Burnout – Tessa Vane

“I was terrified I’d die in that fire,” he continued. “Then you showed up and looked at me like—like I was human. Like saving me wasn’t an inconvenience. You talked to me. Kept me conscious. ‘Stay with me,’ you said. Like it mattered if I stayed.” “It did matter.”

“I know.” He took a breath. “That’s why. That’s why you. Because you saw something worth saving when everyone else just sees the monster.” We stood there in the doorway of a room he’d prepared months ago, and everything clicked into place. The gloves. The coffee. The locks. The book and the tea and the keys that said you’re free to leave. He wasn’t keeping me. He was keeping me safe. There was a difference. “This isn’t a cage, Kira,” he said quietly.

“It’s safety. You can leave whenever you want. Front door’s unlocked. Always will be. But while you’re here, nothing touches you. No one hurts you. You sleep and eat and rest and I stand guard.” “Why would you do that?” “Because I love you.” Three words. Said like they were fact. Like he’d known it for 489 days and was just now getting around to mentioning it. My heart hammered against my ribs. He stood three feet away and I wanted to close that distance.

Wanted to know if his mouth was as firm as it looked. Wanted to touch the scar on his jaw with my fingers, my lips. Wanted to feel those hands—the ones that had killed to protect me—gentle on my skin the way they’d been gentle with coffee and granola bars and books left on nightstands. Wanted things I had no business wanting from a man who’d just confessed he’d been watching me for 489 days. But I wanted them anyway. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you talk to engines. Give discounts to single mothers. Keep your brother’s workbench exactly how he left it.” He held my gaze. “You drink coffee black with one sugar. Threw away the oatmeal granola bar because you only like chocolate chip.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. 1kitap1.com/en CONTENTS 1. Ryker 2. Kira 3. Ryker 4. Kira 5. Ryker 6. Kira 7. Ryker 8. Kira Epilogue: KIRA Also by Tessa Vane 1kitap1.com/en S CHAPTER 1 RYKER he doesn’t know she saved me.

She doesn’t know she’s mine. The scar along my jaw still pulls tight when it’s cold. I run my thumb over it without thinking, feeling the ridge where skin melted and healed wrong. 16 months since the wreck. 16 months since Kira Johnson’s grease-stained hands touched my face and I remembered what gentle felt like. I’ve been watching her for 487 days. Every single one. My Harley idles low beneath me, tucked into the shadow across from Steel & Oil.

The bike’s a rebuild—I put her back together piece by piece after the fire tried to eat us both. Same frame. New everything else. Some things you can fix. Some things you just learn to live with the scars. 9:47 PM. Tuesday. Kira moves through the bay door, blue flannel loose over her coveralls, and something in my chest shifts. Not breaks. Shifts. Like an engine finally catching after running cold too long. She’s beautiful. Not magazine beautiful—real beautiful.

Strong shoulders from turning wrenches. Hands that know what they’re doing. Honey-brown eyes that actually see things instead of just looking. She keeps her hair up in a practical puff because she’s got work to do and no time for anything that gets in the way. She’s so damn competent it makes my teeth ache. And she’s alone. Too alone. Nobody watching her back. Nobody making sure she gets home safe.

Nobody seeing how hard she works or how she gives discounts to single mothers or how she talks to engines like they’re alive and just need someone to listen. I see it. I see all of it. I’ve got nothing else. The club keeps me busy—enforcer work means I handle problems the brothers can’t solve with words. Means I’m good at violence and better at silence. Means I’ve got a room at the clubhouse, a bike I rebuilt from scrap, and a patch on my back that says I belong somewhere.

But I don’t sleep.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 6a3223aebb5632ec
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,429,032 bytes (1.363 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 79
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 114.0 minutes
• Total Words: 22,799
• Total Characters: 126,626
• Average Words per Page: 288.59
• Average Characters per Page: 1602.86

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