Diesel, page 7
“Diesel—” Sophie began.
“Shh. You sit. I’ll fix us something to eat,” Diesel offered.
She didn’t argue. Couldn’t. She was too wrung out, too raw, and deep down she liked letting him take care of her, just this once.
From the kitchen, she heard cupboards opening, the clink of pans. Ten minutes later, Diesel returned with a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast, a mug of tea steaming in his other hand. He set them down and crouched before her, tilting her chin up.
“You eat first, sweetheart. We’ll talk after,” he said.
Her throat burned. No one had ever taken care of her like this, like she was precious. Worth protecting. She obeyed, slow bites at first, then faster as warmth spread through her.
Diesel watched her the whole time, eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite name. When she finished, he took the plate away and came back with the tea.
She sipped it, hands still trembling faintly. Diesel sat beside her then, pulling her gently into his side. She curled against him without hesitation, her head resting over his heart.
“You scared the shit outta me today,” he murmured against her hair.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I get it. But next time, you call me. No matter what,” he told her.
“I will.”
He kissed the top of her head, arms tightening around her. For long minutes, they sat there in silence, the steady beat of his heart grounding her. Eventually, she tipped her head back to look at him.
“Why’d you come?” she asked softly. “You could’ve waited for the others, but you didn’t.”
Diesel’s gaze burned into hers. “Because you’re mine, Sophie. You don’t walk into hell without me by your side. Ever,” he said.
Her breath caught. No one had ever claimed her like that—fierce, protective, without shame.
“Am I really?” she whispered.
He cupped her cheek, eyes softening. “Yeah, sweetheart. You’ve been mine since the second you kissed me back.”
Tears welled again, this time not from fear but from something deeper.
“I’m yours too,” she said simply.
Diesel kissed her then. slow and tender, lips moving over hers like a vow. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers.
“Now get some rest,” he murmured. “I ain’t leaving you alone tonight.”
“You promise?” Sophie asked.
“Swear it.”
She finally smiled, eyes fluttering shut against the steady thrum of his heart.
Wrapped in his arms, warm and safe for the first time in what felt like forever, Sophie let herself drift.
****
Diesel woke to the soft warmth of Sophie pressed against him.
The morning light filtered pale and golden through her curtains. Outside, the town was just stirring awake, but in here, the world was still hushed, suspended.
For a long moment, he didn’t move, just breathed her in. He rested his head against hers, one arm wrapped tight around her waist. She was still asleep, her breath slow and even against his chest. Her fingers were curled loosely against his shirt, her body nestled trustingly into his.
And Christ, if that didn’t undo him. Diesel stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, as everything from yesterday came rushing back. The bridge. Kane’s sneer. That gun pointed at her beautiful, stubborn head.
He’d thought for one gut-wrenching second that he was going to watch her die right in front of him, just like he had with his sister. That old wound ripped wide open then, raw and bleeding. He could still hear his sister’s voice in those final moments, the helpless way he’d failed her. And if he’d failed Sophie too...
His arms tightened around her instinctively, as if his body needed to remind itself that she was here. Safe. Warm. Alive. Not this time. Not her.
Diesel pressed his face against her hair, letting the familiar scent of her shampoo calm the storm in his chest. I won’t fail again, he vowed silently. Not with her. Never with her.
Sophie stirred softly in his arms. A small hum escaped her lips as she blinked up at him, eyes still hazy with sleep.
“Hey,” she whispered, voice rough with the morning.
His breath caught. She looked so damn beautiful like this, bare-faced, sleepy, soft in his arms. Completely his.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he rumbled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “You sleep okay?”
She nodded, then tucked her face against his chest again, sighing deeply.
“I didn’t want to wake up,” she murmured. “Not if it meant losing this.”
Diesel’s throat worked.
“You’re not losing a damn thing,” he said softly. “I’m here, Sophie. Not going anywhere.”
She tilted her head back to meet his gaze, eyes full of something deep and quiet.
“You mean that?” she asked.
Diesel cupped her cheek, thumb stroking over her skin. “Yeah, I do.”
The words weren’t easy. They scraped past all his old scars, all the things he’d buried for so long. But looking at her, knowing how close he’d come to losing her, there was no way in hell he was keeping this part of himself locked up anymore. She deserved more than half of him. She deserved everything. Sophie brushed her fingers against his jaw, tender and sure.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
His chest tightened. “I almost didn’t,” he admitted, voice rough. “You don’t know how close that was. If I’d been even a minute later—”
“Don’t,” she said softly, pressing a finger to his lips. “You were there. That’s what matters.”
Diesel closed his eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in.
“I’ve told you about Emily, about my sister,” he said. Sophie nodded, expression grave. She was listening. “She needed me, and I wasn’t there in time.”
She stilled against him, her breath hitching. “Oh, Diesel...”
He shook his head, eyes dark with old grief.
“Since then, I promised myself I’d never let anyone get that close again. Couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk failing someone like that again.”
He looked down at her, voice raw. “But you wrecked all that. First time I saw you smile, I was already lost. And last night, seeing Kane point that gun at you, I knew I’d burn the whole damn world to keep you safe,” Diesel said.
Tears welled in Sophie’s eyes, her fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him down until their foreheads touched.
“You didn’t fail me,” she whispered. “You never will. I trust you, Diesel. With everything.”
Those words cracked something wide open in him. No woman had ever said that to him. No one had ever looked past the scars and the darkness and given him their trust so freely. He swallowed hard, his arms pulling her impossibly closer.
“When I said I’m not letting you go, I meant it,” he whispered fiercely. “You got that? You’re mine now, Sophie. And I’ll spend every damn day making sure you know how much that means.”
She smiled through her tears. “Good. Because you’re mine too.”
Diesel kissed her then, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of feeling into it. This wasn’t about lust or fire anymore. It was something deeper, more dangerous. A need that ran all the way down to the bone.
When they finally broke apart, Sophie traced his jaw with her fingers, gaze steady.
“Will you stay today?” she asked softly.
Diesel didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll stay as long as you want me,” he said simply.
Relief washed over her features, softening her expression.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t think I can let you go just yet.”
He pressed another kiss to her temple, arms tightening once more. “Sweetheart, I’m right where I want to be,” he told her.
They lay there together as the sun climbed higher, wrapped in warmth and the fragile beginnings of something too big and too real to name just yet.
Epilogue
A few weeks passed, but the aftershocks of what had happened at the bridge lingered like an echo in Sophie’s bones.
She didn’t speak of it often, and Diesel didn’t push. But every time she glanced at him, whether standing in the flower shop doorway with arms crossed, or sitting at her kitchen table nursing a mug of coffee, she saw it. The same haunted protectiveness that lived in his gaze now.
Yet beneath it, something gentler had begun to bloom between them. Their nights were quieter, filled with whispered conversations and tangled limbs beneath the covers. Diesel had practically moved in, not that they’d said it aloud, but neither of them wanted the space.
She’d never felt so safe. Or so utterly claimed. So, when Diesel asked her to close the shop early one golden Saturday, she was curious. He’d been restless all morning, pacing like a caged bear while she arranged bouquets and straightened displays.
“Diesel,” she teased, slipping her arms around his waist when he came up behind her at the counter. “If you’re gonna hover, at least pretend to be helpful.”
His answering rumble of laughter vibrated through her.
“Not hovering, sweetheart. Just waiting for you to lock up,” he said.
She arched a brow. “Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Which led to now. Sophie standing on the sidewalk in the soft glow of sunset, keys jingling in her palm as Diesel moved something covered with a tarp out from his truck bed. Her curiosity deepened when he hefted it toward the front wall of the flower shop.
“Diesel, what—”
He grinned, boyish and unguarded in a way that made her heart flutter. “Hold on.”
With practiced ease, he unscrewed the bolts of the tarp and pulled it free. Sophie gasped. A solid bronze plaque gleamed beneath the fading light, freshly mounted beside the front door:
PROTECTED BY THE IRON SENTINELS MC. TRESPASSERS WILL REGRET IT.
Her breath caught. Emotion rose thick in her throat.
“You did this ... for me?” She asked.
Diesel wiped his hands on a rag, then stepped beside her, one arm curling possessively around her waist.
“For you. For this place. I want everyone in this damn town and anyone thinking about coming through here to know. You’re under our protection now, Sophie. Under my protection,” he told her.
Her heart pounded. This wasn’t just about keeping her safe. This was him claiming her. Publicly. Without apology. She turned in his arms, her hands flattening against his chest.
“You didn’t have to—” Sophie began.
“Yeah, I did.” His eyes softened. “I couldn’t save my sister, Soph. But I swear to you, no one’s ever gonna lay a damn finger on you again. Not while I’m breathing.”
Emotion swelled hot behind her eyes. “You’re gonna make me cry,” she whispered.
Diesel brushed her cheek with his rough fingers. “No crying. Not today,” he told her.
Then he reached into the pocket of his worn leather jacket.
“Actually, there’s something else,” he added.
Sophie blinked as he pulled out a small black velvet box. Her pulse skittered.
“Diesel...”
He popped it open. Inside lay a simple silver ring. No diamonds. No flash. Just clean lines and timeless weight. It was exactly what she would’ve chosen herself. Diesel’s gaze burned into hers.
“Be my old lady, Sophie.” The words came rough but sure, spoken from a place deeper than pride or tradition. “Not because of the club. Not because of what you survived. But because I want you. Every day. Every damn night. I want you wearing my ring, knowing you’re mine and I’m yours. I want this life with you,” he said.
Sophie’s vision blurred.
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes.”
Diesel let out a harsh breath of relief, hauling her tight against him as their mouths met.
The kiss was nothing polite or reserved. It was raw and claiming, the kind that sent sparks shooting through every inch of her body.
When he finally pulled back, their foreheads pressed together, both of them trembling.
“Put it on me,” she whispered.
Diesel’s hands weren’t steady as he slid the ring onto her finger. When it settled there, a perfect fit, she let out a shaky laugh.
“You’re stuck with me now,” she told him.
He growled low, backing her against the shop’s door.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been stuck since the first time you smiled at me,” Diesel said.
Their laughter faded into another heated kiss. By the time they drove home to her apartment, Sophie’s nerves thrummed with anticipation.
She barely made it through the doorway before Diesel spun her into his arms again.
“Gonna show you how much I mean it,” he rasped.
“Then do it,” she dared, voice breathless.
They kissed all the way to the bedroom, shedding layers as they went. Jacket, boots, his shirt falling to the floor.
Diesel handled her like something both precious and wild, lifting her to sit on the edge of the bed. His gaze roamed over her hungrily, as if memorizing every inch.
“You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “Mine.”
Sophie cupped his face, heart swelling so full she thought it might burst.
“Yes. Yours,” she whispered.
Diesel spoiled her with kisses, trailing heat down her throat, across her collarbone, over the lace of her bra. When his mouth closed over a nipple, Sophie arched with a moan, her fingers tangling in his hair. Every touch was reverent. Every kiss, a brand.
By the time he stripped her bare and settled between her thighs, she was trembling for him, eyes glazed with need.
“Tell me if I need to stop,” he rasped, hovering there.
“Don’t you dare,” she gasped.
Their bodies met with a desperate, perfect slide. Diesel buried his face against her neck as he thrust deep and sure, his every movement speaking the words he couldn’t say aloud. You matter, I’m here, I’ll never let you go again.
Sophie clung to him, tears spilling unchecked now, not from fear but overwhelming love. When her release broke over her, her cry was Diesel’s name, breathless and fierce.
He followed moments later, spilling into her with a guttural groan, hips shuddering, arms caging her like she was the center of his entire damn universe.
After, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he cradled her close, brushing kisses over her damp temple, her shoulder, her fingers now adorned with his ring.
“I love you, Sophie,” he whispered against her hair. “Don’t know when it happened. Just know it’s true.”
She smiled through fresh tears, burying her face in his chest. “I love you too.”
The End
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BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER
CARVER
Savage Arrows, 1
Winter Sloane
Copyright © 2024
Sample Chapter
Lucy wiped down the last of the tables, her feet aching from the double shift she had just pulled at the diner. The sun had already set, and she couldn’t wait to head home. Cindy, a coworker and someone she considered a friend, approached with an apologetic smile.
“Hey, Lucy,” Cindy began, wringing her hands nervously. “Do you mind closing up tonight? I’ve got a date, and it’s kinda important.”
Lucy glanced up, exhaustion weighing heavily on her. She had been on her feet since the morning shift, her muscles screaming for a break. But seeing the hopeful look in Cindy’s eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to say no. She nodded tiredly, forcing a small smile.
“Sure, Cindy. Go ahead. Have fun,” Lucy managed to say.
Relief washed over Cindy’s face, and she hesitated for a moment before asking, “Do you have any plans for tonight? It’s Friday, after all.”
Lucy’s smile turned wistful as she thought of her mysterious, reclusive neighbor, Carver. When she first moved into the old apartment building, it seemed just like any other rundown place she had rented before—peeling wallpaper, creaky floors, and the constant hum of traffic outside her window.
The building was a far cry from safe, and Lucy, having grown up in this neighborhood, knew better than to be complacent. She always slept with a gun under her pillow, a precaution she considered necessary.
One night, not long after she moved in, Lucy came home to find two men rifling through her belongings. She could see the malice in their eyes as they turned to face her. Panic seized her, and she screamed, fully expecting no one to come to her aid. But to her shock, Carver burst through the door, a shotgun in hand. She didn’t know how he managed to scare the two intruders off.
Since then, Carver had been a quiet but reassuring presence in her life. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was in short, clipped sentences. ITALY
He was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve and yet some part—the sensible part—of her brain told her to stay away from a guy like Carver. But Lucy didn’t want to. There was something about him that drew her in.
Lucy blinked, bringing herself back to the present. She looked at Cindy and shrugged.
“Nothing special,” she said softly. “Just a quiet night in.”
Cindy grinned and gave Lucy a quick hug. “Thanks a million, Lucy! I owe you one.”
As Cindy dashed out the door, Lucy sighed and glanced at the clock. She still had a few more tasks to complete before she could head home. Thoughts of Carver lingered in her mind. She couldn’t deny the spark of interest she felt whenever she saw him, the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster.
It was silly, the way she was crushing on her neighbor—a guy she knew next to nothing about. But Lucy had been dealt bad cards by fate before.
