Page 20 of My Veteran Biker

Her breath catches. She uncrosses her arms and takes a step closer, then another, until we're back in each other's space.

"I don't know if I can do this," she says.

"Neither do I."

"We're older, we should know better."

"Yeah."

"This is a terrible idea."

"Probably..."

She reaches up and touches my face. Her palm is cool against my jaw, her thumb brushing my cheekbone.

I close my eyes and let myself feel it, the simple reality of her touching me.

When I open my eyes she's crying. Silent tears running down her face.

"I never stopped," she whispers. "Wanting you. I tried. God, I tried. But I never did."

I kiss her again. Softer this time, tasting the salt of her tears.

She kisses me back like she's afraid I'll disappear if she doesn't hold on tight enough.

When we finally break apart the sun is coming through the window and the bathroom is warm and we're both breathing hard.

"Stay," she says.

"Okay."

She takes my hand and leads me to her bedroom. We lie down on top of the covers, facing each other.

Her hand rests on my ribs just below the wound. Mine rests on her hip.

We don't talk. Just breathe together while the light gets brighter and the day starts without us.

I haven't slept next to someone in over a decade. Haven't wanted to. But lying here with Francis, feeling her breathing even out as she falls asleep, I realize this is what I've been missing.

Not just sex. Not just company.

This. The specific weight of someone who matters, someone you'd die protecting, someone you want to wake up next to even when you're too tired to keep your eyes open.

I fall asleep with my hand on her hip and wake up two hours later with her body pressed against mine and the wound throbbing under the gauze.

Worth it.

Chapter 5 — Francis

The first thing I notice is his hand. It's on my stomach, fingers splayed wide, covering the soft flesh there like he put it there on purpose. Like he wanted to feel exactly that part of me while he slept.

I'm awake before he is, lying on my side with his chest against my back and his breath warm on my neck. My phone on the nightstand says 9:47am.

We slept for three hours.

My body feels wired, alert in a way that has nothing to do with rest and everything to do with the fact that Knox is in my bed with his hand on the part of me I usually hide under loose shirts.

He shifts behind me and his hand tightens, pulling me closer against him.