Tied

by KB Winters

“I’m not twelve anymore, Cruz.”

  My gaze swept over her body filled with soft, feminine curves. “Definitely not twelve. Thirty-six maybe.”

  Her lips twitched and her gaze narrowed, making me laugh. “Thirty-four, actually. D if you’re that interested.”

  I wasn’t, but now that I knew, I couldn’t stop seeing my hands cupping those meaty tits, rubbing my thumb over big hard nipples.

  “Good to know.”

  She sucked in a harsh breath, and her pupils dilated, mouth slightly open in a way that had my cock standing at attention.

  “I’m…I’ll be back to make dinner. After my shower.”

  I laughed at her retreating form, watching the sway of her ass, letting the movement hypnotize me for a moment. Hennessy felt the heat too, which meant it wouldn’t take too much effort to seduce my new wife.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hennessy

  Sandalwood and oranges.

  I knew that enticing scent. Cruz had me leaning in way too far just to get another whiff of his signature cologne. His bed and his pillows all smelled like sandalwood and oranges. Like chopped wood and autumn. Like man and the outdoors. The fragrance belonged to the kind of man who’d take you hiking and then toss you down on the leaves and send you to heaven as the clouds rolled by. I shivered thinking about that particular scenario before I remembered, none of this was real.

  It was the kind of scent that entered your brain through your nostrils and grabbed hold of your good senses until you were ready to do any and everything just to please him. That sounded like a fun ride. I admit it had me grinning like a fool and squeezing my knees together to stop the throbbing pulse between my thighs. But I didn’t need that kind of lure in my life, especially from a man I’ve been crushing on since I was a kid.

  Fake. This is all fake.

  That was the mantra I whispered to myself all through dinner last night whenever Cruz sent one of those flirty little smiles my way. Or, if he spoke and I couldn’t be sure if his words held sexual intent or if I was just a sex-starved pervert.

  I didn’t care what the answer was, all I cared about was that I’d made it through this mess unscathed. Cruz would be my fake husband in a fake marriage built wholly on convenience and security.

  Just because he was a sexy motherfucker with those sinful blue eyes and that slightly tanned skin that took him from boy next door to exotic treat didn’t mean I had to fall apart. It didn’t mean I had to fall at all, unless of course I counted falling into bed, which seemed more likely with every moment we spent together.

  I could sleep with him, share his bed and my body with him, without giving him any other part of me.

  I think.

  I sure as shit hoped so because last night proved to me that we’d be naked together before the ink dried on the marriage license. I could barely remember what we talked about over dinner, but I remember the pulsing heat, that throb of sexual tension that coiled between us, tighter and tighter as the night and the beer wore on.

  That was last night. Today was a brand new day, and I needed to think about something other than my attraction to him. For example, what the hell would I do while I was here, and more importantly, how long would I have to stay here?

  Those were all questions I was pretty sure Cruz and I hadn’t discussed last night, which meant it would go on today’s agenda.

  After a quick stop to the bathroom to freshen my morning breath and wipe away all traces of seven straight hours of sleep, I made my way downstairs where most of the cabin was located. The top floor was just the bedroom with it’s own bathroom. Downstairs had a dreamy spacious living room with high beam ceilings and a stone fireplace, a mid-size kitchen with top of the line appliances, and two small rooms in the back. One was an office, the other Cruz kept locked, which was fine by me because the first thing on my agenda was coffee.

  With the hot, strong stuff brewing in the shiny black pot, I was suddenly in the mood for breakfast. Cooking dinner for Cruz last night reminded me how much I loved to cook for someone. I wasn’t a gourmet foodie, but I enjoyed a good meal. For the past couple of years, though, and for plenty of reasons, mostly work and previous relationships, I’d given up on me and what I liked.

  With that thought, I opened the fridge and found bacon, eggs, and butter, the key ingredients for the perfect breakfast. Cruz wasn’t here right now, and he insisted I didn’t have to pay him back. But wouldn’t it be nice to eat homecooked meals after a long day of doing whatever it was that motorcycle clubs did? I didn’t know what that was actually, but I figured food was always welcome, and it was even better when someone else cooked it.

  The bacon was on a rack in the oven when I heard the front door of the cabin open. Cruz’s heavy footsteps were audible even over the low hum of the podcast that played in the background and his presence was too obvious to ignore. He took up all the oxygen in the room and the space, and finally I looked up. “What?”

  His brows were dipped in a low, confused V. “Where are your clothes?”

  I rolled my eyes, suddenly feeling very much the way I did when I lived with his dad and my mother, like a teenager who could never do anything right.

  “These are pajamas. It’s what adult women wear to bed when they don’t give a damn about pleasing a man.”

  “Who says I wasn’t pleased?” His dark look transformed into a wide, toothy grin that was more goofball than sex symbol but still, sexy as fuck. His glaze slid over my body, or what he could see with the counter between us. The look in his eyes was like a heavy caress, thick and slow like honey or molasses dripping down my skin.

  “I’m making breakfast and breakfast is eaten in pajamas.”

  “New rule?” He arched his brows playfully, laughing when I nodded.

  “Damn straight.”

  “What smells so good?”

  You, I wanted to say but didn’t dare. “Breakfast. Hungry?”

  His blue eyes darkened to navy at my words, and he licked his lips, forcing my nipples to harden and press against the soft fabric of my pajama top.

  “A half-naked woman cooking me bacon? What have I done to deserve this royal treatment?”

  Cruz dropped down in a chair at the end of the table and kicked his legs out in front of him, smiling as he crossed them at the ankle. “You gonna strip for me too?”

  His tone was playful, but I wasn’t naïve where men were concerned.

  “You want me to?”

  His nod came slow and seductive, like there was a sexy beat pounding in his head.

  “Fuck yeah, I do Hennessy. But not because you feel like you owe me something. Because you don’t. And I don’t do pity fucks.”

  “Good, because neither do I,” I snorted and rolled my eyes at his suggestion, like I would fuck him in gratitude. No thanks, I preferred to make bad decisions because I wanted to.

  The moment was charged all of a sudden, and Cruz stood, slowly closing the gap between us with his lazy gait. Those blue eyes bore a hole into my soul, keeping me rooted to the spot where I stood in front of the stove, a few beaten eggs in the colorful fiesta ware mixing bowl gripped in one hand.

  Cruz was in my space. No, he was more than in my space. He became my space. The smell of him, the heat of him, all combined together made my legs weak and my pulse race a marathon. What really surprised me, okay maybe it didn’t, was that my panties were soaked under my cotton shorts and my clit throbbed.

  “Good to know,” he said. His coffee-scented breath fanned my face, and I exhaled deeply. One thick finger traced the line of my jaw from one ear to the next and my breath hitched just as Cruz took a step back and went to the coffee pot beside the stove.

  “How do you take it?”

  “Anyway you want to do it.”

  “I meant the coffee.” He snort-laughed.

  “Yeah, uhm, so did I.” I chuckled along with him. He turned to fill two mugs, and I snapped out of the stupor he’d put me in and got busy with the scrambled eggs. They were simple but with som
e butter fried shallots and garlic it was part of my favorite breakfast in the world.

  “Damn, that smells good, Hennessy. I love a woman who cooks.”

  His words caused my skin to heat with pride, but it wasn’t just that. I felt my chest puff out a little at the awe in his tone.

  “Then that’s something I can do to make your life easier. Right? ‘Cause I love a man that eats.”

  He nodded and handed me the coffee. “Speaking of, I figured we should do the ceremony as soon as we can. I’ll see if Gunnar can perform it, since he was ordained to marry one of the guys in our parent MC. We can do it here on the ranch.”

  I blinked at the rapid fire change of topic from breakfast to marriage in the blink of an eye. No wonder my mom always told me to be careful who I shared my life with. Shit, Mom.

  “I think it’s best that we keep this from our parents. For now, anyway. Things haven’t been that great—”

  Cruz held up a hand to stop my explanation. “Agreed. But we should make a little effort with the ceremony, just in case people are watching. If McArthur thinks there’s a chance its fake or can be annulled, he might not hesitate to act.”

  Shit, I didn’t even think of that. A small sigh escaped as I thought of my pitiful savings being depleted and all because of a fake wedding.

  “I have some money saved so it won’t be a problem.”

  He scowled. “You’re not paying for this.”

  I frowned at him, still moving the eggs around in the skillet.

  “I absolutely am, Cruz. You’re already providing security, at risk to you and all of your friends. That’s too much to ask. The least I can do is pay for this fake wedding to happen.”

  “Yeah? Where’s all this money you’ve got to waste on a wedding? Tucked in the door of that rental?” I shook my head, unsure what he was getting at. “Did you stick it under my mattress last night?”

  “No. It’s in the bank.”

  He smiled like he’d won some big prize.

  “Exactly. If McArthur has his people watching you, that goes double for your bank activity. As soon as you withdraw it or use your credit card for a deposit, he’ll be able to narrow down your location.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  “Shit. Fuck,” I said as I turned back to the stove, shredded cheese balled in my hand. I released it and turned off the flame as an epic level tantrum took over me.

  “Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. Motherfucker!” Thanks to dear old Dad I was trapped. “Fu-uuck!”

  “Damn, girl. You okay?”

  “No, but I will be.” My shoulders fell as reality settled in over me. I had three hundred bucks in cash on me and that had to last until this shit show was over.

  “I’ll pay you back every cent for the wedding,” I told him and poured the cheesy eggs onto a large platter.

  Cruz patted his flat, hard stomach and grinned. “Keep the food coming, and we’re good. I wouldn’t say no to the barely there clothing either.”

  He winked and I dropped down in the closest chair before my wobbly legs gave me away. “This weekend is enough time to plan a quick wedding, right?”

  “More than.” I would agree to just about anything to get this part over and done with. “If this is happening, I say the sooner, the better.”

  Slowly the tension I’d been carrying in my body over the past month lessened. My shoulders felt a little less tight and my breathing came easier, more relaxed.

  Then Cruz’s ever present smile dimmed, and my heart constricted. “One last thing. I have to run all this by the MC first.”

  “First? I thought this was a done deal. Please, for the love of all that’s fucking holy in the world, don’t tell me I got my hopes up for nothing. I could be halfway to California by now, Cruz.”

  “I know, and it is a done deal, but I have to clear it with them first. Technically.”

  I didn’t know what the hell that meant, and honestly I didn’t care. Cruz was just another man yanking my chain because he could. Why would he say he could help if he couldn’t? More importantly, I doubted his MC would come to the aid of some woman they didn’t even know.

  “This McArthur fucker will very likely bring trouble to our doorstep, so we all have to agree to take out the threat, Hennessy.”

  I heard what he wasn’t saying. If the MC didn’t agree, I was on my own. Suddenly the cheesy eggs and greasy bacon weren’t all that appealing. But what could I say?

  “Let me know when you have an answer for me.”

  A nice hot shower and some real clothes sounded perfect. The alone time wouldn’t hurt either.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cruz

  I wasn’t even married yet and already I was in the damn dog house. All because I was doing the right thing. The MC had rules, and I didn’t just promise to follow those rules, I took a fucking oath. That shit meant something to me, and if Hennessy and her cold shoulder couldn’t understand that, well good goddamn riddance.

  Rant over.

  Because there was no fucking way in hell I’d leave Hennessy on her own against the mob. She wouldn’t last five minutes and that was assuming McArthur wanted her as a legitimate wife. My guess was he had something darker in mind for the pretty redhead, which pissed me off just thinking about it.

  Slayer walked into the Sin Room and took his spot at the table. “Whoa, man. Who pissed in your oatmeal?”

  He dropped down in the chair and propped his big booted feet up on the table. “You smile so much we were starting to think you were special or something.”

  I flipped him off, but I knew Slayer wasn’t so easily put off, especially when we were all still waiting for Gunnar to start this damn meeting. “I am special, asshole.”

  “Yeah, special snowflake,” Wheeler added with a laugh. “Seriously though, you good?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure, but I don’t wanna go over this shit more than once.”

  Wheeler nodded and turned his attention back to the door where Gunnar finally appeared, a big-ass grin on his face, and a big ass stain across his chest that none of us was stupid enough to mention. “What’s up, fuckers?”

  It looked like the Prez was in a better mood, which was good news for me all around.

  “Ready to get started?” Gunnar asked.

  He gazed around the room, his blue eyes missing nothing as he silently took in who was here, which was easy enough since every member of Reckless Bastards, Opey, TX, was present and accounted for.

  “Just waiting on you,” Wheeler said, his voice bland, almost bored.

  Gunnar made his way to the head of the table, and I felt my throat close up. I don’t know why the fuck I was so worried about approaching him about this, not when we’d gone to battle damn near every time a female showed up on Hardtail Ranch.

  Peaches had brought her own trouble, right along with Hazel and Aspen and now Hennessy. The Doc was the only woman who gave more than she took.

  “The metal detectors look great.” It was as much of an admission that he was wrong as any of us would ever get. But it didn’t fucking matter. As long as they were in place, we’d never have to worry about anyone but the MC being armed inside the club.

  “You barely even notice them.”

  Holden laughed. “Exactly how rich folks like the help, seen but not heard. Or is that children?”

  Saint whistled. “Given Stone’s lungs, I’m inclined to say that saying is about kids.”

  He shuddered, and I’m sure it was at the memory of the kid’s last crying jag on his watch.

  Gunnar sent a glare around the table to show us he didn’t appreciate us talking shit about his kid’s lungs. Then his blue gaze landed on me.

  “Cruz, any progress on the distraction?”

  “Working on it,” I told him honestly. My mind had been preoccupied lately, but I had a ton of notes on what I wanted to accomplish. “Can we talk new business now?”

  Gunnar’s brows shot up in surprise. “You bringing new business to the club?” />
  “Nope. A woman, and she’s in trouble.”

  I sucked in a long breath, my gaze bouncing between each of my brothers so they would know this wasn’t an easy ask for me.

  “Her father is worthless, not even worthy of the title, and put her in the pot against a local mobster. He lost and she’s running.”

  The room fell silent while I told them about Hennessy, her father and our plans to get married. After my long meandering explanation, it seemed like no one even dared to breathe.

  “Holy shit,” Slayer said slowly. “Cruz is gonna get married before me. What the fuck is this craziness?”

  That sucked all the tension from the room and everyone began to laugh and joke.

  Almost everyone. “You already agreed to marry her?” Gunnar asked.

  “Yes. If nothing else, it means he can’t marry her, no matter what the MC decides.”

  On the walk over, I’d already decided that I would marry her no matter what. The only question was would we live here on Hardtail Ranch or somewhere else where I could keep her safe.

  “I know this means bringing more shit to our front door, but I couldn’t say no.”

  “Childhood sweetheart?” Holden, the besotted fool that he was over his woman Aspen, asked with a grin.

  “Nope. Her mom and my dad got married a long time ago. Still married last I heard.”

  “Dude, you’re marrying your sister?” Slayer said, smiling a demented looking grin.

  “She’s not my fucking sister.”

  Hennessy was never family because I barely considered my own damn father family after the way he treated my mom. Hennessy was never more than an annoying kid as far as I was concerned. It wasn’t like we were planning to have kids or anything. This was an arrangement, nothing more. “We’re getting married this weekend. I hope you all show up.”

  Gunnar nodded at my unspoken declaration. This was happening, period.

  “Do you trust her?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it?

  “I can’t say I know her well enough to trust her, but I don’t not trust her.” It was difficult to explain.

  “Hennessy was a kid when our parents got married, and she was only twelve when I left for basic training. So, I really don’t know her at all. Except she was a nice kid and tried to make me feel like I belonged when I didn’t.”