Page 7 of Break Me

Safe.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot her.

Raven walks into the room, and just like that, every other conversation fades into background noise. Her hair's down now, loose waves spilling over her shoulders. She looks warm. Soft. Like every piece of winter light in the place bends toward her without trying.

Before she can make it to the table, her dad catches sight of her.

“There's my baby girl,” he calls.

A smile spreads across her face. “Dad…”

She bends to kiss his cheek before slipping into the seat beside him.

He just beams, handing her a plate like she'll stop being his little girl if he lets her serve herself. “Eat. You're too thin.”

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t argue. Daddy’s girl, through and through.

Her eyes lift, just once, and meet mine. She looks away quickly, cheeks flushing, but that’s enough to remind me exactly how she sounds when I’ve got my hand over her mouth, trying to keep her quiet.

It hits fast and low and hard. The kind of want that doesn’t give a damn about time or place or who’s sitting between us.

My jaw locks. My hands go still. Sitting here suddenly feels like trying to hold back a tide with my bare damn spine.

The conversation rolls on around me. The charity ride, the weather, and someone griping about a blown gasket, but it’s all background noise.

My focus keeps drifting to her.

The way she tucks her hair behind her ear.

The way she leans into her dad, softening in a way she never does for anyone else.

The way her breath catches like she feels my eyes on her.

I shouldn’t look again. But I do anyway.

Then, she glances at the door like she’s waiting for a chance to slip away. She gives me the tiniest nod. Blink, and you'd miss it. But I don’t miss it.

A minute later, she stands. “Gonna run to the restroom,” she says lightly, grabbing her coat.

Knox doesn’t even look up. “Take your time.”

Raven walks out, unnoticed.

I give her a head start, then push my chair back too.

“Smoke break,” I say.

Knox raises a brow. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Since right now.”

The words are out before I can stop them.

I've known Knox for damn near half my life. The man knows what I drink, what I eat, and how many cups of coffee I need before I'm fit for human interaction. Telling him I suddenly picked up smoking is about as convincing as telling him I joined a knitting club.

Before he can call me on my bullshit, Mouse leans across the table. “You still want me posting someone outside the garage this week?”

Knox's attention shifts.