Page 67 of Heat

Before she could finish the thought, Sayer closed the space between them in two long strides.

She didn’t move, didn’t flinch. She just blinked up at him like she wasn’t sure whether to punch him or bolt.

And then he kissed her.

Not tentative. Not asking. Just claiming.

One hand slid to the small of her back, the other curling around her jaw like he’d been starving for the taste of her since the second she left.

Diamond made a noise in the back of her throat—half protest, half surrender—and just like that, the fight in her drained out. Her hands gripped his shirt, knuckles white, like she wanted to push him away but forgot how.

The kiss deepened, heat threading between them like a live wire. When he finally pulled back, she was breathless. Pissed. And completely unraveled.

“You don’t get to do that,” she whispered, eyes stormy.

“Too late.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I already did.”

She should’ve shoved him. Should’ve reminded him she wasn’t some girl waiting around to be swept off her feet.

But her fingers were still fisted in his shirt, and she didn’t let go.

“You make me stupid,” she muttered, hating how her voice came out soft instead of sharp.

“Only for me, baby. Everyone else still gets the brass knuckles.”

That almost made her smile. Almost.

Her forehead dropped against his chest, a sigh slipping out of her lungs like it had been locked up for weeks.

“I hate that I missed you.”

Sayer’s arms came around her like he’d been waiting five weeks to do just that.

“I missed you too. Like hell.”

She let herself stay there, just for a moment—held, warm, and undeniably his.

And when he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “We’re not done, Diamond. Not even close.”

And for once, she didn’t have the energy—or the will—to argue. She just let herself stay in his arms, pressed against the steady rhythm of his chest, breathing him in like she’d been holding her breath since Montreal.

For a minute, there was nothing but the low hum of the engine and the warmth of him wrapped around her. Then, from the front of the cab—just beyond the half-drawn curtains—came a sharp snort of laughter, followed by the unmistakable sound of Fifi giggling.

“Told you she’d cave,” Domino’s voice said, smug and way too loud.

“You owe me twenty,” Fifi whispered.

Diamond groaned and pulled back, burying her face in Sayer’s chest as if she could disappear into it. “I’m going to kill them.”

“Get in line,” Sayer muttered, but he was grinning.

She shoved him lightly in the chest, trying to scowl but failing miserably. “You set me up.”

“Nah.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear. “I just knew how badly you missed me.”

More laughter from the front. Fifi let out a whistle. “Gonna need a mop back there!”

“Okay, that’s it.” Diamond yanked away and stormed toward the cab, murder in her eyes. “Dead. Both of you.”

Sayer just leaned against the wall of the sleeper, arms crossed, watching her go—with that crooked smile that said he knew exactly what he was doing.