Page 38 of Diesel

His arm tightened around me. “I did need it. Needed to know you’d fight for me.”

“Always.” The promise came easily. “Nobody talks about you like that. Not while I’m around.”

“My little scrapper.” Affection colored his tone. “Gonna get yourself in trouble one of these days.”

“You have my back.”

“Without a doubt.”

My eyes started to drift closed, exhaustion from the adrenaline crash and the sex pulling me under. But something nagged at me, keeping me from fully relaxing into sleep.

“Diesel?”

“Hmm?”

“Gerald was wrong. About you. About everything.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean—” The words tangled in my throat. “You’re good and kind, even when people don’t deserve it. And you showed up tonight because I wanted to paint, even though you had to know it would be terrible. That matters.”

His hand found the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair. “You matter. Everything else is just noise.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, unexpected and overwhelming. Nobody had ever said something like that to me before. Nobody had ever made me feel like I was the important part, like everything else really was just background noise.

I let myself sink into the warmth of him. Into the safety of his arms and the knowledge that I’d found something rare. Something worth defending, worth fighting for, worth keeping.

Chapter Seven

Ollie

Water drummed against shower tiles, steam thickening until the mirror fogged over completely. A deep, satisfying ache had settled into my shoulders and thighs from last night. The hot water washed away the dried sweat and the musky scent of sex that still clung to my skin.

Diesel had left hours ago with a kiss at the door and a promise to call. The house felt empty without him, the silence too loud. I was already counting the hours until I could see him again.

Shutting off the water, I grabbed a towel and dried off quickly. The bite mark on my shoulder caught my attention in the mirror as I wiped away condensation. Dark purple bruising surrounded the clear impression of teeth. The sight of it sent heat rushing through me, memories of last night flooding back in vivid detail.

Mate. The mark proclaimed it. Diesel had claimed me, branded me, and the primitive part of my brain that should’ve been concerned about explaining this to anyone was instead preening with satisfaction.

I ran my fingers lightly over the tender skin, tracing each indentation. The soreness was a grounding thing, a realness that said last night happened. Diesel happened. What was between us was strong enough to leave a mark.

From the bedroom, “Funkytown” started blaring. Edith’s ringtone. I’d assigned it months ago after one of her rants about how ringtones used to sound like phones, not discos.

The irony amused me.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I padded into the bedroom and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

“Hi, Edith.”

“Ollie! Good morning, dear. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Her voice came through crisp and clear, like she was standing right next to me instead of calling from across town.

“Not at all. What’s up?”

“Well, I was going through my coupon binder this morning—you know I reorganize every Sunday—and I found the most wonderful coupon. For towing services. Thirty percent off. Isn’t that fortuitous?”

“Thanks, Edith. That’s really thoughtful.”

“Make sure you use it before it expires. These companies are always trying to cheat people with their expiration dates, but if you’re firm with them, they usually honor it anyway.” She paused, and I heard papers rustling in the background. “Technology has made everything worse, you know. In my day, we didn’t need computers to tell us when a coupon was valid. We just used common sense.”