That is exactly why I need space.
Because wanting him has never been the problem.
Trusting him is.
Shady takes one step closer. “Lady, I should’ve told you.”
“Yes.”
“I should’ve shut Cherry down.”
“Yes.”
“I should’ve done a lot of shit different.”
“Finally, something we agree on.”
His mouth almost twitches. It dies fast.
“I’ll fix what I broke.”
“No, you can’t.”
His eyes harden. “Watch me.”
There is the biker. Rough. Stubborn. Used to taking roads no one gives him.
My heart stupidly kicks.
I hate my heart most of all.
“You can’t fuck, fight, or smartass your way through this one,” I say.
His gaze drops to my mouth for half a breath, and heat flickers there, dark and wrong for the room, wrong for my bruises, wrong for the fact that my wrists still wear fresh bandages.
When his eyes come back to mine, they are rougher.
“I know how to do more than that.”
“Do you?”
He steps close enough that I smell smoke, blood, and him. Darling makes a warning sound, but I lift a hand without looking back. My body remembers him before my pride can stop it. His mouth at my throat. His hand closing around my hip. The rough way he says my name when he is trying not to beg.
Shady stops just outside touching distance.
“I know how to wait,” he says.
The words are quiet.
I almost believe them.
Then Disco screams, “¡Pendejo!”
The room breaks for half a second.
Magic snorts.
Even Diablo looks like he might lose a fight with a smile.