The Cut by Carol Lynne: Kings of Bedlam MC Series, Book One (9 page)

“Sure.” He kept his eyes on the road and off the bared legs beside him. For three days, those fucking legs had teased him. Although he’d seen her naked on the night of the attack, he hadn’t been in the position to truly worship her body the way it deserved. He wanted to touch and lick every inch of her sun-bronzed skin while she moaned underneath him.
Fuck.
He released the steering wheel and dropped his right hand to his lap in an attempt to hide his erection. Not to brag, but he was a big man, and when his body decided to respond sexually, there was no way in hell to successfully hide it.

“Stake?”

“Yeah?” He waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he glanced her way.

“How long before I heal enough?” she asked.

Since he hadn’t seen her wounds since the first night, he wasn’t sure how to answer. He returned his attention to the gravel road. “I don’t know. Bruises can take a while to disappear completely, but the swelling is pretty much gone already. Why? Are you hurting?”

She shook her head. “Because I want you to touch me, and you said I needed to heal first.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “It’s not your body I’m worried about. I thought I made that clear. I just don’t want to push the physical stuff until I know you’re ready for it. Freaking you out isn’t something I’m willing to do.”

Again, silence greeted him. He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he kept his mouth shut and wondered if he’d ever understand Santana’s moods.

* * * *

After packing her own clothes, Santana started on her mom’s closet. Although they wore the same size, they’d always had very different tastes. Ellie had dressed for Smash, but Santana didn’t have anyone to impress, so she chose to be comfortable. She glanced down at her old ratty jean shorts. Yep, comfort.

“So what’s up with the blue tarp on the roof?” Stake asked from the bedroom doorway.

Her hand closed around the black dress she’d been looking for. “The roof leaks.”
Duh.

“I figured that much, but why haven’t you hired someone to fix it?”

“We tried. A few years ago, Mom gave me permission to sell Dad’s bike so we could have the roof replaced. The guys who were going to do it said they needed half the money up front to buy supplies. Unfortunately, they never came back to do the work.” It had been an expensive lesson, but one that she’d never forget.

“That’s bullshit. Did you report them?”

“Tried, but the cops said they couldn’t do anything since I didn’t have a contract.” She held the dress in front of her and studied herself in the mirror. The jersey dress was short, but at least the neckline wasn’t as low as some of the other dresses and shirts in her mom’s closet. “Anyway, that’s the last time I trusted anyone in this town.”

Stake stepped into the room and leaned against the wall beside the closet. “You trust me,” he pointed out.

“Mostly.” She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she wasn’t positive that she truly trusted him. Not that it was the same, but she supposed she felt closer to him than anyone. However, even though he had been nothing but kind, she knew she couldn’t count on him to stick around. He’d left before, and once he realized how fucked up she was, he’d probably leave again. Funny, she was fucked up because she wasn’t fucked up over what happened with Gordon. She might be withdrawn, but she wasn’t stupid. Any other woman who’d been through what Gordon had done to her would be traumatized. What exactly did it say about her that she didn’t feel what everyone expected her to feel?

In an attempt to change the subject, she held the dress up. “I need to try this on.”

He shook his head and moved to pull several dresses, skirts and blouses from Ellie’s closet. “You’ll have to take these with us. I want to be long gone before they release Gordon.”

Santana studied the dress in her hand. She had much bigger breasts than her mom, but she didn’t have anything else that would be appropriate for a funeral. Perhaps Stake knew she didn’t have anything that looked nice. Maybe that’s why he’d pulled the clothes from her mom’s closet. “Okay.”

“Is there anything else in here you want to take with us?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She handed the dress to him before gathering several photos from her mom’s dresser. She stared down at the simple thin gold band that sat on the bedside table and suddenly felt guilty that her mom hadn’t been wearing it when they took her away. The ring hadn’t fit for months, but Ellie always insisted it be within sight of the bed. Santana scooped it up and shoved it into the pocket of her shorts.

“I think that’s all.” She glanced at Stake. “We’ll come back here again, won’t we?”

“Sure. After we settle the situation with Gordon and the cops, we’ll come back.” He took the pictures from her and left the room.

Before joining him, she ducked back into her bedroom. She wasn’t sure why she felt sad at the thought of leaving the house. The air conditioning didn’t work, the roof leaked and she’d had more beatings than hugs in the place, but it had been the only home she’d ever known.

* * * *

Stake filled a galvanized bucket with ice and bottle of beer before retrieving the marinated steaks from the refrigerator. “I thought we could eat outside on the porch if that’s okay?”

“Sure.” Santana paused in the process of stirring her homemade potato salad.

He nodded toward the living room. “There’s a table cloth in the linen closet.”

“Okay. I’ll find it, and be out in a minute.”

Carrying the bucket and platter of meat, he returned to the back porch. He’d spent the majority of the day, since returning from Santana’s house, hiding on the porch or in the garage. It was a cowardly thing to do, and he knew it. But, damn, the constant need for restraint was wearing on him.

The door opened, and he turned to watch Santana shake out the tablecloth. Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t take his eyes off her tits. Goddamn, those things were big, beautiful and just begging for his mouth.

She cleared her throat as she reached for the hem of her tight T-shirt. “I’ll be happy to give you a closer look.”

Before he could force out a token protest, she pulled her shirt over her head. Wearing nothing but a pair of short denim shorts and a simple white bra, her body left him speechless. He made a mental note to buy her some girly underwear next time he rode into the city, not that she needed it to look sexy, because
fuck
. He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Those tits deserved to be covered by the finest lace money could buy.

“Tell me you’re ready for this.” He tried to keep the pleading out of his voice, but knew he’d failed miserably. For days, he’d tried to put his finger on what it was about Santana that drew him to her. She’d needed him like no one ever had, and he’d be a liar if he said it didn’t make him feel special. No one had ever looked at him the way she did. Sure, he was used to expressions of fear or lust on people’s faces when they saw him, but she looked at him like he genuinely mattered to her. It was a heady feeling.

“I’ve been waiting for years for you to notice me,” she confessed. She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra but didn’t shrug out of it. Instead, she held her hands in front of her. “That being said, I think I’m the one who should ask if you’re ready for this.”

He closed the distance between them and pulled her roughly against his chest. He took her mouth in a savage kiss, thrusting his tongue deep as he fought like hell against his body’s needs. Christ. If he took her to bed, would she end up resenting him for it?

She put enough space between them to drop her bra to the porch floor, leaving her bare tits unencumbered.

“Fuck, bug, what’re you doing to me?” he asked as he reached to cup her breasts.
Perfect.
She was so fucking perfect that her bountiful breasts overflowed his hands. He’d been with other women with big tits, but there was a huge difference between fake and the real thing, and goddamned if Santana’s weren’t the real thing.

He blindly used his foot to hook the leg of one of the outdoor chairs and pulled it close enough to sit. The new position put her puckered nipples at the perfect height for his mouth. “It’s sick how often I’ve thought about these.”

She buried her fingers in his hair as he swirled his tongue around the dark pink, eraser-sized nipple. He flicked the pebbled nub with the tip of his tongue before latching on.
Oh, fuck.
The taste of her skin was everything he’d known it would be. He drew the nipple into his mouth and sucked, his cock throbbing with each moan that erupted from her delicate throat.

Before he could stop himself, his hands went to the zipper of her barely-there denim shorts. “Need to taste that sweet pussy,” he panted, releasing her nipple.

“Please.” She pushed her shorts down before climbing on top of the table.

Still seated, he insinuated himself between her spread thighs, unable to tear his gaze away from the prettiest pussy ever created. “Fuck, bug. Goddamn. I want to crawl inside your cunt and eat you from the inside out.”

Stake nearly came in his jeans when she reached between her legs and spread the lips of her pussy. “Touch me,” she begged.

It took one swipe of her clit with his tongue to know he was forever hooked. Christ. He lapped up her sweet juices while he fumbled to get his jeans open.

The crunching sound of tires on the gravel driveway felt like a bucket of cold water being poured over him. He stood so fast, the chair fell to the ground. “Get into the house,” he ordered, helping Santana from the table. “Don’t come out unless I call for you.”

“Who is it?” she asked, gathering her clothes.

“I don’t know.” He zipped his jeans but left his shirt lying on the porch. Whoever the fuck had interrupted better have a damn good reason. He walked Santana to the door and opened it for her before giving her a deep kiss. “Go on. I’ll get rid of them.”

She nodded before ducking inside.

“Back here,” he called, taking the burned meat off the grill.

“Evening,” Jack said, rounding the side of the house. He was followed closely by the asshole Ranger Stake had met at Santana’s.

“What’s up?” Stake asked.

Jack shook his head in sympathy as he stared at the inedible steaks. “We came by to question Santana Rogers, again.”

“Why?” Stake crossed his arms over his bare chest. No way in the fucking world did he want her to relive that night again.

“Conflicting stories on what happened the night of the stabbing,” Jack replied.

“You mean the night of the attack,” Stake corrected.

Jack nodded his head, acknowledging the difference.

“I know she’s been through a rough ordeal, but I need Santana to answer his charges,” Jack said.

“She’s already told you exactly what happened,” Stake reminded the Ranger.

“Yes, but it’s not a cut and dry case, so I need all the help she can give me. I thought maybe she’d remembered something else since that night.” Jack resettled his cowboy hat. “Would you please bring her out here?”

“Come on out here, bug,” he said without the need to raise his voice. He knew she’d been listening on the other side of the door. “Upset her, and we’re gonna have a problem,” he warned the two Rangers.

“Is that a threat?” Thatcher, the other Ranger took a step forward.

Jack held up his hand to silence his partner. “Just a few questions.”

The backdoor opened, and Santana stepped out of the house, her clothes in place, sans bra. Stake’s gaze went straight to the tits he’d enjoyed only moments earlier. “What kind of information do you need from me?” Santana asked, moving to stand at Stake’s side.

He wrapped his arm protectively around her waist and pulled her closer.

Jack sighed and looked out over the barren landscape. “Gordon claims there was absolutely no attempted rape involved in the altercation between the two of you. I’m hoping you can give me evidence otherwise.”

“Like what?” Santana asked.

Stake felt her slight tremble and wanted to put an end to the interrogation, but knew the law wasn’t on his side, never had been.

“Pete Gordon claims he went over to your place to tell you that it was against the law to burn garbage and you went crazy and stabbed him with a stick. According to him, he had to hit you to get you to release your hold on the weapon. That’s when you ran into the house, and when he went after you with plans to arrest you for assault, you stabbed him.”

Stake stared at the Texas Ranger, trying to determine whether or not the man actually believed Gordon’s story.

“That’s bullshit!” Santana yelled. “I hadn’t burned anything when he attacked me. Are you honestly going to believe he was hiding in the shadows of my backyard just waiting for me to set fire to something?” She shook her head. “That right there should tell you he’s a lying sonofabitch.” Jack cleared his throat and flipped through his notebook. “Any distinguishing marks on the lower half of his body that you could identify?”

“You mean other than that stubby cock of his that couldn’t get hard?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack replied, clearly uneasy.

“No. I tried not to look at the thing.” Santana stared up at Stake with tears in her eyes. “He’s going to get away with it, isn’t he?”