The words wrapped strangely warm around my chest.
All the time in the world.
I should’ve argued.
Instead, I just watched him lying beside me in the dim light and realized something terrifying.
I trusted him.
Completely.
“Stay?”I asked softly.
Push looked at me for one long second before nodding once.“Yeah.”
Relief hit me instantly.
Not because of sex.Not because of attraction, but because when Push was near me, I felt safe.And that was a whole different kind of dangerous feeling I definitely did not want to unpack tonight.
So instead, I curled closer to him beneath the blankets while his arm wrapped around my waist automatically.
The kissing had already been enough to leave my head spinning.The fact that he stopped things before they went too far made me want him even more.
Respect from a biker shouldn’t have been sexy, yet somehow it was.
Exhaustion finally started pulling at me while I tucked myself against his chest.
I should’ve felt guilty.
My sister was still missing.People were still dying.A killer was still out there somewhere.But lying there beside Push in the dark clubhouse room… It was the first time in a very long time that I felt safe.
And somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, I fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Fourteen
Push
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was warm.Not overheated.Not uncomfortable.Just… warm.
For a few seconds, I stayed still with my eyes closed, caught somewhere between sleep and waking.The clubhouse was quiet around us, which never happened often.Usually by this time, somebody was yelling, coffee was brewing, Piney was bitching about something dramatic, or Anchor was already annoyed at the world.
But right then?Nothing.Just quiet.
Then I felt her move against me slightly, and my eyes opened.McKayla was curled against my side with one arm tucked between us, and her dark hair spread across my chest and pillow.Sometime during the night, she’d practically climbed on top of me in her sleep, one bare leg tangled with mine beneath the blankets.
And fuck, that hit harder than it should’ve.
The bedside lamp was still on low from the night before, casting soft light across her face.Her breathing was slow and steady, and one cheek was smashed slightly against my chest in a way she’d probably hate if she knew about it.
But she looked peaceful, actually peaceful.No tension between her brows.No smartass remark locked and loaded.No walls.
Just McKayla.
And I realized with a hard punch to the chest that this was the first time in a long damn time I’d slept peacefully beside someone.
Years probably.Maybe ever.
Usually, when I slept beside women, it ended one of two ways: awkwardly or temporarily
