Page 25 of Covert (Ruthless Love #2)

Chapter twenty-two

Diesel

I 'm growing impatient with my girl. I've asked her out several times, only for her to come up with an excuse. And I know it's an excuse. And I know why she's avoiding me.

I just don't have to like it.

Our night together was amazing, but she went distant after that. She's cautious with her heart, and I understand that, but if she'd give me the chance, I could prove to her that we're worth it.

She's amazing - smart, sweet, caring, beautiful, sexy.

The boys texted me last week that someone had broken into her apartment, so they moved her in with them.

If I'm being honest, I'm a little jealous of how much time they get with her.

They're with her all day, every day. I don't mind sharing her, as long as the guys put her needs first. And that Maddox guy can be a real asshole.

A part of me worries I'm being edged out. I want to know how she's feeling after having her privacy violated. I want to know where they live now. I want to know she's okay.

But on another, more selfish level, I want to know that we're okay. That I didn't screw this up by bedding her before proving to her that I'm worth it. She hasn't totally shut me off, but she's definitely taken a step back.

She's still convinced this has to be temporary, so she's guarding her heart. I get it, I really do, but nerves have made my stomach uneasy .

After church, I drive to the shop. They're about to close, so I'm hoping to get a few minutes with her. If only to gauge that I didn't completely fuck it up.

She was on board after the rally but withdrew almost immediately. I know I'd been eager. Maybe I should have made her wait, played hard to get?

So, I kick down the kickstand and turn my bike off, reaching into the saddlebag to pull out my gift for her.

I turn it over in my hand, second-guessing the entire thing.

Is she going to think it's lame? It's recycled trash.

I'd get her something better if I had the money.

I shake my head. She told me that it doesn't matter to her, so I'm going to trust her.

She's wiping down the glass display when the chime dings and announces my arrival. The sign on the door says "closed," and she opens her mouth to tell me as much, but then she sees me. A small, shy smile spreads across her face as her eyes drop.

Okay. We're going to be okay.

My girl still wants me.

With all the cocky swagger of someone who didn't earn it, I march up to her, slide behind the counter, wrap my arm around her waist, and drop a kiss to her cheek.

"Hey, baby girl," I say, my voice low and just for her.

She rolls her eyes playfully. She seems uncomfortable with attention, but she doesn't realize she's the fucking sun in my solar system, and I can't not give her attention.

"I made you something," I say quickly, afraid that I'm going to chicken out and not give it to her .

I take one of her hands in mine. Her hands are small, her fingers tiny and delicate, so I hope I got the size right.

I slide the antique spoon ring onto her forefinger and breathe a tiny sigh of relief that it fits.

She thumbs it immediately and looks at it.

"You made this?" Wide eyes look up at me in shock.

I lift a shoulder in a shrug.

"Yeah. It was one of the other guy's hyperfixations for a hot minute, so I figured I'd learn, too. Is it okay?" Okay, maybe some of my nerves were still alive.

I expect a smile, a hug, or a 'yeah, it's great', even if it's fake. What I don't expect is her lower lip to wobble. Oh, God. Is she about to cry?

Before I can ask her what's wrong, she slams her face into my chest and wraps her arms around my lower back.

I hold her head to my chest tenderly and just wait for whatever is happening to pass.

I don't know what's happening. But I do know I'll be whatever my girl needs me to be in any given moment on any day.

She pulls back and swipes at her eyes, before big, brown, watery eyes find mine.

"No one's ever made anything for me before."

Ah, Christ. That made me emotional. This poor, sweet woman. How had she been so neglected? No one ever made her a daisy chain crown? A hand-written card? Anything?

Pride suddenly fills my chest where self-doubt sat before. "I went to three different antique shops before I found the right spoon. See this here? "

I hold up her hand and point to a detail on the spoon's handle. "There's a little blemish in the scallop there because it's hand-carved and the maker's hand slipped." Her eyes narrow in on the detail as a small gasp escapes her lips.

"It's literally one of a kind, and when the antique dealer told me, I knew it was the one for you."

Her eyes find mine again, and the depth of emotion in them is humbling. She doesn't share a lot about her past, or even about herself, but she wears her heart on her sleeve, and I'd gladly spend the rest of my life making her happy.

"You didn't have to do this," she says, her voice small and low.

"I know. But I wanted to." I catch her eyes with mine again. "You're special. And you're important to me." Her lower lip starts to wobble again.

"Can I take you for a ride. There's a place I've been meaning to take you," I suggest, hurriedly, ready to distract her from crying again.

She looks to the back where the other guys are wiping down their stations and preparing to leave.

"Hey guys, do you mind if Diesel takes me home tonight?"

Three sets of eyes studied us. But no one complained.

"Let me get my stuff," she says quietly, as she walks to the small closet, slips her shoes on, and grabs her purse.

She jogged behind me to my bike and let out a little squeal of joy as I mounted, turned over the engine, and she hopped on behind me.

Forty-five minutes of warm summer air, darkness punctuated by streetlamps and then starlight, and the sweetest fucking arms around me, and I roll us into a small, manmade beach in Maryland .

Technically, it's closed because it's nighttime, and technically, we're supposed to pay to get in here, but I maneuver us up over the curb and around the gate blocking the main entrance. Because technically, I don't give a shit.

I kick my kickstand back down, cut the engine, and then help her off my bike. It's the middle of the night, and I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here after sundown, but fuck it. I'm here to show my girl that I'm worth it.

I pull a rough blanket from my other saddle back and loop it around one arm, before extending the other to Nikki.

Silently, I walk us onto the sand. Both she and I pause to kick off our shoes before we walk towards the water again. It's not an ocean beach, but it's enough that it's quiet and peaceful. Tiny tidal waves hit the shore, and the Chesapeake Bay Bridge looms in the distance.

I take a moment, her hand in mine, to simply exist. I breathe deep, the brackish water, the cool night air, and the beautiful woman next to me.

And then I bring up what I really want from her. "You pulled away," I say simply, trying to keep my voice calm and steady and not demanding or accusatory.

I can feel her shoulders slump next to me.

"Is that why you brought me out here?"

I turn to face her and tug her to face me. "Did I fuck up by rushing things? Should I have taken things slower with you?"

Her face tips down, but I bring my knuckles to her chin and tilt it back up. Sad brown eyes meet mine before they dart to the side.

"In the smutty books I read, I know there will always be internal and external challenges to the couple, but they don't feel so big because I know there will always be a happily-ever-after.

Life's not like that. I don't get a happily-ever-after.

I know that I don't. I get a happy-for-now.

And..." she swallows, and I can tell the next part is hard for her.

She's strong and independent. I have a feeling she doesn't open up to people a lot.

"You and the guys... you make me wish I could stay. You make me want a happily-ever-after." Her voice cracks, and a tear slides down her cheek.

I sit on the sand and pull her into my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist, and hold her as she cries.

"What would your happily-ever-after look like?" I whisper, my lips dragging against her soft hair.

She groans. "God, I don't even want to think about it."

"There's a method to my madness, I promise. Humor me?" My method is that I want her to imagine a future so beautiful, she can't help but fall so in love with the idea that she stays. That she lets us love her the way we want to; that she stops running.

She softens against my chest.

"It would be riding bikes with you guys. It would be the tattoo shop forever. It would be all four of you..." Her voice gets soft. "Forever." She's quiet for a moment, lost in thought. "It would mean kids, maybe. And a pet. I've always wanted a turtle or a dog."

I bark out a laugh. "A turtle or a dog? Baby girl, they couldn't be more different."

A small smile tugs at her lips.

"I know."

"I'll get you whatever you want."

"You don't have to do that. "

"Now, what would it take to get the people looking for you off your back?"

She thinks about it and bites her lower lip. Before she can come up with a lie, though, she replies. "Someone very important would have to die."

I nod. I understand, even if I don't fully understand. For whatever reason, someone very dangerous is looking for her and won't stop until she's found.

"Why are they looking for you?"

Her eyes shutter. "I'm his most valuable bargaining chip."

"The way I see it, between the guys and me, we can protect you. If you're at the shop, or their house, or the MC compound, no one can get to you. Isn't that dog or turtle worth the risk?"

Her eyes darken when they find mine again. "Yeah, maybe they are."

I know she's not fully in this with us, but she's also not pulling away again. We've talked about the hard thing, and maybe we're worth it. She deserves whatever future she wants.

She takes my face in her hands and brings my mouth to hers. The kiss starts slow and sweet. It feels like an apology. Her hands roam my shoulders, my biceps, my back, before threading through my long hair.

I groan into her mouth when she drags her nails gently through my scalp. My already hard cock loves it and swells against my jeans.

Need thunders through my veins like fire.

"Lie back," she says breathlessly and pushes my shoulders until I'm lying flat on my back. She reaches for my zipper, but I beat her to it .

"I can do that," I say, flicking open the button of my jeans. Her hands rest on top of mine.

"I know that, but I want to."

I'm used to being in charge in the bedroom, making sure my partners have a good time and get off as many times as they can. But for Nikki, I could learn to give up some of my control.

She slides the zipper down and tugs my jeans and boxers halfway down my thighs. I'll get sand in my ass, but it's worth it for a chance with her.

She mounts me, knees on either side of my hips, before she tugs her underwear to the side and slides down my hard cock. No prep, no foreplay, no pretense, just connection. Her eyes close on a sigh, and something deep within me understands that she needs this right now.

I grip her hips with my hands while her hands cover mine, intertwining our fingers together.

Her eyes find mine again, but they're hazy with lust. She slowly rocks her hips back and forth against me, eyes never leaving mine.

She circles her hips to the left before circling them to the right.

It's not frantic or fast. She's giving me everything.

It's not just sex, it's intimacy, vulnerability, it's her baring her soul to me and giving me everything.

So, under the night sky, with the breeze of the river cooling our skin, we rock together, silently making promises, until our orgasm builds slowly, like a storm, until we crash together, holding each other, and promises of a future.