Page 50 of Diesel

After grabbing the remote, I checked the top drawer, finding the stash.

A groan escaped. “Granola bars are not snacks!”

This was going to be a long imprisonment.

Chapter Eleven

Ollie

Apparently, I wasn’t privy to “club business.”

Honestly, I didn’t want the details. My life was already complicated enough with my seniors, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious.

I rolled over and smiled at Diesel, who was just waking up.

His eyes blinked open, blue irises catching the early light through the blinds. Seeing him so at ease—messy hair, relaxed features—sent a flutter through me that felt deliciously dangerous.

“Morning,” he rumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Morning.” Before I even thought about it, my fingers were tracing the tattoo on his shoulder. “Sleep okay?”

“Better than okay.” He shifted toward me, pulling us close under the covers. “You stayed.”

“Where else would I go?”

He grinned. “Some people bolt after sex being dragged to a clubhouse and locked in.”

“I wasn’t locked in,” I protested with what little brainpower I had.

“You were strongly encouraged to stay put.”

I couldn’t help the small smile. “I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

Something in his gaze softened, and he leaned in for a slow, thorough kiss—tasting of sleep and entirely him. My blood raced south the moment our lips met.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless.

“I missed you yesterday,” he murmured against my mouth. “At that meeting.”

“Missed you too.” My hand drifted down his torso, following muscle and ink. “What was it about?”

“Club stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

His dodge stung more than I expected. My hand froze on his ribs as I lifted my head to look at him. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.” He resumed circling my hip with his thumb. “Some things are better off separate.”

“From me?”

He cupped my face with his free hand. “From anyone who isn’t wearing a patch. It’s not personal, Ollie. It’s just protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“From everything we deal with, so you don’t have to.”

His answer should’ve reassured me. Instead, it only raised more questions. Questions that could shift everything between us.

After a moment, I sighed. “Okay.”