Page 66 of Diesel
She cuts a glance over her shoulder, her face soft. A thousand unspoken words in that look.
“I’m not going anywhere, Zane.”
She doesn’t understand. She can’t feel the panic rising inside me at the thought of being without her. Can’t feel the fires I’m already lighting at the thought of losing her. I kiss that dip between her hips and for the first time in years, I’m scared of losing everything.
TWENTY-ONE
MAKENNA
I’m warm.That’s the first thing I notice as I peel my eyes open. The room comes into focus slowly, colours first, then morphing into shapes. For a second, I don’t know where I am, but it doesn’t matter.
I know I’m safe.
There’s heat molded along my spine like a second skin, and an arm draped over my hips like an iron band. Zane’s hot breath caresses over the back of my neck in a steady rhythm as he gently snores behind me. It took us both forever to fall asleep last night. He was wired, his usual stillness coiled into twitchy restlessness, even after he fucked me like he was possessed by the ghosts of whatever horrors he fought.
I don’t move, letting his weight hold back the panic swirling inside me. That familiar churning nausea attacks my stomach. I’m a ball of anxiety, wrapped in fear.
He’s still. We’re both alive, and everything else we’ll figure out.
We’ve weathered storms before, and we’ll get through this one too.
I rest my hand over his and he pulls me closer to him.
“You’re thinking too hard, firefly,” he says, his voice thick with sleep.
“I can’t help it.” His nose nuzzles into my neck, like he’s trying to lose himself inside me. “Did you sleep okay?”
He hums low in his throat. “I always sleep better when I have you in my arms.”
I smile, my belly fluttering instead of rolling, as I pull his arm tighter around me. “I love you.”
He kisses my bare shoulder with a reverence that clogs my throat. Every touch he gives me always feels sacred, but this morning it feels different. More tender, like he’s scared he might never get to touch me again.
I turn to face him, shuffling in the bed so awkwardly it makes his lips twitch. “Graceful,” he murmurs.
The snort I make is indelicate, but it gets a proper smile from him that makes my chest feel warm. “You married me,” I accuse.
He brushes my tangled hair from my face, and his gaze drags over me like I’m a sin he wants to commit again. I read a thousand things in his expression before he gives me the words. “I’d marry you a hundred times over.”
I kiss him, my lips a whisper of a promise over his. We nearly lost each other, not to war or violence, but to silence and misunderstanding.How did I think I could ever let him go?
The clubhouse stirs, motion and the dull rumble of voices outside the door. I snuggle into his chest, not ready to move yet or give him up to them.
“Do we have to get up?”
His smile fades. “No.” He rubs circles on my spine, as if it’s a habit he can’t stop. “We can stay in bed all day, fucking.”
I shove his chest lightly. “You fucked me hard enough last night, Zane.”
His fingers still and he searches my expression, like he can see the answer to whatever question is forming in his mind written there. He doesn’t find it, because he says in a jagged rasp, “Did I hurt you?”
Oh, Zane.My chest cracks open.
“No. Never.” I stroke a hand over his cheek, hoping my touch will be enough to assure him. “I’m good, babe. I promise.”
The stare lingers, like he’s bracing for a blow that’s not going to come. “I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says finally.
“I know.” More voices sound, closer this time. Gruff, loud, a reminder of the loaded barrel we’re staring down.
