Page 9 of Her Dirty Biker (Savage Kings MC #3)

Chapter nine

Diesel

Willow’s asleep in my bed. Her blonde hair is spread across my pillow like golden silk, lips parted, one hand curled under her cheek. Her skin still flushed.

I sit up slowly, trying not to wake her, and pull on my jeans. The sheets are twisted around her bare legs, the marks I left on her thighs fading from red to pink. I drag a hand through my hair and glance toward the window.

It’s quiet, too quiet, something’s off.

I slip out onto the front porch of the safehouse and scan the woods. No sounds, no headlights, no movement. Just that feeling in my gut, the one that’s saved my life more than once. I check the security cameras one by one. All clear.

Still, the unease lingers.

I head back inside, locking up tight. She stirs when I sit beside her on the bed.

"Diesel?"

My chest tightens at the sound of her voice.

"Yeah, angel. Just checking things. Go back to sleep."

She opens one eye. "Can’t sleep without you."

Fuck. I slide in beside her, pulling her into my arms, her bare skin molds against mine like she was made for me.

"You okay?" she whispers.

"I’m good," I lie. "Just wired."

She shifts, pressing a kiss to my chest. "Can I ask you something?"

"Course."

"Why do you keep trying to push me away?"

My whole body goes still.

She lifts her head, those soft brown eyes searching my face. "You act like you don’t want this, but I know you do. I can feel it every time you touch me."

I reach up, brushing my knuckles down her cheek. "Because I’m not good for you."

Her brow furrows. "You think I don’t know how to spot a good man?"

I almost laugh. "Willow, I’ve done shit that would make you run screaming. I don’t do relationships. I don’t play house."

She presses her body closer. "You’re doing it right now."

That pulls a real laugh out of me, short and bitter. "This is a safehouse, not a fucking fairytale. I’m trying to keep you alive, that’s it."

"Bullshit." She says it softly, but it hits like a punch to the gut.

Goddamn it. I kiss her like it’s the last time. Slow, deep, with every emotion I’ve tried to shove down since the second I saw her. She melts into me, arms wrapping tight around my neck, bare legs sliding over my thighs.

I roll her under me and let the heat build again. Fingers tangling in hair, teeth scraping skin. She gasps when I bite her neck, moans when I palm her breast, arching into my touch like she’s starving for it.

"You want it again, angel?"

She nods, wide-eyed. "Yes, please."

"Say it."

"I want you, Daddy." Every fucking time she says that word, I lose my mind.

We don’t rush. We savor. Afterward, she lies curled against my chest, and I brush kisses across her forehead.

"What happens now?" she asks.

I don’t have an answer, but I know one thing for sure. Nothing and no one will touch her. Not while I’m breathing.