Page 24 of Fire Me Up (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #2)
Gael
I fumbled with my keys at the door to my garden-level apartment, distracted by the way Dylan pressed against my back, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below my ear.
The key finally slid home, and we tumbled inside, Dylan kicking the door shut behind us before shoving me against it, his mouth crashing into mine with desperate intensity.
I surrendered to the kiss, to his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, to the way he took control like he was afraid I might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.
“Fuck, I missed you,” Dylan growled against my mouth, his fingers already working at the buttons of my uniform shirt. “Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think straight. All I could think about was you.”
I helped him with the buttons, needing skin against skin just as badly. “I missed you too. So fucking much.”
He shoved my shirt off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, then grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the living room. He stopped abruptly, and I followed his gaze to the stacks of boxes lined against the wall, the half-empty bookshelf, the bare spaces where my photos had hung.
“So you’re really moving.” He spun, looking at the space with a frown. “When?”
I grimaced, suddenly aware of how this must look—like I was already one foot out the door.
“Soon. A couple of weeks. Might have to put stuff in storage and stay with my sisters, though. I’m still looking for a place.
Didn’t realize the Denver rental market sucked so bad, but hopefully I’ll find something soon. ”
Dylan’s eyes scanned the boxes, lingering on one labeled “Bedroom” in my messy handwriting. His shoulders tensed, and I felt the fragile connection between us starting to fray again.
“It’s okay,” I added quickly, trying to keep my tone light even as my voice threatened to break.
“I’m excited to be closer to my sisters, and, you know.
Give you some time to figure out if I’m the right guy for you.
I mean, I’m sure you have a lot of options.
Hard to find a guy with your level of skill at cat care. ”
The words hung in the air between us, more vulnerable than I’d intended. Dylan turned back to me, his eyes searching my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
“Come here,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled me into a tight hug.
I sat and hauled him into my lap, desperate to regain the momentum we’d lost. But instead of kissing me again, Dylan just stared down at me, his forehead coming to rest against mine.
Something wet touched my cheek, and it took me a moment to realize he was crying—silent tears tracking down his face.
“Dylan?” I cupped his face in my hands, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head slightly, his hands gripping my waist like I was a lifeline. “Everyone leaves,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Everyone always fucking leaves. I’m too much, too intense, too chaotic.”
I held him closer, my heart breaking as he finally let me see the wounds he’d been hiding.
“My ex said living with me was exhausting,” Dylan continued, the words tumbling out between shaky breaths. “That my ADHD made me impossible to be with long-term. That normal people need breaks from... from people like me.”
“Fuck normal people,” I said fiercely, wiping his tears with my thumbs. “I love you. All of you.”
I kissed his forehead, his temples, the bridge of his nose, the salt-tracks on his cheeks. I whispered “I love you” against each spot my lips touched, over and over until I felt him start to believe it, until his breathing steadied and his grip on my waist relaxed.
“I love how your mind works,” I murmured against his lips. “I love your intensity. I love watching you tear apart an engine and put it back together better than before. I love how you talk too fast when you’re excited and forget what you were saying halfway through a sentence.”
Dylan’s hands slid up my back, pulling me impossibly closer. “I love you too,” he whispered, the words sounding like they were torn from somewhere deep inside him. “Fuck, Gael, I love you so much it terrifies me. I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know what to do with it.”
I smiled against his mouth. “You could start by letting me love you.”
He pulled back, eyes wide and serious. “You might not want that. I’m kind of obsessed with you.”
I grinned up at him. “How obsessed?”
“Obsessed enough that I’m currently thinking you’d better not find any other fucking apartment than my loft in Denver,” Dylan said, his voice growing stronger. “That’s the only place you’re allowed to live.”
I raised an eyebrow, smirking despite the tears still clinging to my lashes. “Allowed?”
Dylan stuck his tongue out, a flash of his usual playfulness returning.
“You told me you can handle my intensity. So this is what you’ve unleashed.
The casual, relaxed thing where I pretended I didn’t mind if we saw each other every few days?
That was all lies. The real me needs you in my fucking bed every goddamn day of the week.
I need to wake up with you. I need you to be there when I get home.
On your hands and knees in my bed, back arched all pretty the way you do. ”
“I’m a firefighter,” I said, blushing bright red at the vivid image he was painting. “My schedule may not always allow that?”
“Good thing I make my own schedule. And with you in my bed, I’ll definitely be making any adjustments that are required.”
“So, to be clear, you asking me to move in with you? After like a month and a half.”
“Yep. Though… I’m not sure I’d use the word asking. I prefer… commanding. Scared yet?”
I grinned up at him, pure joy bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest. I kissed him again, pouring everything I felt into it—all the love, the relief, the certainty that this was exactly where I belonged.
“Not at all,” I murmured against his lips. “I fucking love it. I love you.”
A loud meow interrupted us. We both turned to see Bacon emerging from the bedroom, tail held high like he was inspecting our reconciliation and finding it acceptable. He jumped onto the couch beside us, butting his head against Dylan’s arm.
“Does your place allows cats?” I asked.
Dylan rolled his eyes, but his hand automatically moved to scratch behind Bacon’s ears. “I’d never live in a place that didn’t allow cats. If my place doesn’t allow cats, I’m moving.”
“I knew you loved Bacon!”
“I don’t love Bacon,” Dylan grumped, even as he continued to pet my cat, who was now purring loudly against his side. “I love you.”
The simple declaration hit me with the force of a physical blow. I’d waited so long to hear those words, had started to believe I never would. Now that they were out in the open, I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
“Say it again,” I whispered.
Dylan’s expression softened, his eyes meeting mine with a certainty that took my breath away. “I love you, Gael Sanchez. Only you. Always you.”
Bacon chose that minute to butt in, slamming his head against Dylan’s arm. I leaned in close and nuzzled Dylan’s nose. “And Bacon.”
He scruffed the cat’s ears. “Fine. Bacon is… tolerable.”
“Tolerable? Bacon is awesome and super cute.”
“Very… unique looking.”
“The best cat on Earth?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far
Laughing, I kissed him again, slow and deep, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him beneath me. We had so much to figure out—the move, my new job, merging our lives together. But none of that mattered right now.
All that mattered was this—Dylan in my arms, Bacon purring beside us, and the knowledge that I’d found my home, not in Denver or Colorado Springs, but in the heart of the purple-haired motorcycle mechanic who loved me as completely as I loved him.