Page 7 of Diesel
“No.”
“Zane! I mean it!”
He doesn’t listen. He moves. The air changes from warm to cold, the carpet becoming tarmac. I kick my legs, try to fight, but he’s like iron. Was he always this strong?
“You’re fucking crazy!” I’m pretty sure I’m shrieking, but I don’t care about causing a scene, and clearly, he doesn’t either. “You can’t just drag me around like this!”
“Hey!” A voice calls from somewhere behind us. “What are you doing, man? Let her go!”
Zane’s steps don’t falter, but his growl of irritation rumbles through my chest. “Stay out of it.”
The guy’s brave, or stupid, but I hear him say, “I’m calling the cops.”
Zane ignores him and lowers me to my feet at the side of my car. The world spins for a second and he grips my biceps until my brain recalibrates. As soon as I’m steady, I pull away from him, glaring.
His nostrils flare, but I don’t care if he’s pissed. I’m fucking furious.
“Are you out of your mind?”
He leans into my face. “My wife is trying to leave me. What do you think?”
That title used to warm me, but now it feels hollow. Borrowed. “Zane.”
“Keys.” I don’t move. “Now,Makenna.”
I close my eyes for a second, taking a beat to find calm I don’t feel.
“What are you going to do? Force me to stay with you?”
“If that’s what it takes.” He says this without a hint of irony. As if he thinks this is the best and only solution.
I drop my hands onto my hips, something ugly curling in my belly. “I’m not a toy you can pull out of the box whenever you’re bored, Zane. And I’m done playing this make-believe life with you.”
“What fucking part of this is make-believe? That part where I put my ring on your finger and gave you my name? The part where we’ve been living together as husband and wife for years? Or maybe it’s the part where I’ve come inside you hundreds of fucking times.” I should cringe at the way he says that, but the possessive edge to his words stirs something within me, something I’m trying to ignore, but my thighs clench, of course they do. My traitorous body responds to him at the worst possible time. “If you think I’m signing you away like you were nothing to me then you’re wrong.”
“But I’m not yours. Not anymore.”
The world feels like it sucks in a breath and he goes unnaturally still. I don’t know if I should speak or keep quiet. I’ve never seen him look this angry before. “Don’t youeverfucking say that again.”
Right. He’s pissed. But so am I. “I say it how it is, Zane.”
He huffs, his frustration at this argument clear. “You shouldn’t have run.”
Of course he doesn’t acknowledge what I just said. I swipe at my wet cheeks, not bothering to hide my upset.
He stares at every tear, like he’s mapping them in his mind and when he speaks this time he’s not as sharp. “Hand them over.”
He holds out his palm and when I don’t give him what he wants he hooks a finger into my belt loop, dragging me to him, and reaches into my jeans pocket. His touch gentle and every brush of him against me makes my body light up. My skin heats, my breath hitching until he digs them out. I take a second to catch my breath when he turns from me and opens the car. I hate that he’s so embedded in my skin that even pissed off I can’t stop from wanting him.
“Get in.”
“I don’t want to.” I sound like a whiny brat, but I don’t care.
He takes a measured breath. “Either you sit your arse in the car or I’ll put you in it.”
I grind my teeth, glaring at him. “I fucking hate you right now.”
But I climb into the passenger seat, folding my arms over my chest. He reaches in, tugging the seat belt around me, like I’m something precious he needs to protect. My throat clogs and neither of us speak as he clips it into place, his hand brushing over my thigh. My heart twitches and I hold my breath until his hand moves away.
