There was no finesse, no slow striptease. My uniform was stuck to me, and although I was wearing a bra and panties underneath, I didn’t take it off. Every layer was a shield, the only thing between me and heartbreak.
“Come here.” He crooked his finger at me, holding a towel. I didn’t move, and my mouth went dry. “Sweetheart? You okay?”
A quiet sob escaped before I could stop it. It was raw, unfamiliar, tangled in longing I didn’t understand. I froze, not from fear but yearning. Cactus stood in his boxers, rainwater dripping, and I wanted to be so close to him to quiet the ache.
“Hey.” He was standing in front of me, but all I could see was his chest. Cactus’s fingers brushed my cheek, then tipped my chin gently until I met his eyes.
“It’s not fear,” I said, trying to explain. “It’s…” I didn’t have the words. He was a man, and I’d only been with boys. This was the weight of wanting to be enough for him. To provide everything he needed, like he already had for me.
“I get it,” he said, bringing the towel up and scrunching the ends of my hair. “If you say no, nothing is going to happen.” He dragged the towel down my neck and over my chest. “I’m a man, and I can control my urges.”
He kissed my collarbone, lingering for a moment, before moving to dry off my arm. He did the same thing on the other side. I let out another breath-like sound before throwing myself in his arms. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried, but my tears mixed with the rain, running down my cheeks.
“Who hurt you?” he whispered into the stillness of the room, holding me tightly.
“No one. Just a lot of close calls.” I dug my nails into his back, trying to transfer my pain. Cactus was strong enough to bear my sins. “I…I’ve never been with someone who didn’t use sex as a weapon.” My forehead rubbed against his sternum. “This isn’t fear.” My lips pressed against his skin. “This is all the times I was told I wasn’t good enough. It’s irrational, but you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen.”
The muscles in his arms twitched as he chuckled. My forehead bounced with the vibrations from the sound. “Trust me. You say no, I dry you off, and we watch TV in bed.” He tipped my chin up again to gaze into my eyes. “Change your mind? Say the word, and the outcome will be the same. TV in bed.”
It was the promise I needed to hear. “I’m not sure. I want to…but—“
“TV it is,” he murmured. He didn’t sound frustrated. It was more of an acceptance, and that hurt more than anger ever could. “Don’t worry. When it’s right, I’ll be the one who can’t get enough of you.”
I tried to laugh, but another sob escaped.
“Let me help you with this. You might feel better dry.”
I nodded, though my fingers curled tighter against his back, not ready to let go. He unhooked the bottom of the corset, working his way up. Cactus picked up a dry towel, dragging it across my shoulders, down to the soft dip between my breasts, and across my stomach, hips, and thighs. He treated me as something fragile. Beautiful but breakable.
Leading me by my hand, he made sure I was comfortable, tucking me in. I felt small, hollowed out, as if he let go, I’d spin out of control. He slid in next to me, holding me against his side as we listened to the rain.
We never turned the TV on. Just lay there, trading secrets and stealing kisses as the rain danced on the roof above us. For the first time, I didn’t feel like I was going to lose myself to please someone else.
***
Cactus
“I know what I saw.” Tumbleweed hit the edge of the table with his fist. “Full-face helmet. Dark clothes. It was them.”
Tumbleweed had gone out to the nearest gas station early this morning in the rain for more chew. He said he had seen nothing at first, but when he’d left, the gang had surrounded his bike. When he’d made it back to the clubhouse, he’d hollered for Scorpion to call a meeting.
So, Scorpion was listening to Tumbleweed instead of me? Fine. I didn’t give a fuck. I’d done my job, but Tumbleweed had been relentless before sunrise. Sending him to voicemail hadn’t helped. The bastard had kept calling, one right after another, until I finally picked up.
The executive team had been sitting in our seats for hours. There was no point in going around in circles over the same bullshit if we weren’t going to do anything about it. Fuck this. I could have been lying in bed next to Roxy, warm.
“I’m telling you, fuckers. It was them. They boxed in my bike, waiting for me to walk out.” Tumbleweed moved the piece of chew in his cheek to the other side, spitting into an empty water bottle.
“It’s the closest gas station to the clubhouse. Do you think they were waiting for one of us?” Flash shifted in his seat, writing some notes down for club records none of us would ever see.
“Yes,” I answered. “They came for me too, but no one was interested when I tried to warn you. Roxy said they ate lunch at the saloon yesterday.” I filled in the details. “They’re here, and we’re going to be dragged into the middle of a cartel war.”
“When did you say something?” Aces looked at Scorpion as they sat at opposite ends of the table.
“You fucking kidding? You were busy playing pool.” The mounting danger was inevitable, and we needed to be prepared, but they had been too busy playing with their dicks.
“They were at the saloon?” Scorpion finally said something, and that made me livid all over again. He’d ignored me when I’d called about the hijacked shipment. When I’d walked into the clubhouse to warn him, he’d humiliated some chick. Now, he was concerned. He should have been tearing through every contact we had, pulling favors for information. Fuck.
I said nothing, shooting him a look of my own. I didn’t want to fight, but I didn’t understand him. He’d worked tirelessly to build the club into what it was today. Our connections, the runs, the club’s security were all because of Scorpion. How could he let the club crumble to the ground, nothing more than dust?
