He looked down at the beauty sleeping against him, her warm breath floating in soft puffs over his skin. She jerked in her sleep, whimpering, legs kicking. He held her a little tighter. “Shh. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” The tension eased from her body, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulling the blanket over her. Unfamiliar sensations slithered through his chest, different from the ones that usually had his cock saluting when he was near her. These were protective urges, bigger and more powerful than anything he’d ever felt. These sensations made him want to bolt, and at the same time, they made him want to nail his fucking boots to the ground.

What the hell?

Chapter Four

MORNING CREPT IN with stages of awareness of all the places Tracey hurt, which was pretty much all over, of cool air between her legs, and of Diesel’s arm wrapped protectively around her, his hand cupping her ass through his shirt that she was wearing. All the parts of her that were resting on him were hot. He was like a freaking furnace. She swallowed hard, her nerves pinging like a pinball. How could she have forgotten to put on underwear? She lay still, her cheek on his bare chest, his heart beating steady and sure against it, his thick arm keeping her tight against him even in his sleep. This from the man who everyone knew hated to be touched.

Maybe he didn’t have a heart of stone after all.

She must have kicked off the blanket in the middle of the night, because it was bunched up at the bottom of the bed. Her gaze slid down the length of him, lingering on the dusting of hair leading south from his belly button and disappearing beneath the waist of his jeans. She couldn’t help but notice the bulge behind his zipper or the outline of what looked like a mammoth erection trailing down his pants leg.

Lord have mercy.

She forced her gaze lower. His feet reached the end of the bed. He’d slept in his black leather boots. She’d bet he still had his hat on, too. Memories of last night trickled in, bringing the faces of the monsters who had attacked her and the menacing look in Diesel’s eyes as he’d come to her rescue, so different from the compassionate looks he’d given her last night. How had he known she’d been rooted to the shower floor, unable to pull herself together? How was it possible that the man beside her was the same man she’d thought might have a bevy of bodies buried somewhere? She couldn’t be more grateful for his helping her when she was attacked or for keeping her safe last night.