Chapter 83 83
DIESEL POV
The room went dead quiet the second she said it.
“Stay.”
I looked at her. She wasn’t looking back anymore. Her eyes were glued to her lap, staring hard at the blanket like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. Her fingers were fidgeting—twisting together, letting go, then twisting again. Her shoulders were pulled in tight and her cheeks were going pink. It was that shy, guilty look girls get when they think they’ve just made a fool of themselves. She was avoiding my face completely, acting like if she didn’t see me, maybe I’d forget she spoke.
And damn it… she looked cute doing it.
The way she was already beating herself up inside her head, shrinking smaller by the second. It was almost funny how someone who’d stared down thugs and run from debt collectors for years could suddenly look this nervous over four little letters.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
“At least talk and act like you mean it,” I said, keeping my voice low so it didn’t scare her more.
Her fingers froze mid-twist. She flicked her eyes up to me for half a second, then right back down again.
I let the door close behind me—a soft click—and walked over. Instead of sitting on the bed, I dropped into the big leather couch in the corner, the one that creaks every time I move. I kicked my boots up on the edge of the crate stack, leaned my head back against the wall, and closed my eyes.
“I’ll be here,” I said.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
We both knew it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t have to thank me for not walking out. I liked the idea of being here more than she knew.
The room stayed quiet after that. Just her breathing and the faint hum of the clubhouse settling down downstairs. I kept my eyes closed, pretending to rest, but I could feel her watching me. I felt the mattress shift a little when she moved. I heard the blanket rustle.
Then the bed creaked again—louder this time. I cracked one eye open. She was sitting up now, the blanket pooled around her waist, hugging her knees to her chest. Her hair was messy from tossing on the pillow. She looked small and restless.
“You said you want to shower,” I said with my eyes closed, reminding her.
“Oooh… yes.” She cleared her throat, sounding like she’d completely forgotten. “I… um… I should probably go shower now.”
I heard her scramble up and rush to the bathroom. When the door shut, I caught the faint thud of her leaning her back against it. I could already picture her letting out a deep breath, maybe regretting what she said or maybe giggling to herself. Whatever the case, I didn't care. I was just glad to stay.
A small smile tugged at my mouth; I couldn't help it. Then the shower turned on. I leaned back and relaxed, the smile still hanging on my face. I couldn't even explain why I was like this—until an image of Daisy hit me and the smile faded instantly.
I opened my eyes and looked toward the bathroom. I suddenly remember wasn't wearing my shirt anymore. I remembered that ugly, shapeless gown she’d been wearing earlier. It looked like something a hospital would hand out, or maybe a nun. No shape, no color, nothing. It swallowed her whole and made her look even smaller than she already was.
I hated it on her.
First thought: where the hell did she even find that thing?
I pushed off from the couch and walked to the dresser. My eyes slid to her small duffel bag. I peered inside briefly and saw two more of those same ugly gowns folded at the bottom.
“What the fuck,” I muttered, picking one up. Just looking at it made me want to trash it right away, but there wasn't a bin close enough. I dropped the bag back down with a huff. There was no way she was putting that shit back on.
I ripped open my top drawer, my movements sharp and restless. I started shoving my clothes aside—the thermal shirts, the spare holsters. I dug into the back where I kept the good stuff, the shirts that were soft, worn-in, and smelled like clean laundry.
I pulled them all to the front. I rearranged the entire top row, lining up my best black t-shirts and a couple of soft grey hoodies where she could reach them easily. Then I sat back down, waiting for her to come out in one of them.
The water ran for a long time. I stayed on the couch, boots propped up and arms crossed over my chest, trying like hell to keep my mind on anything else. I shifted in the seat, my jaw tight.
The shower finally cut off.
I heard the soft rustle of a towel and the faint squeak of the bathroom door opening. Steam rolled out first… then she stepped out.
Fuck.
She was wrapped in one of my black bath towels, the big one that usually hung on the back of the door. It was too large for her, swallowing her frame. The top edge was tucked tightly just above her breasts, and the bottom hem stopped high on her thighs. Her skin was still damp, little beads of water clinging to her collarbones and sliding slowly down the slope of her neck. Her hair was wet and dark, plastered to her cheeks and dripping in slow trails down her arms.
She looked soft. Vulnerable. And so goddamn beautiful it made my chest ache and my dick twitch at the same time. I found it hard to look away.
She stopped a few steps from the bed, suddenly aware of my eyes on her. A flush crept up from her chest to her cheeks, turning her skin that pretty pink I was starting to crave. She clutched the top of the towel with both hands, her knuckles white.
Our eyes met. For a second, neither of us moved.
I let my gaze drag over her slowly—the wet hair, the water droplets racing down her throat, the way the towel hugged her waist. My cock hardened instantly, thick and heavy against the zipper of my jeans. The ache was sudden and brutal.
She noticed.
Her lips parted, a tiny breath escaping. Her eyes widened, darting down to where my thighs were spread, then snapping back up to my face.
“I… um…” She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t bring any clothes with me, but Raven got me a few things.”
Raven. So she was the one who gave her those ugly gowns. I thought it, but I didn't bother saying it out loud. I didn’t answer right away. I just kept staring, letting the silence stretch until it felt electric.
“Top drawer of the dresser,” I finally said, my voice rougher than I intended. “Take whatever you want.”
My voice obviously did something to her. She nodded quickly and hurried over to the dresser on those bandaged feet. The towel rode up the back of her thighs as she moved, giving me a teasing glimpse of smooth, pale skin. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt.
She opened the drawer, and I watched her fingers hesitate over the soft black tees I’d moved to the front. She pulled out one of my favorite worn-in shirts and clutched it to her chest, still holding the towel closed with her other hand.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
I didn’t trust myself to speak again, so I just grunted. She rushed back into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. I let out a long, slow breath and dragged a hand down my face, trying to will my erection down. It wasn't working.
A few minutes later, she came out again wearing my shirt. It looked nothing like it did on me. The hem fell to the middle of her thighs. The neckline was loose, slipping off one shoulder to expose her collarbone. She looked small, swallowed by the fabric, but sexier than any woman I’d ever seen in lingerie.
She stood there for a second, shifting from foot to foot, then glanced at the bed. I stood up slowly, my cock still pressing uncomfortably against my jeans. I didn’t try to hide it. Let her see what she did to me.
“Get in bed, Daisy,” I said, my voice low.
She climbed under the covers without argument. Her eyes followed me as I moved back to the couch and dropped down. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes, but I wasn't sleeping.
And from the way her breathing stayed quick and shallow across the room, neither was she.
I pleaded with the monster between my legs to rest, but I knew it was going to be a long night.