Unattainable

by Madeline Sheehan

  “Dirty,” Ellie said. “You are bleeding all over the place. If you won’t go to the hospital, at least let me help you stop the bleeding.”

  He glanced up from his smoke and found her standing way too close to him.

  “Back up,” he growled. “Back the fuck up right now.”

  He watched, stunned, as fear momentarily twisted her features, but was immediately replaced by determination.

  “Dirty,” she said quietly. “I just want to help you.”

  He nearly choked on his own tongue. Help him? Now that was motherfucking priceless. No one could help him. And he was starting to feel like he could no longer help himself.

  “You need to wash your face,” she continued. “You’re…um…you need to…clean the area around the wound.”

  “I’m dirty,” he said flatly. “You can say it. It ain’t as if I don’t know.”

  Her big blue eyes softened. “You’re dirty,” she said softly. “And you’re hurt, meaning you can get an infection.”

  He stared at her, at her long, tight black curls, her caramel skin, bruised but still smooth and clear, her big blue eyes ringed with heavy dark lashes, her full lips.

  She was so different than what he was used to. She was like his brothers’ old ladies—clean, good women. Women who should never be left alone with a man like him; a man who could, who most likely would, hurt them.

  He continued to stare at her, and then suddenly he found himself thinking about fucking her, her thighs spread wide open, watching himself disappear inside of her, watching her belly quiver and her breasts bounce with the force of his movements, and then lastly, looking up into those big blue eyes.

  His stomach rolled and acid shot up into his throat.

  “Move,” he gritted out, sliding off the windowsill, forcing Ellie to back up or get run over by him.

  “Dirty,” she called after him. “You really need to clean your—”

  “I’m gonna take a fuckin’ shower!” he yelled as he rounded the corner, hurried down the hall, and all but fell inside the bathroom in his mad dash to escape the fucking nagging. Is this how women were? He wouldn’t know; he hadn’t lived with a woman, hadn’t truly been alone with a woman since he’d been a child.

  He needed away from her, away from all of it, from everything she represented, but most of all he needed away from those…those goddamn motherfucking eyes of hers.

  Gripping the sides of the sink, Dirty bent down and, in an attempt not to throw up, tried to slow his breathing. Once his heart rate had slowed, he lifted his head and found himself staring back at him. He gingerly touched the wound on his forehead.

  Fuck. She was right. He probably did need stitches. Fuck it, he’d sew it up himself; he’d done it before.

  But first he was going to have to wash the dried blood from his face. Actually, since he’d been naked, he was covered from head to toe in dried blood. He might not be a big fan of hygiene but that didn’t mean he wanted to walk around looking like he’d just stepped off the set of a B-rated horror film.

  He glanced over at the shower and then back at himself. Fuck it, it was just a shower. He took Mexican showers all the time. Water, some soap, get all the important areas.

  But when he turned on the water and stepped inside the tub, why did it feel like it was so much more than just a shower?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Get off me,” I said, breathing hard and pushing without success against Cage’s chest. Fuck, was he made of concrete? What the hell?

  “No,” he growled and when I turned away from his kiss, he took a nose dive into the crook of my neck. Before I could protest further, his tongue shot out and then suddenly he was licking and sucking and biting and then his hand was sliding down the side of my body and he was maneuvering himself slightly off of me and his hand was between my legs and his fingers were up inside of me and then I was too busy feeling like I was queen of the fucking universe to care that his sweaty self was lying heavily on top of me or that my back was having serious doubts as to whether it could take another pounding on the uneven wood plank floor. As it was, I was pretty sure my ass had some pretty serious friction burns, but like every other coherent thought in my head, it was quickly flying off to never-never land, never to be heard from again.

  Nothing had gone according to plan. At least, not by my plan.

  First, Jase, the dumbass, had puked all over my mom’s car, then proceeded to pass out, leaving me unable to get him out of the car and into his house, forcing me to have to take him to the club instead. The club where, as my luck would have it, Cage just so happened to be.

  And damn if that man didn’t look as good as a double bacon cheeseburger, after a week spent camping with my vegan friends.

  Fuck my life.

  Fuck it up, down, left, and right, fuck it straight to heaven and back down to hell, and then fuck it up the damn ass with Satan’s red-hot spiked tail.

  The asshole was playing me. For some reason, maybe he wasn’t getting enough pussy lately, Cage had decided he liked fucking me so much since last night that he’d done everything in his power to get me back to his house just so he could fuck me some more.

  Not that I was complaining, at least not at the moment. Earlier though, once I realized why he’d demanded on driving the car, that he had absolutely no intention of taking me back to my mother’s place, I complained quite a bit.

  And once I realized that he’d taken me from the club back to his house, I complained even more. Yelled and screamed too. Called him all sorts of colorful names. I may have even tried to punch him a few times. But all of that had come quickly to an end when he dragged me, kicking and screaming, from the car and forcefully took me inside his house.

  The next thing I knew, we were naked. At least we used a condom this time. Thank fuck.

  Oh God. Oh my God. That felt so damn good.

  Everything he did—kissing me, touching me, fucking me hard or slow—it didn’t matter. It all felt so perfect.

  But now, even as I was grinding myself against his hand, fucking his fingers as fast as my spent body could manage, I was back to yelling and screaming.

  Only this time, only I could hear it.

  I was silently screaming, berating, and hating myself for being so incredibly weak. All those years spent avoiding Cage, all those years spent avoiding my feelings, all those goddamn motherfucking years.

  And here I was again. Being played like a fucking puppet.

  It was if I’d never left Montana, never made a life for myself somewhere so far removed from the life. Like no time had passed since I was a sixteen-year-old loser staring up at Cage, thinking he was my whole fucking world, telling him I loved him while he stared at me and said, “It ain’t like that for me, baby.”

  No. No. No. Goddamn, no!

  How did this happen? How had one weekend turned my entire life inside out?

  “No,” I whispered, pushing at the side of Cage’s head, trying to dislodge him from my neck.

  “Will you shut the fuck up?” he said, lifting his head. “For two motherfuckin’ seconds?”

  “Get off me,” I demanded, pushing at his hard stomach.

  “Teg—”

  “Off,” I repeated tightly, clenching my jaw, trying desperately to build that wall back up. “You’re even dumber than I thought if you think I’m going to keep letting you treat me like a fucking club whore.”

  Cage’s confusion evaporated, turned instantly back to anger. His features pulled tight with irritation, his nostrils flaring.

  “Fuck you, Tegen,” he growled. “You were right there with me, babe. You’re lyin’ to yourself if you’re thinkin’ you’re not wantin’ more.”

  I glared at him. Sex. Sex, sex, sex. That’s all he was about; all he’d ever be about.

  “No, I was not!” I snapped. “Now, get the FUCK off me!”

  “FINE!” he roared, and then his weight was gone and he was on his feet.

  The second he was off me, I rolled to my lef
t and jumped to my feet. Snatching up my clothing, I quickly began to dress.

  “Tegen.”

  I didn’t turn around. “What?”

  “Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “Don’t keep leavin’ like this. I can’t fuckin’ stand it.”

  My heart began to pound.

  “Why do you care?” I whispered. “You don’t even know me anymore.”

  When he didn’t respond, my heart nearly seized. I hadn’t realized until the actual words had come from my mouth, how badly I wished they weren’t true.

  “I know you,” he said. “Did you think I forgot all those damn tea parties? Or you forcing me to listen to all your stories, all those crazy ideas you told me you were goin’ to turn into books someday?”

  My heartbeat took a hard right into overdrive. He remembered my stories?

  “But now,” he continued. “Every time you come home, you treat me like shit on your fuckin’ shoe and, babe, I can’t fuckin’ stand it. Now, this shit with us happens, and even though you and my dad love callin’ me stupid, I ain’t fuckin stupid. I know when a bitch is gettin’ her rocks off and you were doin’ triple that.”

  I spun on him. “No one ever said you were stupid when it came to sex, Cage! You excel at sex! Every female on the planet knows that!”

  “Teacup,” he said slowly, staring straight into my eyes. “You gotta know how straight-up jealous you sound.”

  It was a double whammy straight to my heart. In one short sentence, he’d shattered my carefully constructed glass house. Oooh, I hated him, or rather, I wanted to hate him. Standing there naked, his long blond hair a mess, his perfectly sculpted features serious, knowing how beautiful he was without one iota of self-consciousness, I wanted to despise him…only I couldn’t.

  “I get it, babe, I do,” he continued. “You were just a kid and I did you wrong, but you’re forgettin’ I was a kid too. I was a brand new brother, only a year patched in, and I had bitches throwin’ themselves at me left and fuckin’ right, and, Tegen, you know I was drunk more often than not.”

  He sighed. “It’s no excuse either, it’s just the God’s honest truth, but that didn’t mean I didn’t give a fuck about you. Or what went down between us. I gave a fuck, babe, I just didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.”

  Cage paused and bent down to grab his leathers. After slipping them on, he began digging through his pockets. Pulling out a pack of smokes and his lighter, he shook two out, lit them both and held one out for me. I hesitated at first, but in the end realized I wasn’t going anywhere unless either Cage felt like letting me leave or I felt like walking through the Montana wilderness for hours. So I took the damn cigarette and when I did, Cage grinned.

  His dimples popped out and it was a trillion times worse.

  So. Not. Fair.

  “You were never a club slut, Tegen,” he said. “Not once did I ever fuckin’ think that. To me, you were always D’s little girl. You were family and, Teacup, you were my best friend.”

  My breath shuddered from my lungs. I was done for. There was no way I was walking away from this weekend intact.

  Blindly, I reached out behind me, seeking one of the chairs I knew was back there at his table. At any second I was going to collapse.

  Cage had just ruined me for the third time in my life. In the span of a day, he’d ruined me. Again.

  The first time had been the day I met him; the second time was the morning after he’d taken my virginity and told me he didn’t love me; and right here, right now, was the third time.

  • • •

  Cage was getting to her; he could see it on her face. It was the single most vulnerable expression he’d seen on Tegen’s face in the past ten years. And he liked it. She looked softer, more feminine. She looked like his Teacup.

  So he kept going. He fired one memory after another her way until he was no longer remembering for her, but for him, or rather he was realizing something that had never really made much sense to him in the past.

  Then it wasn’t just Tegen’s feelings for him coinciding with all her bad behavior over the years making sense, but it was his reactions to her as well. Why he’d felt so damn miserable every time she’d come home and treat him like garbage.

  “Cage!” Tegen shrieked, hot on his heels. “Give it back!”

  Laughing, he kept running through the clubhouse, Tegen’s purple backpack held high over his head. He made a quick left out of the main room and hooked an immediate right through the double swinging doors into the kitchen. The four occupants of the kitchen all turned to stare at him.

  “Asshole!” Tegen screamed from behind him. “Give it back!”

  “Language!” Dorothy chastised.

  Still holding her backpack over his head, Cage grinned down at her. “Aw, Teacup, what’s the matter?”

  “Don’t call me that!” she yelled, jumping up and down, trying to reach her bag. “I’m not a little kid anymore!”

  “No?” He laughed. “You finally grow outta that trainin’ bra?”

  “Cage!” Dorothy snapped. “Inappropriate!”

  Tegen’s pale, freckled face turned bright red with rage, an expression Cage knew well. She was ten seconds from slugging him in the balls so he faked left and then went right, darting around Tegen, and headed right back into the hallway.

  From back inside the kitchen, he heard Tegen scream. Grinning, he kept running.

  “You’ll never catch me, Teacup!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  And yeah, he’d been wanting to fuck her for a handful of years now. But still, he missed his friend.

  Cage’s thoughts swam. He vehemently didn’t want her to leave with a chip on her shoulder this time. He wanted her to spend the weekend with him and he damn sure wanted back inside of her.

  “This is infinitely unfair,” Tegen whispered, trailing off as she stared up at him with those seriously sexy eyes of hers. Glancing down, she stubbed her cigarette out on the table ashtray and gestured with her hand for another.

  He tossed her the pack and watched as she placed a fresh cigarette between her trembling lips and, with shaking hands, lit it up.

  “What’s unfair?” he asked.

  Snorting, she shook her head. “You,” she said. “You are un-fucking-fair.”

  Cage watched her take another drag off her smoke, ash it, take another drag.

  Crossing the kitchen, he took the seat opposite her, reached across the table, and slid the cigarette out from between her fingers. Tegen watched him bring it up to his mouth and take a drag. Handing it back, he smiled at her.

  “Spend the weekend with me,” he said quietly. “You say I don’t know you anymore, then spend the fuckin’ weekend with me, Teacup, and show me who the fuck you are now.”

  Staring at him, she shook her head. “Why?” she whispered. “Why does it even matter to you?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “It just does.”

  “I can’t just leave my mom all alone,” she said, but judging by the look on her face she’d already made her decision.

  “Then let’s go pick her up,” he suggested. “And we’ll go out for lunch.”

  Tegen’s mouth dropped open. “What? Like on a fucking date or something?”

  Uh. Cage thought about that for a split second. Was this like a date? He wouldn’t know; he’d never been on a date. He wasn’t sure whether showing up for someone’s lunch break to get a blow job counted or not.

  Whatever.

  He shrugged. “Sure. Why the fuck not?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Dirty stared at his reflection in the mirror. Stared and stared and stared. He didn’t even recognize himself. Without his full beard or his hair, he looked…

  Well, he didn’t look anything like he’d thought he’d look. He’d expected to see the teenage boy he’d been. The face his foster mother had loved, the face she’d made sure to never harm even when his body had been fair game. The face she’d called beautiful. Angelic.

&nbs
p; That face was gone. He blew out a breath of relief.

  Time hadn’t been kind to him. He may have taken a good ten years off his looks by shaving his head and his face, but it did nothing to hide the lines around his eyes and mouth or the tired look in his eyes.

  He wasn’t ugly. But he was no longer beautiful. In fact, he liked what he saw. He was just…him. A man.

  Hearing his cell phone ringing in the other room, Dirty hurriedly slipped into his leathers and exited the bathroom. He snatched the phone off his bed.

  “Wat up, Prez?”

  “We got a problem.”

  So? They always had a problem.

  “What?”

  “One of the grunts heard over the police scanner that Ellie’s been reported as missin’. Had one of our contacts look into it and it turns out motherfuckin’ Mooresville wrote up a report sayin’ he’d seen Ellie at Hank’s place, and next thing he knew he found her fuckin’ purse in the alleyway by the bar. Then the fuckin’ asshole took it one step further, went to her parents’ place, told ’em she’d come back home, told ’em about her job interview, told ’em everything.”

  Dirty’s jaw locked. “What’s his game? Why the fuck would he want her found after what happened?”

  “Fuck if I know,” Deuce said. “Only thing I could think of is he knows we got her. And he wants to use her as leverage or some shit tryin’ to milk us dry. Either that or he’s gonna come for her, take her out, and try to pin it on us.”

  Fuck, he hated that fucker.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “You’re not gonna stand a chance if Mooresville decides to storm your place with his boys,” Deuce growled. “So cover her the fuck up, put her on the back of your bike, and get her fat ass to the club. We’re goin’ on lockdown. This motherfucker thinks he can fuck with my club, he’s about to get a heavy fuckin’ dose of motherfuckin’ reality.”

  Deuce hung up.

  Dirty frowned at his phone. Ellie’s ass wasn’t that fat. But he was less concerned with how Deuce felt about Ellie’s ass than he was about Ellie being on the back of his bike. Behind him. Where he couldn’t see her.