Making the Cut (5 page)

“Gwen.” He spoke my name roughly and my pesky body reacted, the shivers returning.

“How do you know my name?” I squeaked, sounding like a scared child.

He continued to stare like I was some puzzle he couldn’t figure out.  “Not much gets past me sweetheart, especially something like you,” His gaze pierced my skin. I wanted to squirm, the attraction between us palpable. I managed to regain my wits when my eyes caught the ‘Vice President’ badge on his cut.

“You’re a regular Sherlock Homes. Well if you’ll excuse us, I just lost my appetite.” I replied acidly, and somewhat unsteadily got to my feet. Amy followed suit. I reached into my purse, grabbing what I knew was far too much and threw it on the table.

“Enjoy your night boys.” I muttered, before flipping my hair, and did my best (I had maybe one too many cosmos) to strut towards the door.

We made it to the parking lot and Amy was decidedly silent, either figuring out what kind of emotional state I was in and how to deal with me, or contemplating how hot all those men were. I was hoping for the latter. Unluckily for me, she had about three less cosmos than I did.

“Well.” Amy started carefully while fishing for her keys. “That was, an interesting end to the night. Bikers, who would have thought?”

“Yep, well this is America, there is probably some small time gang of Sons of Anarchy wannabes in every ho dunk town.” I replied, going for flippant.

Amy wasn’t buying it, giving me a look across the car.

“I’m fine okay Ames? I’m not going to have a fucking mental breakdown because some guys said three words to us, have some faith.” I snapped.

“Okay girl.” She unlocked the door and paused. “They were pretty fine.”

Now I was the one to give her a look.

“You know for bad ass lowlifes.” She carried on. “I would totally do Dwayne Johnson.”

My head snapped up. “Oh my god he seriously could be ‘The Rock.’”

We both burst out laughing, the tension from the exchange with the bikers disappearing.

I tossed and turned in bed sleep eluding me. The meeting with the three sexy bikers, and one in particular had brought up issues that were already simmering just below the surface. I grumbled, picking up my phone, 2.05am, great. Knowing I would never get to sleep I threw back my covers and wrapped my kick ass silk kimono around my nightie clad body.

I crept downstairs as not to wake Amy, although I didn’t know why I bothered that girl slept like the dead. I should know after trying to wake her up early every year for New York Fashion Week. I grabbed a soft afghan off the couch and poured myself a glass of wine, or happiness as I liked to think of it. I stepped out onto our porch, lighting the small lanterns that sat either side of the comfy porch chair. I sighed and snugged myself onto the chair, nestling my glass of wine at my chest, taking small sips while getting lost in a daydream. A daydream about a certain sexy biker. I imagined what my reaction would have been if I had not been royally fucked up by the prick whom I do not speak of. I definitely would not have dismissed him as coldly as I did at the restaurant, I would have certainly taken him up on his offer to help me with my bags when we first met. I more than likely would have had him in my bed once he stepped foot inside. I’m not some kind of harlot; the attraction between us was insane, way beyond normal, the kind of lust at first sight that I read about in my romance novels. I wondered what he would be like in bed, would he take me rough and hard? Or slow, savoring every minute? I pictured him running his hands down my body, covering me with his huge muscles, dominating me. I slipped my hand between my legs feeling wetness.

“A little late to be sitting out here on your own isn’t it?” A deep voice shocked me out of my sensual dream.

“JESUS CHRIST!” I yanked my hand out of my underwear, sitting up and sending my wine glass flying.

“No sweetheart, don’t think anyone has mistaken me for that do gooder before.” Cade moved onto my porch, hands in his pockets looking too good at this hour. What was I thinking? He was probably up to all sorts of dodgy shit, like casing the neighborhood.

“What the FUCK are you doing on my porch at 2 in the morning?” I whispered angrily, hoping the commotion had not woken Amy. Unless Cade was here to murder me, or kidnap me and sell me into white slavery then I hoped Amy was awake and in the process of calling the authorities.

“I think the more appropriate question is, what is a woman doing out on an unprotected porch in the middle of the night, not even aware enough to know when someone is within ten feet of her?” Cade shot back angrily.

I flinched back in surprise, was that concern in his tone?

“What do you care?” I replied, recovering quickly. “Isn’t this like a prime opportunity for someone like you, poor defenseless women, out alone in the dark?” I spat at him.

“No baby, I like my women willing and aware.” He said, slowly advancing on me.

I stepped my bare foot back trying distance my ovaries from his body, not noticing the glass surrounding me, a sharp pain erupted in my left foot.

“Shit!” I cursed. I lifted my foot to see blood spurting out of it.

“Don’t move baby, you’ll make it worse.” Cade strode forward, glass crunching under his boots, before I realized what he was doing I am in his arms.

“What do you think you are doing?” I screeched while squirming and slapping at him. “Put me down this instant” I commanded, trying to sound firm.

“Quit moving.” Cade opened the door, somehow directing us into the kitchen.

“Where’s you first aid kit?” He asked.

I ignored him. “Get out of my house and put me down, or I am calling the police.” I threatened, trying to deny that the proximity of his body was turning me on. I should be committed, this stranger turns up on my porch in the middle of the night and somehow I managed to get horny.

“Now how are you going to call the police when I have you in my arms, seems to me that’s a very empty threat.” Cade gave me a squeeze, his face far too close to mine.

For a second I forgot everything but the attraction between us. I knew he felt it too because the humor on his face was gone and with a primal stare. He leaned in, nose brushing mine, preparing to kiss me.

“Fuck.” He whispered, face inches away from mine, I felt his warm breath on my nose. He pulled back and I let out a little moan. I clamped my hand over my mouth and began to regain coherent thought.

“Babe. First aid kit. Tell me where it is.” Cade ordered, voice hoarse.

“Cabinet above the sink.” I replied automatically, my brain still foggy from the almost kiss.

“Right.” He set me down on our kitchen island. Cade then lifted my feet up so I was fully up on the counter, brushing my bare leg. I gazed into his grey eyes and then back to his hand, which was resting on my upper thigh. I then glimpsed down at my foot, which was leaking a fair bit of blood. Cade followed my eyes, his face turned hard, focus moving to the first aid kit.

I regarded at him from behind, his faded jeans fitting him like a glove, I checked out his ass, it was pure male perfection. Then I got a look at his cut. It’s like someone splashed ice water on me. What the fuck is going on? How have I let him in my house? A stranger and a biker! A biker who I was far too attracted to and was loosing all sensible thought around. I swung my legs down, jumping off the counter, preparing to grab the phone, or maybe a weapon of some sort. I was not prepared for the blinding pain in my heel, the pressure I was putting on it pushing the glass further in.

“Ouch” I hissed.

“Whoah there sweetheart.” I felt Cades hands at my waist, lifting me back up into my previous position. I ignored the tingle where his hands met my skin.

“Probably not the best idea, trying to walk with glass embedded in your foot.” He pointed out.

“Well I think it’s probably a worse idea having a biker, whom I don’t know in my house in the middle of the night, so I was going for the lesser of two evils.” I hissed back.

“Now baby I ain’t evil, well not at the moment anyway.” His eyes flared. “I am not going to hurt you.” He told me firmly and moved to the end of the counter to look and my foot, bending down to get a closer look. His hand gently touched the injured area and I flinched away from his touch. Grey eyes met mine. “I told you I’m not going to hurt you, gonna get you fixed up.”

For some strange reason, maybe the wine or more likely blood loss, I believed him, relaxing into his touch.

“That’s it baby.” He watched me for a second then went back to inspecting my foot. “Yup that’s in there pretty good.” He muttered while grabbing some tweezers and antibacterial wipes out of the kit. “Now this is going to hurt.”

“I think I can handle it.” I informed him.

“It’s in pretty deep and I will have to use anti bacterial spray and that stuff hurts like a bitch.” He said while studying my first aid kit.
“Yes I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of experience in disinfecting, with stab wounds and bullet holes.” I scowled at the top of his head.

“Oh yeah, baby you can only imagine what I have to deal with. I just don’t want to hurt you.” His rugged face was surprisingly tender inspecting my face while cradling my foot in his two giant hands. You know what they say about big hands…wait Gwen focus!

“I’ve had worse.” I snipped, failing to hide the slight shudder in my voice from the closeness of this male who has a disturbing effect on me. I focused on my foot, which hurt like a bitch, but I suffered through it and tried to take my mind off it by interrogating Cade.

“What in hell are you doing outside my house in the middle of the fricking night anyway?” I asked, crossing my arms, mentally congratulating myself for bringing up such a sensible topic.

“Just doing my part for the neighborhood watch baby.” He replied without looking up.

“Yeah and pigs might fly. Seriously why are you skulking outside my house? For the second time in 24 hours.” Even as I relayed this information I realized I should be peeing myself right now, this was like stalker behavior 101. “And don’t call me baby.” I commanded as an afterthought.

“My buddy lives across the road, well for one more night at least. I was picking something up tonight, happened to see you on the porch.” He explained, sounding far too reasonable.

“I think my stalker theory is more believable.”

He didn’t reply, I stared intently at the top of his head, his midnight black hair falling around his face and to his shoulders. I didn’t normally like any kind of long hair on a guy, but man he worked it. His broad shoulders and muscles strained his shirt, thick veins almost pulsing out of his arms. The tattoos covering his arms captivated me for a moment. I thought about those arms wrapped around me, feeling his electric touch all over my body, the wetness between my legs came back. What the fuck is wrong with me? Until now, the thought of any man touching me was repulsive and scared the shit out of me. But it was like my body was finally waking up, with a vengeance. The irony was not lost on me that it was yet another dangerous man wearing a leather cut who turned me on. I had a serious problem. Why can’t I be attracted to a nice accountant with a paunch and a bald spot, someone whose worst crime would be to fashion?

During my mental turmoil Cade had finished nursing me and was now stroking my ankle, the animal look back on his face. I realized I was sitting on a counter, in a slinky kimono with an even slinkier nightie underneath. Damn my addiction to seductive nightwear.

“Baby.” Cade growled, the primal tone of his voice sent shivers down my spine. He straightened and I swung by legs back down as he moved to stand in front of me, stopping between my legs, his crotch dangerously close to mine. Gulp. He kept staring at me as his hand cupped my cheek.

“You are fucking beautiful.” He whispered.

I stared back at him dumbly, unable to think of anything to say.
Work brain!

“So god damn beautiful I want to kill whoever put all that fear behind those eyes.” He declared fiercely.

I jumped up, his words waking me from my mental coma. How could he say this? He doesn’t know me, we haven’t even had a proper conversion.

“You need to leave. Like now.” I ordered coldly.

“Baby…”

“I told you don’t call me that.” I snapped. “Now I thank you for helping me with my foot even though it was your fault that I cut it in the first place. I would appreciate it if you would get out of my house and do not come by here again.” I was rather proud at how even and authoritative my voice sounded.

“I’m sorry about your foot baby I really am, but I am not sorry that it meant I got to touch your skin, or get close enough to know how fucking good you smell.” Shivers ran down my spine yet again. He didn’t miss my reaction; he tugged my head towards him, his mouth inches away.

“And fuck if I am going to taste you baby, every inch of you. But not tonight, you need to get some sleep and rest your foot. But I will be round here again, not in your kitchen but in your bed.” His voice was firm, he was someone who was used to getting what he wanted.

I yanked my head away from his, fighting both fear and arousal. “I am not some biker groupie who will drop her panties at your say so. I have something that you a probably not familiar with women you fuck, something called self-respect. So don’t flatter yourself into thinking I am attracted to you, and I don’t get how you think it’s appropriate to say something that vulgar to a woman you barely know, but trust me it’s not.”