Rough Justice (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #1)(115)
A smile tugged the corner of Cade’s battered mouth as he undid his belt. “Will I be alone?”
“Condition you’re in, you will most definitely be alone.” She eased herself between his parted legs to help him take off his T-shirt, freezing when he winced at her touch. “Well, that just settles it.” She carefully pulled the shirt up his body. “I’m not about to take advantage of an injured man.”
“I’m not injured everywhere.” The deep rumble of his voice made her skin tingle.
“Christ, Cade.” Dawn swallowed hard as her hands followed the shirt up his torso, her fingers brushing over heated skin and hard muscle. God, he was magnificent, all taut pecs and rippling abs. Even the bruises couldn’t mar the perfection of his body. “How can you be thinking of sex at a time like this?”
His voice dropped, husky and low. “‘cause you’re standin’ between my legs wearing a tiny pair of shorts that only cover your ass cheeks, and a damn tight top that doesn’t hide what you’re thinkin.” He leaned forward in the chair, so close she could feel his breath on her skin.
“And nothing underneath.”
Dawn’s breath caught in her throat and her blood heated, thundered through her veins. Until this moment, focused on Cade’s injuries, her attire had been totally irrelevant. “How do you know I have nothing underneath?”
Cade traced lazy circles up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, pausing at edge of her cotton PJ shorts. Dawn stilled, her breaths coming in quick shallow pants as her brain clouded with desire. It was always this way with Cade. A chemistry so potent she was surprised they didn’t combust.
“Let’s see.” He slid his finger inside her shorts and stroked along the sensitive crease at the top of her thigh, sending a zing of electricity straight to her core.
“Hmmm. Can’t tell. Spread for me, babe. Let me in.”
Her face flushed. God, the things he said did all the wrong things to the right parts of her body. “Cade … this isn’t the time. You’re hurt. Let me look after you.”
He grabbed her hips, pulling her close she could feel the heat of his breath through her clothes. Dawn breathed in his scent of blood and grass, mixed with the heady aroma of leather and manly musk, and a delicious shiver ran up her spine.
“You are taking care of me,” he said. “Man gets in a fight. Hurts all over. He wants to feel good. He wants something to make him forget the pain. And you–all soft and sexy and smellin’ like flowers–will do the trick.”
“I thought you came here for help.” Dawn made a token effort at resistance and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize it was a booty call.”
Cade slid a hand down her hip, and then his finger was inside her shorts, stroking over the bare skin of her folds. Moisture flooded her sex and her nipples tightened beneath her thin cotton tank. Had she really thought things would be different from every other time they’d been together when he walked in the door?
“Naughty girl,” he whispered. “You go to bed without your panties and someone might take advantage.”
“Cade.” She pulled back just enough to dislodge his questing finger, at once disconcerted and aroused. “Why did you come here?”
His shoulders slumped and he leaned back in the chair, his easy capitulation more disturbing than his injuries. “The minute I got outta there, I called Jagger. Told him what had happened. The Wolverines are planning to patch over to the Jacks. You know what that means.”
“They’ll destroy the Sinners.” She pulled the shirt over his head, biting her lip when she saw the extent of his injuries. Not an inch of his torso had been spared, his skin a mass of swelling and bruises, with a few surface knife slashes across his abdomen, below the fabulous tat of blue wings and twin pistons across his chest. And were those boot prints on his side?
Dawn steeled herself to calm. She couldn’t help him if she panicked. And she’d seen worse injuries when she’d been with the Wolverines. Hell, Jimmy had given her worse injuries, and she survived. “What did Jagger say?”
Cade stiffened when she reached for his belt. “He called a church meeting for eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not surprised.” Biker “church” meetings were usually held once a week in most MCs, or in extraordinary situations. Attendance of all full-patch brothers was mandatory. Anyone without a patch wasn’t allowed in the door.
Cade pushed himself to standing and unzipped his fly, but when he tried to push off his jeans he winced. Dawn gently moved his hands off his hips, giving him a moment to collect himself, before she said, “Let me.”
Licking her dry lips, she eased his jeans over his narrow hips, dropping to her knees in front of him to slide them over his powerful thighs and muscular calves.
Without taking his gaze off her, Cade stepped out of his jeans, seemingly unconcerned to be standing in her kitchen, wearing only black boxers and sporting a sizeable erection.
For the briefest, most inexplicable moment, Dawn wanted nothing more than to pull off his boxers and take him in her mouth. He’d never let her take him that way when they’d been together. She’d held him, marveling at the feel of silky smooth skin over hard steel, and teased the tip of his cock with her tongue, but when she tried to go further, he had pulled away, saying he had a better idea. And he always did.