Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
I kiss the back of her neck, my lips lingering on her soft skin. The fear, the anger, the rules—they’re all gone. There’s just this. There’s just us. And for the first time in years, I’m at peace.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SERENITY
An alarm sounds somewhere in the room, and the first thing I notice isn’t the light, though the desert sun is already aggressive, slicing through the gaps in Diesel’s heavy blackout curtains. It’s the weight. A heavy, solid heat is draped over my waist, pinning me to a mattress that feels like it was engineered by people who understand the true meaning of luxury. My back is pressed against a chest so broad it feels like a wall, and the rhythmic huff of breath against the nape of my neck is steady, warm, and terrifyingly familiar.
Reality hits me with the force of a Vegas heatwave. We didn’t just kiss. We didn’t just cross a line. We dove over it, set it on fire, and danced in the ashes. I’m in Diesel Walsh’s bed.
Panic, sharp and cold, prickles at my skin, but I manage to swallow it down. I should regret it, but I don’t. Now, I just have to face the consequences of my actions.
I try to shift, my movements small and cautious, but the arm around me tightens instinctively. He leans over to turn off the alarm, then he pulls me closer, tucking my head under his chin. The intoxicating scent of him surrounds me like a physical barrier. It’s a scent that usually makes me feel safe, but right now, worry is starting to cut through me. Alana is going to kill me. She’s going to exhume my body just to kill me again for sleeping with her older brother.
"Stop thinking so loud," a low, gravelly voice rumbles against my ear. His breath hitches, then smooths out as he stirs. "It’s too early for whatever crisis you’re having, sweetness."
I freeze, my heart doing a frantic little jig against my ribs. "I’m not having a crisis. I’m just… assessing the situation."
"Assessing?" Diesel pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and heavy with sleep. His hair is a wild mess of dark curls, and his jaw is shadowed with enough stubble to be dangerous. He looks like a man who just spent the night doing exactly what we did, and he doesn’t look a bit sorry about it. "That’s your accounting brain talking. You’re trying to find a way to make the numbers balance, aren’t you?"
"The numbers don’t balance, Diesel," I whisper, my voice trembling more than I want it to. "I’m Alana’s best friend. You’re her brother. You’re the guy who’s supposed to be keeping me safe, not… this. What if we ruined everything?"
Diesel’s expression shifts. The sleepiness vanishes, replaced by a devastatingly focused intensity. He shifts onto his elbow, hovering over me, his tattoos a dark map across his shoulders in the dim light. He reaches out, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a gentleness that makes my breath catch.
"We haven’t ruined anything," he says, his voice dropping into that deep, possessive register that makes my toes curl. "You think this was an accident? You think I just tripped and fell into bed with you?" Diesel lets out a short, dry laugh. “Serenity, I’ve been fighting my feelings for you for as long as I can remember. I’ve spent years trying to convince myself you were just a kid, just my sister’s annoying friend. And every time you looked at me with that sassy little smirk, I had to walk away before I acted on my feelings."
I stare at him, my mouth slightly agape. "You’ve… wanted me for years?"
"Years," he repeats, his eyes searching mine. “And years." He kisses my shoulder. “And motherfucking years.”
Relief, warm and thick as honey, washes through me, drowning out the panic. I reach up, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. "I’ve been half in love with you forever."
"Half in love?" He smirks, and the tension in the room changes, shifting from heavy to electric. "Only half? We’re going to have to work on those percentages, Ren."
He leans down, his mouth hovering just inches from mine. The air between us is charged, the kind of heat that doesn't just warm you—it burns. When he kisses me, it’s not the desperate, frantic collision of last night. This is slow. Deliberate. It’s a claim.
He moves with a graceful, heavy confidence, his hands exploring my body as if he’s trying to memorize every curve. He treats me like I’m something fragile and priceless, even though I’ve always prided myself on being made of steel. "You’re so beautiful," he mutters against my skin, his lips trailing down my throat to the swell of my breast. "Mine. Do you hear me, Serenity? You’re mine now."