Beyond the Cut (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #2)

“Performance is never an issue.” He whipped off the blanket to reveal the erection tenting his briefs. Apparently his cock could withstand the effects of excessive alcohol consumption and bone-numbing pain in the presence of a beautiful woman in ass-revealing shorts and a skimpy tank top.

Dawn’s gaze lingered below his waist and her cheeks flushed as she crossed the room toward him. “I’m not someone who functions well without sleep.” She helped him off the couch and he leaned against her shoulder, trying to decide which was worse: the ache in his balls, or the damn cuts and bruises.

Her body was soft and warm against him, trembling as she tried to bear his weight. So delicate and yet so strong. Beautiful. Compassionate. And damn tempting in that little outfit. How had he ever let her get away? And how could he resist her now?

“I’m not someone who functions well without a good-night kiss.” In one swift move he turned her to face him, then bent down and covered her mouth with his, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her against his body before she could protest.

She softened against him with a sigh, as if she’d been waiting for him to make a move, her lips parting for the sweep of his tongue, her nipples hard against his chest. She smelled of flowers and sunshine and antiseptic. She tasted of mint and honey, and oh God, she tasted of sex.

His groin tightened and his cock throbbed, pressed tight against her belly. When she moaned and slid her hands around his neck, deepening the kiss, he truly thought he would lose control. But Dawn wasn’t like the other women he’d had in his bed. One night wouldn’t be enough. Plus, he’d given his word, and a biker’s word was his bond.

Drawing in a ragged breath, he released her. Dawn staggered back a step, her face flushed, lips swollen from his kiss, confusion wrinkling the smoothness of her brow.

“Cade.” Her voice caught as she whispered his name. A plea. A warning.

“On second thought…” He gritted his teeth against the tightening in his groin. If he climbed into bed with her, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Not with adrenaline still streaming through his veins, stirred up by her gentle touch, her barely concealed curves, and the memories of the two nights they had spent together. “I think I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She stared at him, nibbling her lip, then swallowed hard. “Probably a good idea. I mean … nothing has changed.”

What did she mean “nothing has changed”? Everything had changed. He knew about her kids and about Mad Dog and what he intended to do. He understood now why she had pushed him away. Just like his mom, she needed protection, but couldn’t ask. Maybe this was another chance to do it right. And this time, when he walked away, the person he wanted to protect wouldn’t die.

“Right?” She stared at him, her beautiful eyes liquid with desire.

“Right,” he lied.

Who was he kidding? He wanted her more than any woman he had wanted in his life. He was hurting and he wanted her. Her every touch would be agony, and still he wanted her. His want was a living thing inside him, hungry, clawing at his insides, desperate to be free.

He couldn’t give in to the want.

He wouldn’t succumb to temptation.

Even if it killed him.

And given the current state of his cock, it just might.





FOUR

I will stand ready to help any biker who truly needs my help.

SINNER’S TRIBE CREED

Silence.

Cade shrugged on his cut and turned to face his brothers, seated around the table where they’d convened for an emergency executive board meeting this morning. Revealing the defiled tattoo on his back hadn’t been easy, but Dawn had treated the slashes that went through the symbol of his brotherhood last night with a quiet understanding that made this moment slightly more bearable.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Zane, the Sinner VP, pounded his fist on the large oak table, carved with the same Sinner’s Tribe patch that the Brethren had butchered on Cade’s back. “Mad Dog is a dead man.”

Dax, official secretary and unofficial torturer, nodded in agreement, as did T-Rex, the junior patch member-at-large. Sparky, the road captain, joined in with a “hear hear.”

Cade didn’t bother looking over at Shaggy or Gunner. The senior patch member-at-large and the club’s sergeant-at-arms, like Zane, lived and breathed for the club, and this kind of dishonor screamed for Sinner justice. No questions. No mercy. No regrets.

“I say we adjourn the meeting and go now.” A war vet and Sinner since before Jagger’s time, Shaggy had earned his road name because of his full beard and unkempt long hair? now almost fully gray, that he claimed had never been trimmed in twenty years.

T-Rex snorted a laugh and gestured to the patch covering Shaggy’s left eye. “That’s ’cause you only got one eye and you can’t see in the dark when normal bikers do their killing.”