Free The Cut by Carol Lynne: Kings of Bedlam MC Series, Book One by Carol Lynne

been in to wake her?
    She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, pleased that some of the soreness in her muscles had melted away while she’d slept. Pulling the hem of the borrowed T-shirt down, she made her way from the room. His door was still closed, but she wasn’t sure if that meant he was sleeping or hadn’t returned home. Wandering into the living room, she immediately noticed him stretched out on the deep leather sofa.
    “I thought you might sleep through ’til morning,” he said without opening his eyes. Her pussy clenched at the scratchy sound of his deep voice.
    “Did you talk to the funeral home?” she asked, sitting on the coffee table beside him.
    He stretched his muscular arms over his head and opened his eyes to stare over at her. “Yeah. They’re going to go ahead and cremate her on Friday. They asked about a memorial service, but I told them I’d have to discuss it with you.” He sat up and did his best to tame his wild, shoulder-length hair.
    “No, no service.” She felt tears sting her eyes. “If you’ll drive me, I’d like to have something on my own at Dad’s grave.”
    “Of course I will.”
    When his gaze traveled to her bare legs, her nipples hardened. Christ. Without thinking, she squeezed her thighs together to ease the ache in her pussy.
    He grunted. “Answer a question.”
    “Okay.”
    He scooted to the edge of the couch, bracketing her legs with his. “Why’d you throw pictures of me away?”
    Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She stood, intending to get away from him before he saw the truth in her eyes.
    He reached out and grabbed her wrist, keeping her between his thighs. “Answer me, goddammit.”
    Held in place, she stared at the wall over his head. “Because I realized how unhealthy it was to keep them around.”
    “Unhealthy for who?”
    She shook her head. She couldn’t do this. “Please let me go. I’ve been humiliated enough, don’t you think?”
    Still holding her wrist, he stood, putting his body in direct contact with hers. “I won’t push it for now, but you’ll eventually tell me.” He released her wrist and wrapped his arms around her waist. “We have a lot of things to talk about once you’re feeling better. Like why you were wearing my Harley shirt when Gordon attacked you.”
    She couldn’t help herself. She rested her cheek against his chest for just a moment before pulling away. “I think you mean once I’m looking better, because other than a slight throb in my eye, I’m fine.”
    Stake cupped her face between his big hands and tilted her head back until their eyes met. “Even bruised you’re more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever known.”
    “Yeah, right. I remember the women who used to hang all over you.” She didn’t mention how jealous she’d always been of the big-titted sluts.
    “Do you? Because I don’t. I’ve had bitches in my bed since I was fourteen, and I don’t remember a fuckin’ thing about any of them.” He ran his thumb over Santana’s lower lip, avoiding the healing split. “I want you so bad I can’t stand it.”
    She touched the tip of her tongue to his thumb. She had no idea why he’d want her, but she’d thought of nothing else for years. “Then take me,” she whispered.
    He leaned down and brushed his lips over her mouth. “Someday, but not yet.”

 
    Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Stake heard the backdoor open behind him just as he ended the call with Jack. “They’re finally done with your house, so I’ll run over and pack up your clothes,” he told Santana.
    “Can I go?” she asked.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He shoved his phone into his back pocket before turning around to face her. “I don’t mind doing it.”
    She tucked her long dark hair behind her ears. “I think Momma had a black dress in her closet. I want to see if it fits, so I can wear it when we go to the cemetery.”
    “I’ll buy ya a black dress.” He’d called Cecil to see if either