OWNED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blood Warriors MC)

by Naomi West

  He shook his head, trying to clear it.

  This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? To have her in his arms, to feel her clinging close to his body? But, this wasn't how he'd wanted it, another voice said from deep inside him, a voice he knew came from his heart, from his sense of honor and conscience. He hadn't wanted to have to rescue her like this, from an abusive relationship. He'd wanted her on his own terms, all those years ago.

  It wasn't that she was damaged, or anything like that. That hadn't even registered in his mind. Instead, it was that tonight was supposed to be her wedding night. She was originally going to have been with her husband, not with some lowlife biker in a clubhouse on the outskirts of town. Sure, Cutter had picked her up on the side of the road, and he was hiding her. But that just meant he shouldn't have been doing this. He shouldn't have been taking advantage of her.

  “What's wrong?” Liona asked from beside him. “You okay?”

  He shook his head and sat up in the bed. “I'm sorry,” he blurted out, not thinking. He looked off, away from her, into a corner of his room. He couldn't face her right now. “I'm so sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?” she asked, sitting up in bed and putting her arm around.

  “I'm sorry,” he said again, breathing deep and trying to control his anger at himself.

  “For what?” she asked carefully.

  Her touch felt amazing. It felt perfect. That wasn't what he needed right now. This wasn't what he needed. He'd been free of these thoughts for years, he'd traveled down this road and come back form it once before.

  “We shouldn't have slept together,” he whispered, barely loud enough for even him to hear.

  “What?” she asked, still whispering but louder.

  “We shouldn't have slept together,” he repeated, this time loud enough for her to hear it clearly, but still not loud enough to be heard through the walls. “I'm sorry, I should never have taken advantage of you like that.”

  “Take advantage of me?” she asked, pulling him closer, her hand over his bicep. She shook her head. “You didn't take advantage of me, Desmond.”

  “You were supposed to be getting married today,” he said, his voice firm, pained. He was angry with himself, though, not with her. He went to get up from the sweat soaked sheets. “I never should have done this. I should have stayed on the couch. And my name's Cutter.”

  She tried to hold him back on the bed, but he just shook her off.

  “What? What are you doing?” she asked as he searched on the floor for his underwear.

  This was a weird turn of events, and would almost be funny if it weren't for the circumstances. Here he was, trying to find his underwear on the floor of his own bunk, so he could go sleep on the couch. All because of a woman he hadn't seen in nearly a decade, coming back into his life unexpectedly.

  “Are you leaving me?” she asked, sadness entering her voice.

  This was just getting worse and worse. Not only was he taking advantage of her, but he was hurting her all over again, and now in new and different ways than before. Now, he was abandoning her. He found his boxers after a few seconds of searching and slipped them back on. “I can't sleep in here,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

  “You are leaving me, then,” she said flatly. The sound of oncoming tears was building up in her voice.

  He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay more than anything he'd ever wanted. But he was afraid. Afraid of what she might think, and afraid of what emotions this all might awaken in him. He shook his head again.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. “I just ... I shouldn't have done this. This isn't about you. It's about me.”

  She looked away, brushed off a tear from her eye. “Fine,” she said. “Whatever. Just, come back to bed. Okay? I wouldn't be able to sleep all night with you out there on the couch by yourself. Or, at least let me take the couch.”

  Sighing, he stopped and looked at her.

  “We don't have to cuddle, or hold each other, or anything,” she said, her voice still full of sadness and resignation. “I just don't want to feel like I kicked you out of your own bed. Especially not after what you did for me today.”

  He gritted his teeth and looked away from her, to the Vanguard flag hanging on his wall. “Fine,” he said. “I'll stay. Okay?”

  She scooted over, making plenty of room for him.

  Deep down, a part of him knew that he'd regret this. Or, at the very least, he knew that it would change things for them. Honestly, though, he didn't know if that was for the better, or not. Change was a powerful force, and it could be one for good, or for ill. He walked back over to the bed and sat down in the spot he'd just left. He kept his briefs on and swung his legs up onto the mattress.

  Still naked beside him, Liona slid beneath the covers, pulled them up tight to her neck.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours of staring at his ceiling and mulling over his track record of very poor decisions when it came to Liona Copeland, he drifted off to sleep.

  A few hours later, though, he awoke to the sounds of soft crying. She was on her side, crying into her pillow, her back turned to him. He didn't know what to do. He felt like whatever he did, he'd somehow make it worse. He cursed himself silently as she continued to cry. Whether he still loved her, or not. Whether she was supposed to have married that piece of shit Wyland today, or not. Whether they'd just had sex, or not, ...she was still his friend. And, at least with their history, and the friendship she showed to him while they were back in high school, he owed her some semblance of comfort and compassion.

  He reached out, touched her shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered, pulling her towards, “come here.”

  His gesture did nothing to stop her tears, but she rolled over anyways and pulled herself against him. Her naked body pressed into his form, seeming like she was made to perfectly fit against him. Cutter wrapped his arm around her, pulled her tighter against him, and let her cry on his chest. Her tears fell, dappling his black-inked tattoos, and he just grasped her closer. Soon, the tears stopped, and her breathing went from shallow and fast to deep and measured. She was asleep.

  This was what he'd tried to avoid by sleeping on the couch. Cutter began to feel a change in himself. He frowned inwardly, cursing and shaming himself for having walked right into what he saw coming from a mile away.

  Chapter 16

  Liona

  Liona finally drifted off to sleep after Cutter had cradled her in his arms. She awoke a few hours later, though, to an empty bed, and dim sunlight coming in through the bathroom windows. Not sure of what to do this early in the morning with an empty clubhouse, and Cutter not around to guide her, she wrapped the covers tighter around her and tried to drift back off to sleep. When sleep did not come, she was left alone with her thoughts.

  She wasn't sure what to feel about Cutter. All those years ago, he'd been Dusty. A squirmy, insecure kid. Sure, they'd had a kiss, and it had been good. He’d been the squirrelly best friend, the sidekick.

  Now, though, she didn't know what to think. She'd never had sex like that before, not even during the best days with Wyland before everything went south. She felt herself getting excited just remembering what it felt like to be held by him, how protected and safe she felt with him, but still like she was living a little on the edge while doing it. It was such a strangely wonderful feeling that almost took her right back to the moment when he'd finished inside her.

  Last night had been intense, that was for sure. But, she didn't know if it was something more, or not. Guys like Cutter were different from guys like Desmond. With Desmond, she would have known that she'd be his one and only. She would have been special. With Cutter, though, she was probably a dime a dozen. Nothing unique or remarkable about her. Just another piece of ass, a notch on his bed post. She considered actually getting up to check his post, but realized that was probably ridiculous. That was just a figure of speech, wasn't it? Besides, she’d seen no evidence of other women, and he’d treated her with a detached respect and distance she
hadn’t expected from someone with his reputation.

  She shook her head, trying to reconcile the two personas. It was like having known Clark Kent back in Smallville, but having Superman screw the hell out of you when you got to Metropolis. But she still couldn't figure out what had happened afterward, with him trying to get up and leave. He hadn't wanted to take advantage of her. She understood that. Respected it, even. Not every guy out there was as honest, or had as much integrity he did. Which, for a biker, was saying something. They weren't exactly known for the great way they treated their women.

  It had to have been something else, though. Something deeper. She hadn't seen the guy in almost a decade. He was practically a new man, completely different from the guy she'd known growing up. So what, then? Was it because last night had been special to him, and he'd just reacted poorly? Whatever it was, she didn't know. She probably wouldn't until he broke down and finally told her himself. Well, whatever last night had been, it had been a definite departure from her previous life. And, that being said, she'd definitely put a nail in the coffin on her relationship with Wyland West. Even if he could convince her to come back, somehow, she knew he'd never take her back. Wyland wouldn't be able to stand the thought that his friend's cock had been inside her. He'd never want to sleep with her again. With that thought in her head, Liona drifted back to sleep.

  # # #

  She awoke again some time later. This time because Cutter's naked body was sliding beneath the shits and pressing against her body from behind. He leaned down, kissed her shoulder.

  Something about the way she fit into his body, little spoon to his big one. Like they'd been made for each other years before, but were just now realizing. She moaned sleepily and pushed back into him. “How'd your meeting go?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

  “Not well,” he said. “Well, I don't think it did. Lawyer's reassuring me everything's going to be fine, but I think he's gotta do that with how much we pay his ass.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, sighing heavily into her neck as he kissed her again. “He doesn't know if he can get Jersey out on bail for sure, but he's pretty sure he can by saying he's not a flight risk. Same thing with Big Jack. But, this judge that they're going in front of, I think Wyland's got him in his pocket somehow. It looked good for them yesterday, he said. But, now, our guy's saying it looks dicey. So, I don't know who to believe.”

  “Which one is it?”

  “Judge DeAngelo, I think.”

  “County judge, right?” she asked, sleepily.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “He's up for reelection this year.”

  “You gotta be shitting me,” Cutter groaned into her shoulder.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I know it hurts you to have your friends in there like this. It has to be hard.”

  “Harder for them than it is for me, that's for sure,” he said. After that, he lay silently against her for a while. He may have been lost in his own thoughts and concerns, or perhaps he'd drifted off to sleep. As he remained quiet, though, the wheels in Liona's brain began to turn.

  “Cutter?” she asked after a while.

  “Yeah?” he said back after she said his name again.

  She sat up in the bed, the sheet falling off her. She reached down and picked it up, pressing the cloth to her nakedness. “Hey, do you ...” she said, trailing off, searching for the right words.

  “Do I what?” he asked.

  “Do you think Wyland knows I'm here?”

  “How could he?” he asked. “He doesn't even know we met again.”

  “Then ... will I make things worse for you and your friends if I stay?”

  “What?” he asked and chuckled. “Believe me, you ain't gonna make anything worse. We already got Wyland after us as it is. Far as I'm concerned, things can't get much worse than having a vindictive assistant DA on your ass.” He stroked her arm idly as he smiled up at her. “Now, come here.” She snuggled up next to him, using his shoulder as a headrest. He trailed his fingers up and down her back and she put her hand on his stomach. “I'm gonna make sure he never hurts you again,” Cutter said after a while. “I promise.”

  She smiled and nodded into his shoulder. With Cutter beside her, at least, she felt safe and secure. He kissed the top of her head. Her hand wandered back to his abs, went lower.

  “What are you…?” he asked as she encircled him with her lithe fingers.

  “What do you think?” Liona asked, kissing him softly. She let her hands, and her body, do the rest of the explaining for her.

  Chapter 17

  Cutter

  They spent the rest of the morning in bed together, their bodies pressed against one another. It had been ages since Cutter had even let a woman stay in his bed this long, years it felt like since he hadn't just immediately kicked them out on their asses.

  But, Liona was different. Clearly.

  As he twisted her long locks around his finger, touched her soft skin, and reveled in the feeling of her warm body pressed against his, he secretly worried. Worried about what she meant to him, worried about the future, and worried about the Vanguard. She couldn't take focus away from his MC. He owed that much to his men, the boys who trusted him with practically their lives.

  All those years had gone by since he'd seen her last. But for him, the attraction was still there, just as much as it had been once upon a time. Still, though, he knew he needed to stay focused. The situation was coming to a head and any slip up on his part could have far reaching ramifications far beyond what just tomorrow, or the next day, would bring to his door. Now was the time to be cautious, disciplined, and aware.

  “Cutter?” Liona asked from in front of him. He grunted in acknowledgment. “What do you really want out of life?”

  He'd thought about this a lot, actually. Ever since he'd joined the Vanguard. “Security, and freedom.”

  “Just that?” she asked as she re-situated herself to face him. She reached up, stroked his stubbly cheek, his jaw, as she looked deep into his eyes. “No kids, or a family, or anything?”

  Her eyes were two of the most beautiful gems he'd ever seen in his life. He grumbled again. “I wouldn't mind kids, I guess. I dunno, I've never really thought about it. Never really considered it. Hard to put a baby carrier on a bike, though, you know?”

  She laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. “I'm serious, though.”

  “Well, what about you?” he asked, deflecting it back to her. He was enjoying himself with her, but this prying into his life, and so quickly, was a little much for a man like him to take in. “You ever wanted kids, or anything?”

  She rolled over on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “I did. Once.” She shook her head. “Not with Wyland, though.”

  He stayed on his side, just as before, and watched her face as she became lost in her thoughts and walk down memory lane.

  “But, yeah, years ago I dreamed about it. Now, though, sometimes I just think that I might feel trapped by it all. I mean, I'd have a little life inside me for nine months, then, poof, I'd have a child. And, for the rest of its life, I'd be its mother. That's a big responsibility. I don't know if I'd want it, to be a prisoner of my actions like that.”

  “What about the other times?” Cutter asked, feeling uncharacteristically introspective for once.

  “The other times I think to myself, 'Well, what else are you going to do, Liona? You got any better ideas, girl?'”

  Cutter grinned and flipped over on his back. “Well?” he asked. “Do you?”

  She was quiet for a moment, then grinned. “I really don't know. Start up a small gift shop? Maybe a book store?”

  “Ah, come on,” Cutter said, “don't you read the news? Print's dead.”

  “Well, how'd you end up opening a restaurant?”

  He wanted to tell her. He really did. But how do you tell the girl of your dreams, one whom you've been trying to forget for nearly the last decade, and, coincidentally, wa
s set to marry the assistant DA just the day before, that you only opened the restaurant as a way to launder money? And that the only way it finally began to go legit was because of stupid luck? How do you say all that to a woman, particularly when you're trying to hide your drug dealing, your gun running, and all manners of other regrets?

  He just shrugged. “Meh. It was kind of on a lark.”

  Liona laughed at his poor, off the cuff response.

  Before she could dig further, though, he added. “Hey, do you want lunch? It's past noon already.” The faster he got away from this question, and all the consequences of his truthful answer, the better.