by London Casey
“Hudson, no,” I said.
His hands grabbed my waist. I took his wrists.
“Let me be here,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe from whatever is going on. With me, the club, or you personally.”
“We can’t let things get out of hand, Hudson,” I said.
“Like how?”
“The bathroom,” I whispered. “That was good. But it can’t…”
“I’ll sleep at the clubhouse, Cora,” he said. “I’ll come by when you want me to. I’ll bring cash. I’ll listen to everything you say to do. I have to get back on my ride. I can’t survive without it.”
I touched his chest, already flirting with the temptation to break the rule I just made.
“Yeah?” Hudson asked.
“When you were working the bar, Trev talked to me. He said you can’t live without your cut. Or the club. Or any of it.”
“That’s the truth, Cora. This is my life. This is what I believe in. This is what I do.”
I broke away from Hudson, peeling my hands away from his muscular chest. My fingertips were tingling, wanting to touch him again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said. “First thing in the morning. Your personal therapy begins.”
“I’ll bring cash and whiskey,” Hudson said with a wink.
He walked to the porch and down.
Then he stopped and looked back. “I expect the same from you, Cora.”
“Cash and whiskey?” I asked playfully.
“No. The truth. What you’re hiding from me. Why you need me.”
“Who said…”
Hudson grinned. That shut me up.
Then he walked away.
What did he know? And how did he know it?
16
HUDSON
She twisted my leg into positions that I had only seen at a strip club. The pain was fierce but I worked through it. We cleared the living room, put mats on the floor, and went to work. It was hour after hour, day after day, constant moving and twisting, hurting, cursing, and storming away when things got either too intense or too seductive. Having Cora leaning on me, looking at me, those hands all over me, there was no way I could back away from her. Shit, I owed no commitment to her, and I could have gone through a dozen women to give myself a sense of relief. But I didn’t do that. I held out, torturing myself.
Prez had guys out on the hunt for Aaron. Communications with the O’Nuall family were happening. The club was warned of our intentions and the Irish were giving their opinion on it. The other charter Presidents had left. Their guys were still local but not too close.
It was late afternoon when I walked up Cora’s porch, carrying a bag of clothes and a coffee for her. I opened the door without knocking. To my surprise, Cora had a guy with her in the house. It took me a second to realize it was the doctor that wanted to get into her pants. My anger flared, along with jealousy.
“Hudson,” Cora said.
“This is what’s happening?” the doctor asked.
“Derrick, please.”
“Derrick,” I said. I looked at Cora. “Hey, sweetheart. Got you a coffee. Sorry I’m a little late today. Had a few business meetings.”
“Business,” Derrick muttered.
“You got a problem here?” I asked.
“Actually, I do. A big one. If there’s any contact…”
“Here’s the thing,” I said. “Cora is helping me understand some stuff about my injury. See, fucks like you storm in and out of hospital rooms and don’t tell us shit. So, I’m trying to cope with my injury. Make the best of life. Because sometimes you don’t get what you want.”
Derrick scowled like a kid who couldn’t get a toy at a store.
“This is borderline illegal,” Derrick said. “I’m disappointed in you, Cora.”
“Hey,” I said. “She can throw a mat on the floor and do anything she wants. Who the hell are you?”
“A concerned friend,” Derrick growled.
I stepped toward him. I had six inches on him - and probably more between my legs.
“A friend,” I said, looking at him. “That’s all you are. Remember that.”
“Criminal,” Derrick said. “That’s all you are. Remember that.”
I grinned. “I’m sure there’s someone sick who needs a rectal exam, Doc.”
Derrick shook his head. He looked at Cora. He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t. He recoiled back and with slumped shoulders, he left the house.
I dropped my bag to the floor and took off my leather cut.
“I should get changed,” I said.
Cora didn’t say a word to me.
I grabbed my bag again and paused. “What’s wrong?”
She slowly looked at me. “How’s your leg feeling?”
“Sore. But a different kind of sore. Like a workout sore.”
“You didn’t go to the gym or anything, did you?”
“Sweetheart, I have to blow off steam somehow.”
That was true. If I wasn’t going to be fucking some reliever hanging around the clubhouse and the bar, I needed to get something out. So, I’d hit the gym that Trev set up in one of the old garage bays.
“Blow off steam?” Cora asked. “What does that mean?”
“That means the way I usually blow off steam I don’t. So, I have to replace it.”
“And how would you blow off steam?”
“You really want to know?”
Cora swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
I reached out and gently touched her chin. “I’d take a beautiful woman into my bed for the night.”
“But you haven’t…”
I turned and walked away. I went into the downstairs bathroom and changed into shorts.
When I opened the bathroom door, she was standing right there. Right in my damn way.
“What is this?” she asked.
“What?”
“You’re teasing me about other women. You’re acting jealous in front of another guy.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Whoa. Say that again.”
“You heard me, Hudson. You going to the gym… you’ll hurt yourself.”
“I didn’t do a thing with my legs,” I said. “Just upper body. You don’t seem to mind.”
“I’m trying to be a professional.”
I laughed. “Ah, sweetheart, anything professional between us was thrown out the window the second my tongue flicked between your thighs. You and I know that. But you want to keep this thing civil, I’m on board.”
“Then go do what you need to do with other women,” she said. “I don’t care.”
“Yeah, you do care,” I whispered. I stepped out of the bathroom, inching toward Cora as she inched back. “And I’d rather wait for you again, Cora. And jealousy? I don’t get jealous, sweetheart.”
“You just…”
“That wasn’t jealousy,” I said. I kept moving toward her. She kept moving back. “That was honesty. You don’t like that guy. He’s trying to save you, Cora. You want to be saved? Then I’ll fucking save you. Just tell me what I’m saving you from.”
Her back hit a wall.
Now she was trapped.
My body just an inch from hers.
I felt my cock throbbing. I was ready to pitch a tent right there. And there’d be no hiding it either, not in the basketball shorts I was wearing. I couldn’t even hide my hard on when I was wearing jeans.
Cora just stared at me. Her face was flushed. Stuck between fantasy and reality. The crazy part was that I was both to her. I was her fantasy, the wild man coming to show her things she had only dreamed of. And yet I was her reality. Because under the leather cut and off the motorcycle and out of the clubhouse I was a man who would take care of someone I cared about.
And fuck me, I cared about Cora.
Secrets and all.
I reached into my pocket and took out a wad of cash. I grabbed her hand and put the money into her hand. As I held her hand I leaned in and let my scruff tickle her face.
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My lips rested at her ear. “Time to fix me, sweetheart.”
I broke away from her and couldn’t look back. Because if I did, I knew what would happen.
The only physical therapy that would happen would be between the sheets, led by me.
There were three sightings of Aaron but nothing successful came of it. There had been random attacks on three MC members, two from our charter and one from Reno. To be fair, the one from Reno had gotten himself blackout drunk and woke up half dead on the side of the road. The Irish had cut off communication with us a week ago, after making it clear that they had nothing to do with their rogue members. But they said any previous agreements would be upheld.
In other words, if we took out Aaron, it could start a new war between the MC and the Irish.
Two members of our charter were attacked in the same manner I was: a barreling SUV trying to take them out. Both attacks were carried out by Aaron alone. That was a decent enough sign, telling us that whatever he tried to establish was failing. If he was alone, he wouldn’t last long. Unless he traded in his SUV for a sniper rifle.
My leg was feeling somewhat better. I could walk and look a little less drunk when I did so. When I drove my truck, it hurt less. But throwing my leg over a motorcycle? It hurt like hell. Trying to balance a motorcycle? That wasn’t happening just yet.
I visited Cora everyday and she kept working me.
We finished and I climbed to my feet.
“Stretch it out a little,” Cora said. “Try walking on it.”
“How about a shower?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s fine.”
“I had a late night session at the gym and then crashed without showering.”
“So that’s what that smell was,” Cora said.
I didn’t smile. Shit was seriously building up inside me. I was lifting too much. I wanted to break all my muscles down to distract the lower half of my body. My damn leg protested that it didn’t want to heal. My cock protested that it wasn’t nestled into Cora’s body.
“Towels are in the linen closet,” Cora said.
“I can make my way around a bathroom,” I said.
I walked the stairs with her watching me. In the beginning, my leg felt okay after therapy but now it hurt. I stopped asking Cora any questions because she would insist that it was all normal and part of the process of healing.
I wasn’t in the mood for healing, though. I was in the mood for tracking down some rogue Irish asshole and flattening him with the tires of my truck.
I took a shower without anything happening. Cora had kept to her word about keeping things between us calm. Yet I knew there was nothing calm about our dynamic. I caught her too many times looking at me with those innocent fuck me eyes. Or finding her looking out a window like she was expecting someone.
When I got out of the shower, I wiped the mirror and stared at my foggy reflection. I balled up the towel and threw it into the hamper. I had been through some weird shit in my outlaw life but this was becoming number one. I changed back into my jeans and t-shirt and went downstairs. There was a note on the counter from Cora.
Upstairs in my bedroom. Business call. Could be good news. Please don’t leave yet.
I got a glass of water and couldn’t settle myself.
When I looked toward the front door, I remembered her broken porch light. I found lightbulbs under the sink, grabbed a chair from the dining room, and went to work.
I went from outlaw to handyman in the blink of an eye.
I put the chair on the porch and climbed up, slowly, but I made it. I took the glass cover off the porch light and then got off the chair. I grabbed a fresh bulb and climbed right back up again. I changed the lightbulb and the front door opened.
Busted.
Cora’s eyes went wide.
“What are you doing?” she yelled.
“Fixing your damn porch light.”
“You can’t be on a chair.”
“Look at me go.”
“Hudson.”
“It’s too late. I already took care of it.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself again.”
“It’s a lightbulb,” I said with a laugh.
“And you step the wrong way…”
“Then hand me the cover for the light. And take this bad bulb.”
Cora groaned and handed me the cover.
“See, there’s little screws that hold this in place.”
“I know that,” she said.
“If you did, you wouldn’t have let this go for as long as you did.”
“I’m busy, Hudson.”
“How was your call?”
I started to put the case over the light.
“Dumb,” she said. “Just a formality with HR. I’m technically on a leave of absence for personal reasons. The head honcho of the company decided I should be compensated.”
“Free money,” I said. “That’s a great thing.”
“I’m not worried about that. I actually like my job.”
I looked down at her. “The private patient thing isn’t working, huh?”
“Just you? I need some variety.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll go break that doctor’s arm. Dr. Derrick, right? Then you can rehab his arm. There’s variety.”
“Jealous again,” Cora teased with a vixen grin.
I smiled back.
Yeah, fine, maybe it did cut into me a little. The doctor versus the outlaw. Right versus wrong. The stable life versus the wild life. Any sane and decent woman would choose right and stable. Then again, every sane and decent woman had a little devil inside her looking for some wild fun.
I climbed off the chair.
I put some weight on my left leg and all hell broke loose for a second. I stumbled and felt a popping kind of pain. I lifted my left leg, jumped, and grabbed for the side wall of the house.
“Fuck,” I growled, feeling defeated for a split second.
Cora was there, her hands at my chest. “Hudson. Are you okay?”
We were way too close for comfort as I stared down at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little stumble.”
“I told you not to do that.”
“I don’t listen very well. Ever.”
“I’m seeing that.”
“You don’t see with your ears, sweetheart.”
“So you’re jealous and literal.”
I put my hands to her waist. “I’m far more than that.”
I felt her hips shudder in my hands. “Hudson…”
I lowered my mouth to hers and gave her a soft kiss. “Thanks for breaking my fall.”
“Hardly,” she whispered. “You would have fallen right on me and crushed me.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Her hands slowly curled, pulling at my t-shirt. She was battling temptation. I loved watching it happen. Needs and wants colliding deep inside her.
For me, it was simple.
I knew what I wanted. I knew what I needed.
And it was one thing.
Her.
“Can I ask you something?” Cora asked.
I treated her to something to eat. We ordered some food and had it delivered. I checked in with VP and there was nothing new happening. Only one tidbit of information popped out at me and that was the fact that both Villie and Miller were coming back to meet with Trev again. That couldn’t have been a good sign at all.
“Ask away,” I said as I finished a beer.
“Will you stay?”
“Stay?”
“The night. Here.”
“I thought we were…”
“The couch, Hudson,” Cora said.
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s got you so afraid?”
“Monsters under the bed,” Cora said.
“If that was the case then I’d be in your bed,” I said with a grin.
Her cheeks turned red as she looked away.
“I meant to say monsters under the couch.”
Cora then looked at me. She looked a second away from breaking down into tears. “You’re going through a lot, Hudson.”
“So are you.”
“Whatever I’m going through is not your business.”
I moved toward her, reaching for her arms.
She slowly backed up. “I need to take a shower. The house is yours.”
“So, are we going to keep playing this game?”
“No game, Hudson. You pay me to help you. You fixed my light. You bought me dinner. Stay the night if you want.”
“You asked me to stay,” I said.
“Don’t stay then. Leave by the time I’m out of the shower. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s stupid, I’m sorry.”
Cora hurried away up the stairs.
I glanced at the front door, then back at the fridge.
I grinned and walked over to get a fresh beer.
There was no fucking way I was leaving her tonight.
17
CORA
I let the water pulse over me and wash away everything. The moment with Hudson on the porch. Touching his body, moving his leg. The memory of his muscles all over me. The way his shorts always went up his leg, way too far, subtly revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything under those shorts. It was such an unprofessional thing but lucky for me I was no longer in a professional setting.
In the span of a minute I offered Hudson to stay the night and then kicked him out. My head and heart were spinning in opposite directions, on a collision course that I didn’t know the end result of.
There was a note left in my mailbox today, too. A small piece of paper with one word.
Soon.
I knew what that meant and it was why I blurted out for Hudson to stay. But he didn’t need to know about me. The second I got him back on his motorcycle he could ride into the sunset and be out of my life for good. Then I could go back to my kind of normal and figure something else out.
When I turned off the water, I let out a sigh and grabbed my hair, squeezing out as much water as I could. I toweled off and wrapped it tight around my body. My plan was to get dressed and to go bed. Sleep it all off and start over again tomorrow.