“I’m not injured everywhere.” The deep rumble of his voice made her skin tingle.
“Seriously?” 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 the top of your ass cheeks, and a damn tight top that doesn’t hide what you’re thinking.” He leaned forward in the chair, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. “And nothing underneath.”
Dawn’s breath hitched 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 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, baby. 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 so close she could feel his heat through her clothes. Dawn breathed in his scent of blood and grass, mixed with 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.”
“You got the nicest booty I ever seen.” Cade slid a hand down her hip, and gave her ass a squeeze. Before she could move away, his finger was inside her shorts, stroking over the bare skin of her folds. She gasped as 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?
“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 Brethren are planning to patch over to the Jacks. You know what that means.”
“The Black Jacks could 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 was 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?
Cade stiffened when she reached for his belt. “He called an executive board meeting for eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not surprised.” The executive board—consisting of a president, vice president, secretary, sergeant-at-arms, treasurer, road captain and two members-at-large—governed all outlaw clubs. The board made all the key decisions about the club and reported back to the members in weekly mandatory “church” meetings attended only by full-patch members of the MC.
Cade pushed himself to standing and unzipped his fly, wincing when he tried pushing off his jeans. Dawn gently moved his hands away from her body, taking a moment to collect herself, 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 clothes, seemingly unembarrassed to be standing in her kitchen, wearing only black boxers and sporting a sizable erection.
“Dawn…” Cade’s voice cracked even as his gaze burned into her. Focused. Intent.
She should get up. Kneeling in front of him like this was sending all the wrong messages … for both of them. He was hurt. Badly. His injuries needed tending, and she didn’t want this. Didn’t want to open this door again. And yet she couldn’t pull herself away.