RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 92: FRIDA -

The man who had been sitting on the motorcycle took off his helmet, revealing his face.

"Reg?..." Frida said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Reg dismounted the motorcycle and approached cautiously.

"Careful," she said softly as Laz walked toward her and she helped him to help Frida onto the motorcycle.

"Where are the rest of the guys?"

"They ran off," Laz replied.

"How?" Frida asked, her voice full of pain and confusion.

"No time to explain," Reg interjected. She turned to Laz, speaking in Spanish. "You should take her to the hospital."

Frida groaned in protest. "Don’t take me to the hospital, please. I don’t want to go," she pleaded, her body trembling as Laz carried her on his back.

"Got it," Laz replied, his voice steady.

He gently held her on the motorcycle and adjusted the helmet over her hair with care.

She winced. "Fuck, that hurts," she whispered.

"Sorry, love," he murmured, climbing onto the motorcycle and placing her hands around his waist. "Hold on tight, okay?"

"I’ll explain later. I promise," Reg said as Laz started the engine.

The ride was swift, the roar of the motorcycle merging with the wind whipping past them. Frida clung to Laz, her mind wandering despite the pain.

She wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t met Laz. Would it have been better? Or just... boring?

A faint smile played on her lips as she tightened her hold on him. She finally understood just how deeply obsessed this man was with her, and how crazy she was about him, too.

His life had always been chaotic, and she had chosen to dive headfirst into it. Maybe their lives were meant to be messed up from start to finish.

Yet, for the first time, she felt at home, safe and exhilarated on the back of his motorcycle.

"We’re here," Laz’s voice rumbled, deeper than usual, perhaps because of the cold.

His cheeks were red, his eyes watery, and his expression carried a tinge of guilt, like he blamed himself for her injuries.

Frida watched as he got off the motorcycle, still clad in sinful black leather, his helmet tucked under one arm.

He stretched out his hand to help her down, his actions as careful as if she were made of glass.

"Something wrong?" he asked, noticing her staring.

She shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away. He helped her off with deliberate slowness, and she could feel her heart racing.

Her gaze shifted to the house behind him, a sleek, glass mansion gleaming under the moonlight. Her jaw dropped.

"Is that an Airbnb?" she asked incredulously.

Laz turned to glance at it casually. "Yeah."

"Oh... are you renting it for the night? It must be expensive. You can take me back to my dorm; I’ll be fine," she offered politely.

He cut her off. "I own it."

Her mouth fell open in shock. "What?!"

"You don’t like it? I can take you to another one if you prefer," he said nonchalantly, holding her hand with such gentleness it felt unreal.

"Y-you have another one?" she stammered, still in disbelief.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug before scooping her into his arms like she weighed nothing.

"Just how rich are you?" she gasped.

"Rich enough to make you happy. I mean, what’s the point of money if it doesn’t make you gasp like that, love?"

She blushed furiously. "Why are you calling me that?"

"Calling you what?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know... that," she said shyly.

"What, love?" he repeated, his tone innocent yet teasing.

"Yes, that," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Because that’s what you are to me," he said simply, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity.

Her hold on his shoulders tightened as he continued walking toward the house.

"I almost lost you," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "These last 24 hours of searching for you... it was worse than hell. Thinking about losing you..."

Frida blinked back tears, deciding to change the subject. "You know I can walk, right?"

He shrugged, and damn, it was sexy. "Yeah. And?"

"Why are you walking so slowly? Are you enjoying carrying me that much?" she teased.

"Oh, what gave me away?" he chuckled, his chest vibrating against her ear.

When they finally stepped inside, she wiggled to get down. "Drop me, Laz."

He didn’t budge.

"Drop me!" she repeated sternly. "I want to shower."

He arched a brow but relented, carefully setting her down.

As she started walking, she realized she didn’t know where the bathroom was. Turning, she asked, "Can you show me the bathroom?"

He smirked but quickly masked it. "Of course, Your Majesty."

He led her to a dimly lit bedroom with a plush bed and purple ambient lighting. On the carpet lay a leash, and she froze.

"Interesting hobby," she remarked, arching a brow.

"Influencers and content creators get freaky sometimes," he said, clearing his throat.

"Ever leashed anyone?" she asked, her tone playful.

He stiffened, giving her a speechless look. "No." freewebnøvel.com

"Would you like to try?" she blurted out.

Laz opened his mouth to respond but stopped as they reached the bathroom.

She slipped past him into the glass shower. "Privacy, Laz."

He gulped, his voice breathless. "Can’t I watch?"

Her mouth parted in shock, her face flushing despite the pain.

"Some other time," she whispered.

He nodded and quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The shower was agonizing; every drop of water stung as it washed blood and grime down the drain. Her bruises throbbed, and her body ached with every movement. By the time she finished, she felt more drained than refreshed and desperately craved a painkiller.

On the bed lay a simple yet comfortable set of nightwear—a large, button-down, checkered pajama set. She slipped it on, the soft fabric soothing against her battered skin.

The scent of food wafted through the air, guiding her through the maze of the house. She shyly descended the stairs, pausing when her eyes caught sight of him in the kitchen.

He stood at the stove, his back to her, muscles flexing with every movement. His biceps tightened as he expertly flipped something in a frying pan, and her eyes drifted lower to his narrow waist.

She licked her lips, momentarily forgetting her pain, and drawled with a playful grin, "Lord, you’re sexy."

He turned at her voice, blinking with wide, innocent gray eyes that contrasted sharply with the perspiration glistening on his chest.

She felt her heartbeat quicken at the sight of him, disheveled, raw, and utterly captivating.

As she approached him slowly, his gaze darkened with every step she took. "You know something crazy?" she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

"What?" he asked, his tone equally hushed, as though caught in her spell.

She leaned in, her arms bracketing him against the counter, their faces so close their breaths mingled.

Frying sounds hissed softly in the background as she whispered, her voice dripping with mischief, "You have the most sinful waist I’ve ever seen."