like this—she—was the only thing keeping him anchored.
She gasped when her back hit the door, but he was already there, one arm braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip with a desperation that set her aflame.
She clung to him, digging her fingers into the leather of his jacket, mouth moving against his like she was starving for him, and maybe she was.Starving for something real.For him.
For once, someone wanted her, not to fix her.Not to change her.But just to keep her.He kissed like a man who’d kept his desire locked in a cage too long, and the door had just been blown wide open.
But then, just when she leaned in, ready to fall, he ripped himself away like it hurt.Breathing ragged, Diesel stepped back, hands trembling at his sides.
“Sophie—fuck,” Diesel said.
She was dizzy, lips swollen, her body thrumming with the sudden absence of his touch.
“Why’d you stop?”she asked, her voice hoarse with confusion.
He shook his head like he was trying to rattle something loose.“Because I’m not the guy you want.”
Her brows furrowed.“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m too old.Too broken.”He looked at her like she was the sun and he was already burning.“You think this ends well for someone like you?”
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” she snapped, her voice trembling, not with fear but frustration.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he rasped.“What I’ve failed to do.You don’t know what it costs to get close to me.”
“I don’t care about your past,” Sophie said recklessly.
“You should.”
His words were a wall, final and sharp, and still she could feel the kiss like it had branded her.Sophie wanted more.More of his kisses of those rough and callused hands on every single inch of her body.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she stated.
“I’m not worried about hurting you, Sophie.”He looked like it gutted him to admit it.“I’m worried about ruining you.”
The silence that fell between them was thick and loaded, like the moment before a downpour.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he turned and walked away.Anger swirled inside her.She kissed him first, sure, but he kissed her back, kissed her like she was the only woman who’d ever mattered.How dare he walk away from her?
