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“I’m fine,” I said, trying to shrug, but knowing it looked like a weak, pathetic gesture.
“Babe, if there’s one fucking thing I know about women, it’s that they’re never fucking fine.”
“Does it matter if I’m actually fine or not?” I asked, my fragile walls just barely managing to stay in place. But if he didn’t drop it soon, it was going to get harder to reinforce them with each passing minute.
“Look, I’m not gonna pretend to know shit about your life. Or even you,” he added when I opened my mouth. “Or whatever this situation is that has you looking like you’re ready to jump out of your skin. So I’m not gonna fucking pester you about it.
“But I’m here. I got ears. They listen sometimes,” he said, giving me a smirk. “They could listen if you want someone to talkat. Or if you want someone to talkto, got a mouth that might spit some comforting or wise shit on occasion. Just offering. In case that’s actually what you need right now.
“If it’s not, if what you really want is just a distraction, I can be that too. Just telling you that there are options.”
I can’t tell you where the urge came from, but my forehead crashed into his chest then.
Not quite going in for a hug, as I was holding the rest of my body back. Maybe, in my stupid fucking head, that seemed like it was keeping things casual or something.
But my forehead pressed to his strong chest, and I closed my eyes really tight to pretend that I could feel his arms going around me, pulling me tight, holding onto me.
That was what I really wanted.
It was also something I would never let myself have.
So I took as much as I dared.
And Slash, clearly confused—because, well,why wouldn’t he be?—put his hand at the back of my neck over my hair, just a firm, reassuring pressure.
“I need a distraction,” I told him as the thoughts started to come pouring back in, making my damn eyes sting again.
“Okay,” Slash said, his hands finally moving, sliding down my bare back, making a shiver course through me before his hands sank into my ass, pulling me closer by it.
My own hands were moving then, pushing his leather cut off, then sliding up his tee.
His hands released me for long enough to discard his shirt.
His gaze was intense on mine as he looked down.
One of his hands went to my jaw, framing my face as his lips came down to mine.
But it wasn’t hard and hungry like I was used to, like it had always been.
It was just this side of, well, gentle.
Gentle.
That was not a word I ever thought I’d use to describe the hard-as-nails outlaw biker president.
But that was what he was with me right then. Like something in him responded to the vulnerability I was carefully trying to keep concealed.
And I just… melted into it.
Into him.
At that moment, we weren’t casual fuck-buddies.
We were a man and a woman sharing ourselves, giving each other sweetness and understanding.
It wasn’t long, though, before the desire went from a slow-burning flame to a raging fire in us.
His hands grabbed.
