Chapter 21
DIEGO
Her mood crashes when her dad disappears beyond the boarding doors. Their hug lingers. She holds on tight longer than she probably means to. I stand there, silent, the handle of his bag heavy in my hand, until the steward takes it from me.
Now, she sits beside me in the truck, staring out the window, her silence thick between us. Her fingers remain in her lap, and there is no fidgeting or sharp retorts. Nothing.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, glancing at her, my stomach twisting.
“You okay?”
No answer.
Just the steady rhythm of her breathing and the blur of the road outside.
I don’t push.
Not yet.
My phone cuts through the cab. Dom’s name flashes across the screen and catches her attention for a moment. I quickly send it to voicemail, knowing he wants to ride as we usually do. There’s no way I’m leaving her like this. Things feel uncertain between us.
Not knowing what to do and unwilling to take her home, where she’ll just ask me to leave, I head straight to my place.
It allows privacy for us to spend time together while giving her space to talk about what’s going on in her head.
With a clear goal in mind, I accelerate, something she doesn’t notice until I’m almost there.
“This isn’t the way back to my place?”
“I wanted to show you my place.”
She doesn’t argue but shifts in her seat, pulling her jacket tighter around her. I take that as permission to keep going.
The truck slows as I pull into the underground garage of my building, parking in the reserved spot next to my bike. We ride the elevator in silence, and when the doors slide open, I lead her to my loft, my sanctuary. The one I’ve had since my hard pivot from the accident.
The industrial design suits me. Exposed brick walls and tall windows wrap around the corner unit, allowing the cool gray light of the city to enter.
One wall holds shelves cluttered with racing helmets, photos from MotoGP circuits, and several battered trophies that I haven’t bothered to polish in ages.
The opposite wall is bare, save for a barely used pool table. The twins got me in trouble for throwing water balloons off the balcony, so they’re not allowed over anymore.
Her steps slow when she sees the area dedicated to racing memorabilia. Her eyes scan the helmets, the old photos of me mid-race, the worn-out leather of my racing jacket slung over a hook. She doesn’t touch anything, just looks, her arms crossing over her chest.
“Didn’t think I’d be the type to hang on to the past?”
I keep my voice light, leaning against the kitchen counter. She doesn’t answer, her gaze dwelling on a framed photo of me on the podium, holding a trophy high with my crew around me, all smiles.
The Diego before everything fell apart.
“Everyone needs a wall of fame to remember what they lost.”
That lands harder than it should. I clear my throat, not liking how it rearranges the emotions in my chest. I push off the counter and walk over to stand beside her. For a moment, neither of us says anything.
“Come on,” I murmur, brushing her hand with mine, the slightest invitation. “There’s something I want to show you.”
She lets me lead her through the loft, past the open living space, to the wall of windows.
I slide open the heavy glass door leading to the balcony.
The wind’s sharp off the harbor, but the view is worth it.
The city stretches out, the sun glittering off the water.
She steps out slowly, the cool air brushing her face and blowing her long hair into the wind.
Her shoulders seem to relax just a little.
“It’s… beautiful.”
I lean on the railing beside her.
“Helps me breathe when my head gets too full.”
Without thinking, I gently tug her hand and guide her to the outdoor couch. She sinks into it, and I sit close enough that our knees brush.
“Thanks for bringing me here, Diego. It’s lovely.”
I shrug, moving my hand to rest on her upper thigh.
“Didn’t want to leave you alone with your thoughts. Not today.”
She doesn’t pull away, choosing to drape her legs across my thighs while I warm her against the biting wind. She snuggles into my chest, and it’s the best damn feeling in the world. For the first time in a while, I feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m exactly where I should be.
“I feel guilty about him leaving, about wanting him to stay, guilty that classes seem more important than me. But then I didn’t spend time with him, so I feel guilty about that.”
That last point stings a bit.
She’s opening up, letting down her walls. I’m practically running across the threshold to ensure I stay on the same side as her. I tighten my arm around her shoulders, letting my fingers trace light circles along her elbow to show my support.
“You’re allowed to feel all of that, you know. None of it makes you a bad daughter. It just makes you human.”
She snorts, not fully believing me.
“I’m an only child, Iz. I know the burden you’re bearing to an extent.
My parents are younger than your dad and have lots of help on the ranch and in the businesses, but you don’t.
That’s hard, especially when your dad is as independent as you are.
Now I know where you get your stubbornness from,” I tease with a squeeze of her body.
She lets out a hollow chuckle, then rests her head on my shoulder.
“Papà says I got it from my mother. But you might be right. I might get it from him.”
I’d never admit this, but he’s much more easygoing than she is. I press my lips to the top of her head. “As I see it, all you can do is be there for him whenever he needs it. He’s pretty active still, so I know this fall worried you, but he’s got a lot of life yet to live.”
She doesn’t reply, still lost in that head of hers, but at least I’m here with her. Her face lifts. Her breath is warm against my jaw. I catch the shimmer of hesitation in her eyes.
Then she closes the space, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss, which turns urgent as she demands more. I’m already lost to her, yet I’m questioning if we should be doing this with how low she feels. I’d be a shitty liar if I said I don’t want her in my bed for the rest of the day.
I shift, tightening my arm around her waist, guiding her so she’s straddling my lap. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I swear the world tilts. Every inch of her pressed to me is grounding and electrifying. Breathless, she pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against mine.
Neither of us speaks.
We don’t need to.
With the city and other apartment windows around us, it feels too exposed, too open. I ease her off my lap, standing and pulling her hand into mine.
“Come on.” My voice is rougher than intended. “Let’s go inside.”
I lead her toward the bedroom, stripping as we go, and my cock couldn’t be harder. All I need right now is privacy, space, and her.
With the last stitch of clothing coming off, I grab her by the waist, turn her around, and plan on fucking her roughly from behind. This first fuck is to calm both of us and implant the idea of spending the day in my bed, nipping, sucking, and fucking each other.
“Diego.”
My fingers curl around her ribcage, expanding with her breath while my lips brush kisses across her shoulder and into her neck.
Goosebumps appear on her skin as she tilts her head, giving me more access to her flesh.
Her right hand reaches back, touching my outer thigh as if needing a connection, needing to be tethered to the here and now, or else she’ll be adrift.
“I don’t . . . I need to see you.”
The uncertainty in her voice immediately jolts my head away from her skin, and my plans to bend her over the bed evaporate. I loosen my grip on her waist, and she immediately takes advantage by turning in my arms.
“What’s wrong, Iz? If you don’t want to . . .”
My gaze searches her beautiful face, trying to surmise what’s going on in that head of hers.
“No, I do. But face to face.”
There is a flash of something I don’t quite catch before she reaches for me, curling her body into mine in the most tender way. It has me freezing for a second, my arms slow to react until she leans her head into my chest to hug me.
Shit
What I mistook for horniness on both our parts is actually a need for closeness on her part. She doesn’t want or need a fast fuck to satiate her desires. She needs slow and lingering. Something I’m more than willing to do.
Savor her on a lazy Sunday.
Kokami.
My hand collects her chin, raising it to meet my lips. Her eyes close quickly, but mine stay open to monitor any signs that I have made a mistake with this new assessment. When she moans against my lips and opens her mouth for more, I know she’s good again.
My kiss is slow, searching, and tender. My hand releases her chin, slipping to her throat and tightening enough to feel her pulse throb against my palm. Her hands roam my chest, setting my skin on fire with lust for her. I gently guide her backward until her legs hit the bed.
Her lips break free from mine when she lowers herself to lie on the comforter, looking stunning with her long curls splayed out and her lips swollen. When she motions for me, I’m practically on top of her in a second.
“This is what I want.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, and I can feel the desire radiating off her. My hard cock digs into her body. My balls are heavy and full of cum, ready to unload.
“I’ll keep you here all damn day if I can, Iz.”
I trail soft kisses across her jawline and down her neck. She sighs a contented sound that resonates through me. My hands roam over her body, exploring every curve, memorizing the way she fits against me.
“Then do it.”
The challenge in her words is a confirmation in my ears. She wants to stay locked away with me in my place, which makes my heart soar.