Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit.
She tried to get his name out, to stop him, to tell him this was not a good idea and she didn’t want this, but nothing came out.
Nothing.
She closed her eyes and waited for the press of his lips.
Her eyes popped open when she felt them, but not where she expected them. They brushed over her forehead instead. He pulled back just slightly and whispered, “Thanks.”
He released her head, gave her knee a quick squeeze, straightened and turned back to his breakfast.
Jemma had to tell herself to breathe because in that instant she forgot how.
He bit into a slice of bacon and chewed, staring straight ahead.
What the fuck just happened?
She couldn’t remember getting this worked up over any man. In fact, the last time she had gotten this flustered was when she was fifteen and sixteen-year-old Bobby Miller had French kissed her, shoved his hand up her shirt and honked her boob behind the shed at the house.
Judd had found out—Jemma had no idea how—tracked Bobby down, punched him so hard the kid ended up knocked out cold. He also threatened Bobby that if he ever touched his sister again, Judd would slice his throat. Bobby had told Jemma that Judd actually pulled a real knife when he made that threat and did a slicing motion across his throat. Then Bobby told her never to speak to him again because she wasn’t worth dying for.
Well, the news of that incident ran rampant through her school and fucked up Jemma’s chances of dating all throughout high school. It wasn’t until she got a car and could drive herself to parties in surrounding towns, where no one knew Judd Scott was her brother, that she not only could get kissed, but finally lose her virginity.
Admittedly, it had sucked.
So had the second time.
And the third.
But eventually she found someone who knew kind of what he was doing so it wasn’t as bad. Out of desperation, Jemma bought her first vibrator at eighteen and discovered what an orgasm was. But that kind of backfired. Once she experienced a real orgasm, she was more disappointed in most of the guys she slept with since they had no clue how to help her achieve one.
But less than a minute prior, Cage’s touch, and then the anticipation of a possible kiss, had not only those butterflies pounding their monster-sized wings inside her belly, but had her pussy pulsing.
She pulled her gaze from his profile, since she was probably staring at him like a lunatic and dropped it to her plate.
Right now, she had no desire to eat the meal she’d prepared, but instead, she felt like grabbing a handful of his hair, dragging him to the floor, stripping him of those soft, worn jeans and riding his cock until those butterflies stopped beating up her insides and her pussy got what it was throbbing for.
Unfortunately, there were several problems with doing any of that.
One, she didn’t do casual.
Two, she didn’t do bikers.
And three, that would really fucking complicate things since they were temporarily living together in a small space.
Oh, and four—and it was a big one—Judge would club Cage again. Though, this time probably skipping the protection of the heavy blanket, which meant he would die and Dyna would become an orphan.
Cage might not be the perfect parent for her, but he was better than nothing.
“Gonna eat your bacon?”
That question brought her tumbling back to the here and now, and the reality of their situation.
She slid her plate next to his. He grabbed a slice of her bacon and shoved it into his mouth. While he chewed, he grumbled, “Got home late last night.”
Home.
That word alone was enough to rip the wings off those fucking butterflies.
Chapter Nine
Cage did his best to bring them both back to Earth. Because, Jesus Christ, the way her breathing had changed and how she had stared at him—like she was a cannibal and he was her next meal—just about made him drag her to the floor, yank up that damn T-shirt, pull off her panties and go balls deep inside her.
And if he did that, he might actually die the next time he saw Judge. He was pretty damn sure it would be a slow death, too.
The club’s sergeant at arms had convinced his sister to come home to help him. Sticking his dick in her was included in the you-better-treat-Jemma-with-respect-or-else threat Judge had given him before she’d showed up.
“I needed a drink.”
Huh? Oh yeah. Why she came home late last night. He was kind of pissed she did.
Not that he could say anything. She wasn’t chained to the trailer, to his daughter or even to him.
“Booze in The Barn.” She could walk the hundred yards to church and grab a beer or a shot without having to go to a bar, even if it was a club-owned one.
“I don’t belong to the club.”
She did. Whether she liked it or not.
She was born to an Original. She was the sister to the Fury’s enforcer, cousin to the treasurer. Fury blood ran thick through her veins. If anyone belonged to the club, she did.
He opened his mouth to argue that point, but knew he’d only be beating his head against a wall and he already had enough bruises to last a while. Instead, he asked, “You head to Crazy Pete’s?”
“Yes.” She plucked a piece of toast from her plate and took a bite.
“Were you lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?”
“A drink.”
“Nothin’ else?”
Her eyes burned a hole into the side of his face as he concentrated on the mug in his hand.
“Like what?”
He almost shrugged but caught himself in time. “What’s normally at a bar?”
“Booze?”
“And company.”
“Wasn’t looking for company but found some anyway.”
He twisted on the stool and put his mug down. “Yeah? Anyone I know?”
“Trip, Stella and Dodge. Ozzy also did a drive-by. I’m not sure who the woman was who was glued to his side.”
“Maybe Lizzy.”
“Don’t know and don’t care. That’s his business. Just like where I went last night was mine.”
“Just worried.”
Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “You worried?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Were you worried I’d hook up with some random dick and if he killed me and chopped me up into little pieces, you wouldn’t have anyone to help you?”
A muscle in his jaw popped. He tried to conceal his rising irritation with sarcasm. “Yeah, Jemma. That’s why I was fuckin’ worried.”
“No reason to worry about me. I’ve been on my own a long time. And I don’t do random one-night-stands.”
“Good. ‘Cause it was bad enough at Dutch’s. Don’t want strange comin’ in and out of this trailer.”
“Oh, suddenly Mr. Let-me-knock-up-an-Amish-girl has morals?”
“Ain’t about me, it’s about Dyna.” That was both the truth and a lie.
“Of course it is.” She shot him a big smile he didn’t like. “Don’t worry, if I decide to slide down some strange dick, I’ll do it elsewhere.”
“Just said you don’t do randoms.”
“They’re only considered random the first night. The second night they’re not so random.”
He curled his fingers around his mug and took a much needed, calming breath. “Jem—”
“How about if you don’t worry about my sex life and I don’t worry about yours?”
“That’d be best.” Not really, but it would have to be for now.
“Okay, then,” she huffed.
“’Kay, then.” He popped her last piece of bacon into his mouth and carefully slipped off the stool. “Gotta get ready for work or I’m gonna be late.”
Without looking back, he went in his bedroom, carefully put on his socks and boots, slipped a belt through the jeans’ loops and snagged a shirt out of his stash of old T-shirts h
e wore to work. Once they got a hole or became threadbare, they moved to that category.
Once again, he had a hard time putting his arms through the sleeves without excruciating pain, so he left it hanging around his neck and headed back out to the kitchen.
Not only was his baby helpless to get dressed, so was he.
But, hey, at least Jemma was a lot better looking and smelled a lot better, too, than his previous help. Before moving into the trailer, he’d had to get whoever was available in the bunkhouse or The Barn to help him. And that had been a little weird. Just being that close to another man alone proved he’d never do a threesome or a train with any of his brothers.
No fucking way.
But now Jem was here and could help him with his shirts and his boot laces, if he needed it.
Which he did.
Even better, it was a great excuse to get close to her again. Especially with her only wearing that damn T-shirt. It barely covered her long-assed legs and when she had sat on the stool, it had inched up even higher. He’d actually gotten a couple glimpses of the pink panties she wore.
He’d never wanted to lift a pair of panties to his nose and inhale a woman’s scent so badly before. It was so fucking weird. He didn’t have any kinks, so he was never into sniffing women’s panties or clothes, or even hair.
But there was something about Jemma that made him want to do that. Like if he inhaled her, she would be inside him and a part of him.
It was the strangest goddamn thing.
One, she was off limits. Judge had been crystal motherfucking clear about that.
Two, he didn’t want to do anything stupid and lose her help with Dyna.
And three, it could get really fucking awkward since they had to live together—even temporarily—in the trailer.
The best thing for both of them would be if he stuck to his side of the mobile home and she stuck to hers. They could just meet in the middle when dealing with Dyna.
He stopped in front of her, where she was scraping the plates into the now empty garbage bag he’d used to carry the food over from the bunkhouse.
She looked up and without a word, placed the dishes in the sink and turned toward him. He only hissed twice with pain as she helped him get his arms into the sleeves. Once she did, he pulled it the rest of the way down his torso.
“Can you get my laces?”
She arched one dark eyebrow at him, but with only a twist to her lips, squatted at his feet and snugly laced up his boots.
The sight of her almost on her knees before him made him grin but he quickly hid it as she rose back to a stand.
“Anything else I can help you with?”
He bit back a snort because he actually had a nice little list of things she could help him with, but he doubted that was what she meant. “Nope.”
She took a step back. “Where are her onesies, diapers and the rest?”
“On the shelves in the laundry room like you suggested.”
She nodded, a pleased look on her face. Probably because he’d taken her suggestion. But it had been a good one and he would’ve been stupid not to consider it.
Now he just needed to get some sort of changing table in there. As well as a crib for Dyna to sleep in.
Fuck.
He needed to figure out how to get those things for free or at least as cheaply as possible.
Or he could sell his perfectly restored Impala convertible, buy a practical car and the shit he needed for his kid.
He grimaced. Even if he did that, it would take a while to find the right buyer for the right money, and he needed shit before then.
But still...
No, he couldn’t get rid of his baby. Giving up his classic Chevy would almost be as bad as if he had given up Dyna for adoption. It was his. And he’d restored it from the frame up himself.
He didn’t have much but he had his daughter, his car and his sled.
And right now, a roof over their heads.
The rest he’d figure out. He’d get whatever she needed, even if it meant selling sperm or plasma.
Both their heads turned toward the blanket in the living room when the baby made a squeak.
“Someone’s awake.”
Cage watched Jemma move into the living room and held his breath as she bent over to pick up Dyna. Not only did he get a good look at her long bare legs, but he had an unobstructed view of her ass covered in pink cotton.
He groaned softly. Her ass was sweet perfection. Fuck him.
She turned with Dyna in her arms and holding the baby pressed the soft cotton of that tee to her unrestrained tits underneath it.
Dyna began rooting against those luscious tits with her face. He almost groaned again. Yeah, kid, I’d like to suck on those, too. If he tried, he might get a fist to the face and his nose still had a way to go to heal.
He needed to get the hell out of this trailer before his hard-on got any bigger and became obvious. “Gotta go or I’m never gonna pay off my debt to Dutch.”
She carried Dyna into the kitchen and grabbed the container of formula that was sitting out on the counter. That shit was expensive as fuck, too. No wonder women breastfed. It had to save them a fortune.
“You’d think him being her grandfather, he’d be in no rush to be paid back.”
“Then you don’t know Dutch.” He filled one of the empty baby bottles with the right amount of bottled spring water, took the scoop of formula from her fingers, dumped it in, and handed the scoop back to her. She sealed the can back up as he tightened the nipple onto the bottle and shook it enough to mix it. He ran it under the hot tap for a few seconds to warm the formula up just to the right temp, then handed it to Jemma.
He could now make formula in his sleep. In fact, he might have actually done it while sleeping a couple times. Not only were babies expensive, they were fucking exhausting.
But now he was just as much an expert at mixing baby formula as he was rebuilding a Holley two-barrel carburetor.
“He’s payin’ for this place,” he reminded Jemma as he stepped even closer.
Her green eyes lifted to his and he stared down at her for a couple of heartbeats.
A flush rushed up her throat when he reached toward her. He was tempted to touch her lips, which were parted slightly, but instead he did what he originally intended. He brushed his fingers over Dyna’s sparse soft dark hair.
Jemma’s breath ruffled his own hair as he leaned closer to give his daughter a kiss. “Bye, monkey,” he whispered, only a couple inches from the baby’s face. Dyna’s eyes were glued to him and she was no longer fussing for her bottle.
It wasn’t just Dyna watching him.
Jemma had gone completely still. Like she was afraid to move. Cage noticed goosebumps had broken out over Jemma’s skin and her nipples pebbled under the thin cotton.
He didn’t pull away, but hesitated there, near her neck, and he took a slow, deep inhale. When he exhaled just as slowly, he let it sweep over her skin.
Cage heard her breath slip in almost a sigh from between her lips. He straightened and stared down again into her face. The flush had crept from her throat into her cheeks, her eyes seemed a little wider than normal and her grip on Dyna had tightened.
“Gotta go,” he whispered.
He turned and exited the trailer before he decided to skip work altogether.
When he walked down the steps, he wore a grin.
Dyna finally had a stroller. Jemma had no idea who dropped it off, but a brand-new one, still in the box, sat outside the door when Cage had come home. He dragged the huge box into the trailer and unpacked it to find a stroller and a matching carrier that could be used as part of the stroller or as a car seat. It was perfect since Cage only had one car seat and kept it in the old, beat-up Honda he’d been driving around, not just to haul Dyna but because riding his sled was still too painful for his ribs.
She could put the second car seat in her Volvo, or use it as a carrier when she couldn’t use the stroller.
Whoever bought it had spent a nice chunk of change. But the gift that showed up mysteriously on their doorstep was proof this brotherhood had each other’s back. They weren’t going to let Cage and his daughter go without. If he couldn’t afford the shit he needed, someone else who could wouldn’t hesitate to help.
However, by not putting their name on the gift, Cage wouldn’t feel pressured to pay that person back. The selflessness both impressed Jemma and warmed her heart.
She decided to give the new Cadillac of strollers a spin this morning and take Dyna on a little journey over to The Barn. Jemma hadn’t had much of a chance to explore since coming to the farm a couple of days ago. Even though she wasn’t officially a part of the Fury, she was curious about the club’s church and how the guys were living, including her nephew who had a room in the rear bunkhouse portion.
While eating leftovers Lottie had dropped off when she’d popped in for a quick visit—her aunt’s excuse for a chance to cuddle with Dyna—Cage had mentioned that their meeting room was on the upper level of The Barn and two apartments took up the second floor of the bunkhouse.
Sig and Autumn lived in one. Deacon and Justice lived in the other, but Reese crashed there with him on the weekends. During the week, her cousin took the twenty minute or so drive to Mansfield to shack up with his ol’ lady in her big house on a mountain.
The idea of that made Jemma smile. Deacon was more like a brother to her than a cousin, so she was happy to see him happy. He’d always been a dog, so she had been shocked when he told her over the phone a few weeks ago he found “the one.”
The one. She shook her head.
While visiting yesterday, Lottie seemed to be thrilled with both of her boys’ choices in women to settle down with. Not that either was exactly “settled.” They were just in a serious relationship.
What her aunt wasn’t happy with was her boys wearing Fury colors. They were forbidden to wear their cuts in her house. She had cut ties with Jemma’s father, Ox, when he got involved with the original Fury and the MC began to cause problems in town. And elsewhere.
Like Jemma, Lottie didn’t want to see Judge follow in his father’s footsteps, meaning in prison and then six-feet under. Her aunt also tried to talk Ry into staying with her for the summer instead of on the farm, but both Ry and Judge put their foot down about that. The whole reason he was in the bunkhouse was to take the summer to get to know the father he was stolen from. At least by staying on the property, he was close. If Saylor hadn’t already been a part of the Judge/Cassie household, he probably would’ve ended up staying with them.
Blood & Bones: Cage (Blood Fury MC Book 5) Page 13