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I climb on behind him. There is no other way to sit; I have to press my chest against his back, my arms wrapping around his waist. I can feel the hard muscle of his stomach, the heat radiating through all the layers of our clothes. It is the most intimate position I’ve ever been in with another person.

He takes off, and the world becomes a blur of wind and sound. I squeeze him tighter as we lean into a turn, my face pressed against the back of his shoulder. The fear I’ve been carrying for weeks seems to peel away.

We head toward the outskirts of the city. Diesel slows as we reach a scenic overlook, the city spread out below like a carpet of fallen stars. He kills the engine, but I don’t let go immediately. My head rests against his back, listening to the ticking of cooling metal and the steady beat of his heart. Out here, the stalker feels small. The danger feels distant. The only thing that feels real is the man I’m holding on to.

Diesel reaches back, his hand squeezing my arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, finally pulling away and sliding off the bike. I remove the helmet. My hair’s a tangled mess, my skin is buzzing with adrenaline, and I’ve never felt more alive. “I’m more than okay. I think I finally understand why you like these things so much. It’s hard to worry about the future when you’re going eighty miles an hour.”

He stands up, stretching his massive frame, the moonlight catching the silver of his rings. He looks like a king of the wasteland. He looks at the city, then back at me, expression unreadable.

“Exactly,” he says softly, “I knew you would get it.”

I look at him and realize with sharp clarity that the world I left behind in LA feels like a pale, flickering shadow compared to the vibrant reality of this one. I’m not just a guest here. I’m not just a woman to be protected. I catch myself imagining what it would be like to belong to him.

CHAPTER FIVE

DIESEL

Saturday morning, I’m up before sunrise, this part of Vegas still silent except for the steady slap of my shoes on the concrete. I push hard, pounding the miles out along the edge of the development, the tightness in my chest slowly burning into focus. Every time my lungs sear, I picture Serenity sleeping in the bedroom down the hall and pick up the pace. If I don’t get this wild energy out of me, I’ll end up knocking down Serenity’s door and doing something we both might regret. Not that I’d mind her naked and gasping in my sheets, but I’m trying to be a goddamn gentleman here.

By the time I get back, sweat’s dripping down my back and my shirt clings to every muscle. I throw open the door, expecting silence and maybe time for a cold shower, but she’s already there. Serenity. Sitting at the breakfast bar, wearing glasses and a faded tee, biting into a banana.

She glances up, eyes scanning me head to toe, and damn if I don’t want to drag her over the counter and claim her right now. “Didn’t have you pegged as a runner,” she tosses out, eyebrow arched like she’s defying me to prove her wrong.

I grab a bottle of water, twist it open, and smirk. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sweetness.”

I catch the way her gaze lingers. Oh, yeah. She’s curious, and I’m more than ready to show her everything. I groan as my cock hardens in my athletic shorts. Fuck. I walk over and lean against the counter, hoping to hide my sudden, embarrassing condition.

She doesn’t miss it. Not for a goddamn second. Those blue eyes flick down, her cheeks turning pink, but instead of looking scandalized, she smirks. “You, uh, need a minute to… cool off, Diesel?” Her lips wrap around the next bite of banana, and I actually have to close my eyes so I don’t do something insane like haul her over my shoulder and carry her straight to the nearest bed.

I clear my throat and take a long slug of water, but it does nothing to fix the problem south of my waistband. “You keep looking at me like that, sweetness, and cooling off isn’t in the cards.”

She’s still smiling when she slides off the stool. The hem of her shorts is scandalously high on her thighs. “So, what’s on the agenda today? After you cool…” she glances down at my cock, “off.”

Fuck, I love how sassy she is. It makes every nerve ending I have light up like a firecracker. Fuck. I need to get control of this situation. Deep in my soul, I know she needs more time before I make her mine. “Are you up for a ride after breakfast?”

Her eyes actually light up. “Heck yes.”

She looks so fucking cute and earnest that I almost lose my mind. I have to glance away, or I might end up doing something idiotic, like bending her over the kitchen counter right now and showing her exactly how badly I want her.

Instead, I grit my teeth and focus on not being a total fucking animal.

While I shower, she fixes us breakfast. When I come out, the whole space smells like fresh coffee and something sweet, and my gorgeous little houseguest has an actual spread laid out. French toast, berries, and real bacon. She’s wearing my “kiss the cook” apron, and that sight alone almost does me in. I want to tear all her clothes off and see her standing in my kitchen in nothing but my apron and that sassy smile.

Fuck. I might be going soft, but I don’t even care. Every second with her makes me want more. I grab a plate and sit next to her at the bar, my leg pressed against hers. I don’t miss how her breath hitches just a fraction.

“This is delicious,” I tell her, reaching over to steal a blueberry straight out of her bowl. My fingers brush her hand, and it’s like an electric shock. My cock’s already waking up again. Unbelievable. I just jacked the motherfucker off in the shower.

“I’m glad you like it,” she quips, and I can’t help but grin. “I thought you might need a few extra calories after your run and,” she pauses and winks at me, “extra-long shower.” She’s quick and she’s not afraid of me at all. I fucking love that.

She pours two mugs of coffee and pushes one toward me. “Do you do this every weekend?” she marvels, shaking her head. “Wake up at the ass crack of dawn and run miles before breakfast, then you eat like an actual lumberjack?”

I just shrug and shovel in another bite. “Pretty much.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Figures.” She finishes her plate like she’s been starving for days, then starts stacking up dishes before I can even blink.

I help her clear up, plates and mugs clattering as we load up the dishwasher. She hums under her breath, that little wiggle in her hips making me absolutely insane. Fuck. I’m ready to explode, and it’s not even 9 AM.