Dominic: Cerberus MC Book 4
Page 10
Trying to ignore the twitch in my cock at the mental image, I push her hair from her face. “One, Grinder couldn’t hurt me even with the posse of geriatrics he has following him around. Two, even if he got the drop on me, there’s no fucking way he’d be able to access this door. If he even tried, hell like he’s never known would rain down on him.”
She looks confused at my response but doesn’t question my words.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she says softly as she backs out of my embrace and wipes at her eyes with the backs of her hands.
I turn to walk out, scooping up her shirt from the floor of the closet. I hand it back to her, inwardly groaning as her breasts disappear behind the fabric.
“Thank you,” she offers.
She sits back on the edge of the small cot, clearly not ready to leave the sanctity of the small room.
I join her. “I have to leave for a few days.”
Might as well get the shitty news out of the way first thing.
She stiffens beside me, and her breathing grows shallow, but she doesn’t speak.
“The house is fully stocked,” I tell her to help calm her fears. “You won’t have to leave the house for anything.”
Her face tilts up, and her sad eyes find mine. “Where are you going?”
“That’s not important.” Cerberus business isn’t something I ever talk about to people outside of the club, and even though this really isn’t a Cerberus matter, Bri is Shadow’s sister. As the Cerberus VP, I’m sure he wouldn’t want any of this spoken outside of the clubhouse walls.
“You want me to stay here while you’re gone?”
I look down at her. “Yeah. I expect you to stay here. Keep the lights off at night, stay in the house, and you’ll be perfectly fine.”
She shakes her head. “He’ll come back. He doesn’t give up easily.”
I hate the tears that had finally begun to dry are renewed on her cheeks. She lowers her head, looking at her hands. I bite my lip against insisting she look me in the eyes.
Instead, I cup her chin and angle her face up to mine. “He doesn’t suspect a thing. If he did, he would’ve doubled back after I left and went digging around.”
“How do you know he didn’t?”
I tap the phone in my pocket. “He didn’t, Mak. You’re safe here, but if you hear bikes outside, you can always come in here. I’ll give you a burner phone. If you end up in here just call me on it and I can tap into the security system to see what’s going on.”
“Why are you helping me?” The vulnerability in her voice makes my heart clench.
“Because you asked me to.” Her face softens. Damn, she’s gorgeous.
“You don’t even know me.” She tries to pull her face from my hand, but I tighten my grasp on her chin. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to let her know I don’t want her pulling away from me.
“I don’t have to know you to be the type of man that wouldn’t turn away a woman who really needed help. It’s not in my nature to walk away from someone who needs help.” I wipe away tears from her cheeks with my free hand. “I walked away once, thinking I had time.”
The words stick in my throat. Blinded by my love for Karen, immaturity, and desire to be a better man than my father got my mother killed. I’ve never let my own emotions dictate who I help, and when I doubt my responsibility, I always err on the side of caution.
“Who?” she whispers. “Who did you walk away from?”
I shake my head, my lip twitching in agitation at the information I just openly disclosed.
“It’s not important,” I mutter releasing her face.
I stand from the bed and leave the closet, walking toward the kitchen. “I’m thinking about having pizza delivered is going to be our best bet—”
She’s not behind me like I’d expected her to be.
I turn back and finding her still inside the panic room.
“You need to eat,” I say barely hiding the annoyance in my voice. I don’t want her to think she’s the reason for my continued sullen mood.
Reluctantly, she stands from the bed and follows me out of the room.
“How do I get to the panic room when you're gone if your bedroom door is locked?”
“Code for the bedroom door is three-eight-two-five,” I inform her as we enter the kitchen and I tug open the drawer with the takeout menus.
“Any significance?”
I shake my head. “Just a number.”
I refuse to explain that the code to my bedroom spells FUCK on the phone because even after all the years I’ve spent alone and even though I make every woman I’ve ever fucked leave before the sun comes up I honestly hate sleeping alone. There’s no way in hell I’ll ever tell her the code to the panic room is the date my world ended when I caught my wife fucking the neighbor, knowing the next time I have to cower from someone and lock myself in that room, my world might as well be over.
Chapter 17
Makayla
“Mmm,” I hum around the first bite of pizza.
Dom chuckles beside me, but there’s more fire than humor in his eyes. Muscles clench low in my belly, a clear warning that my body isn’t ready to give up having sex with him even though my mind knows it isn’t a good idea to continue. A thirty-eight-year-old man who’s known for not having any type of relationships with women isn’t someone I should get tangled with, but my body doesn’t understand what my heart already knows.
Men as handsome as him shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Add his looks to the gentlemanly aura that surrounds him and the fire in which he’s taken my body twice, and the result is a combustion too great to resist.
“Good?” he asks when my eyes flutter closed.
I point to the generic pizza box on the living room table in front of us. “Who made this? We don’t have pizza like this in Durango. It’s something about the sauce I think.”
“It’s a little hole in the wall pizzeria in town. I don’t think I’d ever move away from here. I stay just for this pizza,” he says with admiration.
I know that’s not true. He stays because this is where his brother is. Kincaid is also expecting a baby if stories around the Renegade clubhouse have any credit. He’s loyal and devoted to family, so the anticipated niece or nephew will keep him around as well.
“I guess Farmington residents can sleep well at night knowing you’re around to protect them so long as the pizza place stays open.” I smile sweetly at him and take another bite, the same delighted sound escaping my mouth.
“Keep moaning like that,” he mutters in warning. His weight shifts and I know he’s aroused. Even if I hadn’t trained myself to pay attention around men as a form of self-preservation, the bulge in his jeans isn’t easily ignored.
I narrow my eyes at him, assessing, trying to figure out if he’s turned on from the sounds or if he has some kind of weird food fetish.
“Sorry,” I tell him and turn my attention from him back to the food, cognizant of nothing but keeping my pleasure over the food silent.
He clears his throat and takes a long pull from his bottle of water. “I can take you to the clubhouse if you don’t want to stay here alone.”
My eyes snap to his. “Did you tell them I’m here?”
“I haven’t, but I don’t want you to spend several days here in fear that something will happen to you. That kind of stress isn’t good for your body.” He takes another bite of pizza, and my eyes fixate on the sauce piled on the corner of his mouth, muscles clenching again when his tongue sweeps out to gather it.
I shake my head, frustrated that I react so easily to such innocuous actions.
“Several days? How long will you be gone?”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal leaving some woman he barely knows alone in his house for days unsupervised, and it makes me wonder just how many women have passed through his doors over the years.
“Two nights, three tops.”
“Where are you going?” He wouldn’t give me any information e
arlier, but I hope he’ll at least tell me a little more now.
“Tennessee.” All of his answers are short and bordering on annoyance as if I’m some nagging spouse.
I just nod. If he doesn’t want to tell me anything else, I won’t ask again.
“I’d rather stay here. I don’t know any of the people at your clubhouse, and that will be more stressful than worrying about Grinder sneaking in and killing me in my sleep.” He frowns, but there’s no point in lying to him.
“If you let me tell Kincaid, he’ll send someone over here to keep you company,” he offers.
I shake my head again. The last thing I need is one of those bikers in the house. The mere thought shoots gooseflesh up my arm. I place my slice of pizza on the plate in my lap and rub my arms.
“Cold?” The tone of his voice is half concern half opportunistic. I wait for him to say something like ‘I’ll warm you up’ but he remains silent.
“I’m fine.” I look up to find him gauging my expression. “I don’t want anyone knowing I’m here. I’ve already caused enough trouble just by coming here.”
I watch the ripple of his back muscles as he stretches forward and places his empty plate on the closed pizza box. Strength I’ve never seen outside of actors on TV is evident in the bunching and pulling of the thin fabric. Safety and virile sexuality roll off of him without him even trying. It’s no surprise I succumbed to the testosterone that seeps from his pores. It’s as if just by his scent and proximity I was helpless in resisting him. Not that I tried.
“Being here is a blessing,” he says leaning further back on the couch. A hint of compassion and something I can’t quite read fills his eyes, but he catches himself and schools his face back into impassivity. “I mean, we would’ve found out about Grinder’s bullshit eventually. That crap doesn’t stay in the dark too long. You showing up has saved who knows how many women and girls from being violated.”
I take a drink of water from my bottle as an excuse to take my eyes off of him. I don’t want him thinking I’m heroic because all I can think about are the things going on at the club and I’m here, helpless to do anything about it. I imagine unthinkable things happening to my sister while I sit idle in this house eating pizza and fantasizing about a future with a man I have no business even speaking with.
“You know I have to tell him eventually. We’ve already had this conversation. I don’t know why Kincaid knowing a few days earlier makes any difference. I can have one of the girls come over and stay with you.”
My lip turns up in a sneer as I look over at him. “I don’t want to be babysat by a club whore either.”
Stoic and aloof he leans forward, within inches of my face. The power and control radiating off of him is a physical thing in the air. “I wouldn’t have a club whore in my house, Mak.”
“I’m here,” I whisper. “Grinder told me every day I was his whore.”
His hand reaches out so fast, I don’t have time to react. Anger fills his eyes, but his grasp on my chin and cheek is as gentle as I imagine he can do. “Call yourself a whore one more time, Mak and I’ll tie you to my bed and whip your ass so hard you won’t sit down for a week.”
He speaks to my mouth, and the attention along with the violent insinuation of his threat has the opposite effect I thought my body would have. Rather than cowering in fear, the urge to beg for just that hits hard in my gut. I can’t admit that to him, though, because it feels wrong and immoral. Those types of feelings are dangerous and only lead to pain and regret.
“I’m not into pain,” I lie.
His tongue sneaks out wetting his lips, and he’s so close to my face, I can feel the heat from it. Steel eyes rove from my lips until his gaze is burning into my own. “You’ll come so hard you’ll beg me for more.”
Dark, risky threats.
“Go ahead and get some rest, Mak.” He releases my face without fanfare, and I curl a little inside myself that he’s so easily able to control his body when mine is screaming out, wanting to beg him to fulfill his promises and so much more. “I’ll clean up.”
He pulls the plate I’d forgotten about from my lap, gathers his plate and the near empty box and disappears into the kitchen.
I do as he instructed, shuffling down the hall and away from his rejection. We’ve had sex twice and haven’t spoken a word about either time. Now I know what the girls at the clubhouse meant when they said he could fuck you to the point that you think he’s ready to devote his life to you and then turn into a cold bastard who acts as if he’s never seen you before, while kicking you out of bed so he can go to sleep.
I hold on to the knowledge that he held me in his arms last night, something I haven’t heard of him doing with the women he’s hooked up with from the Renegades. As I take a quick shower, I push the thoughts of his messing around with other women from my mind. I only imagine the times we’ve had together as I dry off and pull on a clean set of pajamas.
I know when I lay down on the bed in the guest bedroom alone that I’ll never be able to fall asleep. The room is too big and empty, void of the safety I feel when Dom is in here with me. I roll over for the millionth time, planting my face in the pillow, and punching it with my fist. I hate the vulnerability, the inability to calm my nerves enough to go to sleep.
I grab my pillow from the bed and the comforter, imagining I’d be more comfortable on the couch. At least the sofa won’t smell like the combination of both our bodies.
Cracking open the bedroom door, I peek out and listen for him. Not a sound can be heard, and his bedroom door is closed, so I sneak down the hall toward the living room. I startle when I see a figure walking down the pier, but my fears are quickly diminished when I recognize Dom in the stream of light lining the wooden dock.
An idea strikes since he thinks I’m in my bed. I head back down the hall, but I bypass the guest bedroom. I punch the numbers into the keypad to enter his room, close the door quietly behind me and enter the closet. The second set of numbers is accepted on the panel to the panic room, and within a minute of seeing his shadowy form outside, I’m closed away in the panic room.
What once felt like claustrophobia earlier today feels more like a cocoon tonight. My skin crawls at the thought of sleeping alone with easily accessible windows and doors in the guest room. I adjust the pillow and blanket on the cot, and within minutes I’m slipping into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter 18
Dominic
The scotch burns my throat as I swallow the last third left in the tumbler. Peacefulness surrounds me out on the dock, but the thoughts and emotions rumbling around inside me doesn’t allow for the calm to seep into my core. Leaving her alone is the last thing I want to do. I need to move on Grinder and the other pieces of shit involved in hurting Mak and the other girls in the pornos they’re making. I need her out of my house, longing for her is not something I anticipated or even want.
The chirp of a notification pings on my phone. I pull it from my pocket since I don’t get many I check it every time I’m alerted. I’m not a social media user, so it either has to be an email, text, or a security message.
“Damn it,” I groan when I look down and see the details on my phone. Makayla has to have locked herself back into the panic room. The door has been opened and closed, and the only thing she went in there with earlier was her pajama bottoms, and she was wearing them when she exited.
Apparently, the visit from Grinder this morning left her more shaken than I realized. The fact that I’m leaving for a few days probably isn’t helping any either.
“I’m not her keeper,” I grumble to myself as I walk back down the dock and lock myself back into the house. I take my time hand-washing my scotch tumbler and setting it in the drainer to dry. After checking all the doors and locks and activating the alarm I go to my room, smiling at her closed door. I bet she went in there thinking I wouldn’t have a clue and assuming she was in her room. I check her room anyways, finding a pillow and the blanket missing from the bed.
Awareness of her only a dozen feet away refuses to let my brain calm and settle into sleep. I lay for over an hour futility agitating enough to begin to anger me. With a frustrated huff, I climb out of bed and head into the closet. She better be sleeping, if I find her upset and teary eyed like she was earlier I may lose my shit.
I press the intercom and command her to open the door. She doesn’t immediately but the lock whirs and opens much faster than it did earlier.
Tired eyes and rumpled hair accompany her into the doorway. No matter how many times I see her, I can’t get past how gorgeous she is. The bruising on her face and neck are almost gone, and without a speck of makeup, she’s handsdown the epitome of natural beauty. She blinks her sleepy blue eyes up at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“You caught me.” The sleep-filled huskiness of her voice hits me hard in the chest… and dick. “I couldn’t fall asleep in the guest room.”
I barely keep myself from offering a couple of orgasms to help her feel better, but I somehow manage to keep my asshole attitude locked down. “You can’t sleep in here, Mak. The air is recycled and isn’t meant for long-term stays.”
I don’t share that it would take days before the air is depleted enough to become hazardous. She frowns, her bottom lip a fraction further out than the top. I picture biting it since she seems to be offering it up to me. She’s so small I could dead lift her without any effort and have her pussy against my mouth in a second flat. My cock stirs, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she looks from me and back to the disheveled blanket on the cot.
“Can’t be very comfortable. You’d sleep better in the bed,” I offer and want to slap myself.