Page 29 of Drilled

“Aw. You sound fond of them,” she teased.

“Fuck off, Nance.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was just starting to think we lost you.”

We spoke for a bit longer, with her catching me up on what was happening in her personal life as well before we ended the call. I decided that I might as well start cooking and headed into the pantry to get a few things. Well, calling the narrow, walk-in closet just off the kitchen perimeter a “pantry” was being rather generous. But I liked to dream.

The deep floor-to-ceiling wrap-around shelves were lined with dry goods, canned items and a few small appliances that I had yet to properly unpack even after all these months. I tugged on the single overhead pull-string bulb and blinked in the harsh lighting as I attempted to find the ingredients I was looking for.

I was just reaching up for a can on the top shelf when I heard someone slip into the pantry behind me and close the door with a discreet click. Before I could even turn around completely, a massive, heat-radiating frame pressed forward, boxing me into the tight corner between the shelves and the wall.

Somehow, I knew exactly who this was.

“I’m only going to ask you this once, Lane. What exactly are your intentions with Sy, huh? Are you trying to fuck with his head or something?” Dax’s harsh whisper sent chills down my spine and I twisted around in the tiny space he’d cornered me into. I held out my forearm and shoved him back as hard as I could, reminiscent of the way he’d knocked back the thug that tried to mess with us in the iron yard.

Dax obviously wasn’t expecting that, because he staggered backwards for the step or two it took for his back to slam into the door. So much for being quiet. But I wasn’t about to let him think he could control my space this way.

In the yellowish light of the pantry, Dax suddenly didn’t look as miserable as he had for the past week or so. He was wearing the same expression he had when he was watching me and Silas in the construction zone. It was an accusatory glare, a hyperfocused awareness that raised the hair on the back of my neck.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought he hated me, but I did know better.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have no intentions with any of you,” I hissed the words out, careful to enunciate each syllable for him so he didn’t misunderstand me.

His gaze sharpened.

A similar rush of adrenaline that I felt on the back of his bike suddenly filled my veins. He took a step closer.

“No intentions with any of us, huh?” he repeated. “That’s a shame.”

I didn’t have time to formulate a comeback because Dax grabbed my waist and pressed my body against his. This time, there was no Bear to interrupt us, or the existential realization that we were outside and in public.

Here, we were in arguably the most private place in this house, hidden away where only we knew the absolute carelessness we were about to engage in.

But Dax kissed me like he couldn’t have given less of a fuck.

He kissed me like we were running out of air in this closet and I was the only oxygen left.

He kissed me like he was trying to translate every stupid comment and snide remark he’d made into an apology his ego couldn’t process but his body was hellbent on offering mine.

And finally, for the first time since I learned about pressure, my mind went blank as I kissed him back.

10

Lane

This time, I shoved him even harder against the door, my mouth still on his and my hands braced against his chest and shoulders. He groaned into my mouth, his hands slipping from my waist to my hips and then sliding around to grab my ass. He squeezed my butt and in response, I broke the kiss to bite his lower lip hard enough for him to growl low in his throat.

His head was leaned down, his forehead pressed against mine as we tried to catch our breath. It was the calm before the storm, a moment of clarity after an outburst that both of us knew would not just end here.

“We have to be quiet,” he whispered, one of his hands caressing its way up my body to rest at my neck. He tilted my head to the side, a gesture so soft and gentle compared to the kiss and touches we just shared that I had to swallow a moan when his lips ghosted the line of my jaw. “Can you be quiet for me?”

There was a hint of softness in his hands now. Not lust or anything wild but something altogether different and significantly scarier. I wrapped a hand in his hair, glad that he'd grown it out a little since the first time we met, and pulled his mouth from my neck. His lips parted in surprise, his eyes changing from shock to challenge.

“I should be the one asking you that. You’re the one who likes running his mouth all the time,” I taunted, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his exposed throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing under my lips and I ran my tongue across the skin there. I felt Dax shudder against me, the hand still resting on my ass suddenly increasing its grip, nails digging into my flesh.

I wanted him like this. Not soft and unpredictable–I couldn't deal with unpredictable. But I knew how to handle reckless men. I’d been doing it for the better part of a decade now.

“Silas and Bear are still working downstairs,” he breathed, his chest starting to heave.