Chapter 12
How am I supposed to sleep after that?
Grumbling, I eat the ham and cheese sandwich he made for me in angry chomps. After I’ve chased it down with the bottle of spring water that was in the bathroom, I throw back the blanket and fall face first onto the bed.
He’s corrupted me. How is it possible that my day went like it did, and I kissed a bossy, oversized stranger who happens to be best friends with my brother?
Rolling my face in the pillow, I try desperately to forget. Everything.
The way he commanded that kiss. Heavens. And the way he jerked me forward, leaving no question in my mind that he’s rough in bed.
Dammit.
I’ve never had a lover like that.
And the dirty talk?
Definitely a turn-on. That’s a whole new game for me too.
Ruining my pussy… he said that.
Oh god. My face turns hot enough to rival the asphalt in August.
Clenching my legs, I fist the pillow, groaning low in my throat.
I should masturbate.
But Diesel’s right on the other side of that door. He’d hear me for sure.
I flip onto my back, shove a pillow between my legs, and pray for sleep.
No dreams, thank you. Just pitch-black sleep.
God must have been listening because that’s exactly what I get. Until I wake up hours later and find Diesel standing in the doorway staring at me as he leans against the frame.
“That’s just creepy,” I murmur as my words turn into a yawn.
He grins. “I couldn’t resist seeing what you look like when you sleep.”
I roll over onto my stomach and cover my head with my pillow. “Go away.”
He chuckles, and the sound of bare feet on hardwood makes my pulse speed. What’s he going to do?”
Then a pleasant scent finds me under the pillow.
I pop my head out like a bird emerging from a nest. “You made coffee?”
Diesel places a mug on the night stand. “Knew you’d be a grouch until you had your first cup.”
“Har-har.” I sit up, stretching, not caring that my breasts are free and wild under his shirt. He deserves the torture. “I don’t even drink coffee before I get to work at the ranch. I save it for a break mid-morning.”
He looks skeptical as he rests his hands on his hip bones. “What planet are you from?”
I’m grinning as I sip. Mmmm. “This is really good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Figured you drank it strong.”
Now his expression is grumpy. “That is strong.”
I savor another sip. “Not in my book.”
“Come on. Breakfast is ready.” He tugs on a lock of my hair.
“Is it better than this coffee? I hope so.”
He walks out, that very fine man ass of his drawing my eyes like a magnet. God, I love a man in low-slung jeans that fit like that.
“Stare any harder and you’ll hurt something,” he calls from the kitchen.
I take my time, use the restroom, brush my teeth with a new kit from the supplies, and braid my hair. There’s a grinning woman staring back from the mirror most of the time.
When I walk into the kitchen, my feet stop on their own, so I can enjoy the view. Lordy. Diesel’s back has ink over those broad, hard muscles.
A sculptor must have made him just to torture the female species.
He plates some eggs and toast, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Jesus, woman, you’re burning a hole in my back.”
I clear my throat and take a seat at the table. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
With both of our breakfasts balanced in one hand and his coffee in the other, Diesel sits down across from me.
“Can you put a shirt on?”
He chuckles, slides a plate over to me, and commences eating like he’s up against some kind of timer.
“Did I miss the starting gun?”
He pauses with his fork in the air. “Old habits die hard. Sleep well?”
“Changing the subject?”
“Yes.”
I eat for a while, enjoying, not rushing. While I don’t want to be here, I’m not going to rush breakfast because ninety-nine percent of mornings I have chores.
Diesel’s mood darkens when he checks his phone.
“Sheriff’s calling.”
The eggs and toast were comforting and warm a moment ago, now they feel like cold rocks in my stomach.
"Drake here,” he answers, standing up from the table, the tight line of muscles along his back have turned into steel.
Diesel looks out the window as he listens and I don’t have to be a body language expert to know the news is bad.
When he speaks, it’s a sharp, low growled tone. “How in the hell?”
I’m frozen in place, barely able to breathe.
"They're destroying evidence," Diesel says, his words shaking the ground beneath me. “There was another incident after we left. A drone was capturing video of River in my truck. I’ve got the drone. LSS will be getting it analyzed and tracked.”
Now I understand why he wanted to disable and capture it last night.
I’m adding up all the ugly details when Diesel asks Sheriff Baker, "You get anything from the scene? Tire tracks, debris, anything?"
The reply on the other end of the call makes Diesel shake his head, blowing out a tense breath. "Send me all of it."
He glances at me, gaze hard, expression tight. "Affirmative. She's secure."
“Are you going to tell me?” I press my hands together under the table to keep them from shaking because if I need to be anything right now, it’s strong in Diesel’s eyes or he’ll shield me from the truth.
Leaning a hip against the counter, he considers his options.
“Please.”
He doesn’t hide the way he looks me over and it makes me wonder what he’s seeing.
Finally he meets my gaze, his expression softening. “I want to protect you from this.”