Page 77 of Diesel's Perseverance
Myla stepped closer to Diesel, and lust slammed into him, tightening his balls and making his cock grow hard from the scent of her perfume.
“Burgers,” he said, his voice a hoarse rasp. Then he cleared his throat. “Burgers,” he replied again, relieved that he didn’t sound like a weak pansy.
“I love burgers. I hope they’re as good as the ones we had at Bud’s Grill. Can we eat outside? It’s such a beautiful evening.”
“Yeah.” He opened the door and caught another whiff of her sexy scent as she passed by.
Fuck… it’s gonna be a long night.
Chapter Fourteen
The bandage waslightly soiled, indicating that the bleeding had subsided quite a bit from the night before. Myla cut away the gauze, gently cleaned the wound, and applied a new dressing. She inhaled slowly, gazed at Diesel’s well-defined muscles, taut against his tanned skin, and softly traced a finger over the letters on a tattoo covering most of his back.
“It matches the patch on your vest,” she said.
“It’s the club’s full colors. Most full-patched members have the tattoo. It’s called aback-pack.” He’d propped himself up on an elbow and looked up at her.
“That must’ve hurt,” she said.
“It’s whatever. You got any ink on you?”
“No. I’ve been tempted, but I’m too chicken. This here”—Myla pointed to a crystal stud in her nostril—“hurt like hell. I can’t imagine needles pushing into my skin for any length of time.”
“It’s not that bad. I’m gonna have to talk you into a small one. Once you get that, you’ll be hooked.”
“I doubt that.” She smiled and pointed at his back. “Does your wound hurt much?”
“Not too bad. How’d it look?”
“Real good. There wasn’t any pus, and the edges are barely red. The doctor’s going to be pleased.” Myla picked up the glass of water and bottle of pills from the nightstand. She shook out one capsule. “You need to take your antibiotic.”
Diesel pushed up to a sitting position. The grimace on his face told her he was in pain, but she knew he’d never fess up to it. She gave him a pill and the water.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her the empty glass.
When she reached for it, their fingers brushed. Warmth curled deep in her gut, and she wanted to loop her arm around his neck and pull him to her. The memory of his kisses ached on her lips, and she wanted nothing more than to press her mouth to his.
“The fucker was at the rally.”
The words came as a shock, acting like a bucket of cold water on the desire swirling inside her.
“Cano was there? Where? I didn’t see him.”
“The fucker was at the Grim Henchmen’s booth, chatting up a storm, which tells me he’s tight with them. There’s no fuckin’ way any one-percenters will say more than a couple of words to citizens at a rally. No fuckin’ way.” Diesel propped a pillow behind his lower back and leaned against it.
“So it was him at the airport. I thought it probably was.”
“It was the asshole.”
“How did he know I was coming to San Diego and would arrive onthatflight? Who else knew about it?”
“No one but the Insurgents. Not even all of them.”
“What do you mean, not all of them?”
“Only a few here knew you were coming.”
“But others could have overheard. It’s hard to keep things secret when so many people live under the same roof.”
