For Your Sake (23 page)

~~~***~~~

             
Ben was right – the damn shower was too small.

              And he sure as shit couldn’t shower standing perfectly still.  His width kept separating the curtained circle as he moved, causing him to towel more water off the black and white checked tile floor than his body.  All he wanted to do was get clean as fast as possible, but lost precious time looking for a bar of plain soap.  What was a chick’s aversion to the bar stuff in favor of some poofy, mesh thing and squeezy gel?  He swore he smelled like one of those scented candle places.

              Balling up his dirty clothes, he went to Eva’s bedroom to be sure he didn’t leave anything on the floor.  He smiled over the bed she obviously made before leaving, the comforter and pillow covers white with brown and green embroidery. Okay, the girl had a neat streak in her somewhere.  The head and footboard was a heavy, wrought iron circular design with clear green glass balls on the tops of the four posts and the furniture was a dark wood with matching wrought iron pulls. 

One of the small, middle drawers was partially open and he went to go close, but instead, paused his finger over the pull. 
Don’t
, he told himself. 
The girl trusts you not to go through her things like some pervert.
  He already invaded her life enough, but justified that it was almost halfway open.  Hooking his finger on top, he pulled the drawer open, grinning over his luck as a bunch of colored lace and silk stared back at him.  Something bright red caught his attention to which his sick curiosity got the best of him.  Reaching in, he pulled out a tiny red thong trimmed with white lace.  Holy fuck, would he love to see her ass in this.

Putting it back, he slammed the drawer shut and scolded himself.  Seeing nothing left behind, he went back downstairs, the same tranquil air of quiet surrounding the old Victorian.  After one coat of paint, he went to watch a bit of television in the living room, but instead soaked in the natural sounds of the house, tires softly rolling against the pavement outside, a faint, tweet of a bird, the smell of newly finished floors mixed with the freshly drying paint.  This was nice.  He didn’t mind hard work - especially when he was bettering something.  It made him feel useful, gave him purpose, infused him with a bit of life each bullet in someone else’s head took out of him.  The outlaw life wasn’t just a choice, but a hard commitment you go into full blast.  He already had a pretty good head start before coming to the MC, that tragic afternoon when he was seventeen which eventually became a stepping stone to the calm, cool killer he could be. 

But since meeting Eva, he was slowly beginning to realize he needed to balance that, to have more than just the club, to enjoy looking forward to Sundays rather than scrambling for something to fill the day up to make it go by quicker.  She made him feel normal and treated him so.  But if the choice she made stood, if she wanted him around more than just a night and the day after, he would eventually have to be open with her about some things.  But not before she granted him the same in return.  She obviously had an issue with her mother who didn’t pull up in Wes’ search.

He heard her car pull up in the driveway and hoped she wouldn’t be pissed at what he did.  Knowing she had beer and food to carry in, he went out the slider and met her as she was taking two shopping bags out of the back.  He saw the wine and grinned, folding it under his arm as he grabbed the two six packs – nice.  “How’d it go?”

She politely smiled and nodded. “With Elle?  Great. She roped me into going to some small business thing Tuesday night. ”

Her face didn’t match her enthusiasm.  “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine.”

He wasn’t that oblivious to the mysterious habits of women to know that the word ‘fine’ could constitute everything from
‘okay’
to
‘I’m fucking pissed, but am going to smile till it hurts while bottling it up inside while you figure it out’
.  He hoped she wasn’t one of those bi-polar chicks – he liked her too much for his non-tolerance for mind games.

As soon as she walked in, he knew she sensed it – the smell of paint.  He didn’t say anything, just let her put the bags down then walk into the dining room, stopping in front of the now, newly painted wall where the mural formerly was.  “Before you say anything, I saw you sanded and had the paint, primer and supplies.  If I crossed the line, tell me darlin’.  Just I’ve done my share of painting on labor crews and thought I’d…….surprise you.”

She listened, but didn’t look at him.  Just stared at the wall.  And stared. And stared.  Then……smiled.  “I can’t believe you did this.”

If she wasn’t smiling he’d be halfway to Dell’s buying more primer to cover up that green.  “So…..you like?”

She nodded.  “I do.  I can’t believe you got it done so fast.”

“Like I told you, darlin’ – worked on a lot of construction crews.  May wanna consider making me your handyman after all.”

“Maybe I will.”  She walked over to him, reaching her arms around his neck.  She looked to be about five seven, maybe in an inch taller in those boots and still couldn’t reach his face on tip-toes.  He happily obliged, leaning down to meet her lips as they pressed against his.  “Thank you…..so much.”

The suede of her skirt felt good against his hands, wondering which pair of panties she pulled out of that drawer this morning.  As good as she felt, as much as the sound of her voice thanking him caused him to swell, as much as the scent of her hair and skin drove him nuts, he wasn’t making a move.  Her house, her boundaries.  How it proceeded from here was all up to her, so he stepped back.  “Welcome.  Consider it payment for the beer.”  She looked a bit disappointed, which was a good sign, but kept to his word.  “So, what’s on the menu, darlin’?”

“Oh, uh…..” she went back and got the bags, carrying them into the kitchen.  “Teriyaki beef stir-fry over mashed potatoes.”

He was famished and wished he took her up on her offer to make breakfast, but, again, didn’t want to put her out.  “Sounds great.  Figured out the fireplace.”  He went for his hoodie draped over the kitchen chair.  “I’ll bring some wood in to start later.”

She had just opened, poured and took a sip of wine when she noticed what was under his hoodie on the back of the chair.  Under his cut.  He saw her freeze, eyes trained on the gun in his holster as he went to open the slider.  “Eva?”

“Ben, are you in any kind of trouble?”

Shit – not the conversation he wanted to be having with her right now.  For the entire day he felt normal and so very relaxed.  Not once was he plagued by that night where his two brothers died a bloody death, or having to put a bullet in his sister’s brain because of it, or having Emilio Santagio pull rank as well as the financial rug out from under them.  But he had drawn it on her last night when she scared the shit out of him – in her own home.  She didn’t bring it up then as they both got otherwise occupied.  Now with an entire day to reflect, it was all coming back.  She wasn’t ‘fine’ after all.  “Why do you ask?”

“You carry a gun.”

“Lot of people carry guns.”

“Not everyone’s responsible for getting people killed.  Last night, you said you
‘trusted someone and it got people killed’
.  I didn’t ask because, well, we got…… sidetracked.  But if we’re going to do…….this – me, you, in my house, then I need to know.  Are you in any trouble I can get caught up in?”

She wasn’t stupid.  Outlaws don’t necessarily have to advertise their activities for civilians to know that they’re not always all about cancer runs, bike shows and fundraisers.  Yeah, they were handling some shit, but it didn’t affect her.  Plus he wasn’t going to make the mistake of trusting someone he barely knew with club business.  He couldn’t imagine Eva locked in the body shop, on her knees with his silencer in her mouth.  No, he…..couldn’t.  But if he had to……

“No, you’re not.  Club has their own issues, but it don’t affect you.”

“But if it affects you, and you’re with me, then it affects me.”  She nervously downed the entire glass of wine.

“Eva.”  He went over to her, cupping her shoulders.  “You got a problem with this, then lay it out now.”

She took a deep sigh, then gazed up at him.  Those gorgeous blue eyes didn’t look so sure.  “I overheard something at the package store.”

Son of a bitch.  Was she kidding?  “Ticker?”

She nodded.

Fuck!  “What did you hear?”

“Guy in the back screaming in Italian.  Think he was on the phone.  When he got off he said…..”

He squeezed her shoulders just a tad firmer.  “He said….what?”

“Bastards.  Mother, fucking, bastard bikers.”

Double fuck!  Not only did Eva link the animosity, it was obvious Joey Perrone realized Dewey’s MIA, the parts they confiscated that night missing and figured the Skulls were onto them.  It also proved that the Santagio’s not only may have set up the warehouse sting, but may be trying to ice them out of their chop shop gig.  Fucking, guinea bastards.

“Eva, listen to me.”  He released her shoulders and rubbed them.  “We’re not exactly friendly with everyone in this town.  Some people we’ve rubbed the wrong way have issues.  We know the kid who works at Ticker – his cousin owns the place.  All I can say is a little something went down that pissed him off.  He’ll get over it.”

She listened, not sure if she believed him.  “Last night you said something about people getting killed.  This has nothing to do with it?”

Actually, it did, but – again – he couldn’t tell her that.  He shouldn’t be telling her this much, but she deserved some kind of answer for what she overheard.  “Eva?”

“Yes?”

“Nothing I’m involved in with the club will come back to you.  That’s all I can say right now.  You understand?”  She moved back, going to pour another glass of wine, but he needed her answer.  “Eva?  Do you understand?”

“I want to say yes.  I want to believe you.  I just…”she paused, looking uncertain and a bit scared, “this is new to me, Ben.  I’ve been alone – separated from anyone I ever loved or been close to.  But I chose it, because I’m afraid to get close.  Afraid to get hurt, or hurt someone myself.”

He threaded his fingers through her hair.  “How could you possibly hurt someone, darlin’?”

Her voice was a coarse whisper.  “Because of my mother.”

His fingers massaged the back of her neck.  “Tell me.”

She shook her head.  “No.”

“Please.”

“Not yet.  Like you, I need to trust you first.  I barely know you either, yet we’ve…..I let you……”

He bent down, nuzzling his face against her hair - soft and smelled so damn fucking good.  “….inside your body?” He answered.

She caved, leaning into him, arms going around his waist.  “What am I doing?  What are we doing?”

Instead of answering her he kissed her – hard.  Hoping to make her forget fears or questions.  He had to be careful and not make the same mistake twice, but he also couldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.  He would do his damndest not to let anything happen to her, to ever let any club shit fall into her lap.  He threw the gauntlet down and she accepted.  Last night started it, her admission this morning sealed it.  And now her surrendering body in his arms right now put the stamp on it.  He needed her to believe him.  To trust him.

Her tongue darted into his mouth, startling and hardening him in an instant, if he wasn’t so already.  His hands went crazy – down the silkiness of her top, the soft suede of her skirt and over her ass until he reached the hem of her skirt.   Fingertips made contact with bare thighs like a repeat of last night.  But he didn’t want her on a chair.  Or a couch.  Or even the kitchen counter, as hot as it would’ve been to bend her over and push that skirt up.  No, he wanted her laid down properly.  No amount of stairs was going to hold him back.

“
This
,” he hoisted her up as he did last night, “is what we’re doing, Eva.”

Chapter Fourteen

Eva felt disconnected from herself.  She was no longer a homeowner, a business owner, an employer, a friend, a daughter who lost a father, a woman who chose to go her own path alone.  Right now she was a bundle of raw nerves which were being stroked by hands the size of bear paws.  Fingertips padded with callouses erotically scraped against her bare legs as she felt her back hit the mattress before her boots came off. 

And then she looked up at him and wanted to die from the anticipation.  Dark-blonde hair pulled back tight at the nape of his neck, amber eyes looking as if they wanted to devour her before he pulled his t-shirt off.  His body was beautiful – big, broad and sculpted to muscular perfection– like the mountain he went up against the night they met.  Darker hair spattered across his chest, trailing down to a thin, sensual line which disappeared under his belt.  He grumbled a deep laugh, as if he followed where her eyes went.  “Patience, darlin’,” he said, removing her top to reveal a champagne colored bra.  “Am I gonna find something similar below?”

She was never bold.  Never so brazen.  But this beast of a man who was pure, raw sex on a pair of strong legs brought something out in her.  Scooting back on the bed, she reached behind to unzip her skirt.  Then, standing up, she shimmied it down revealing matching panties in that exquisite combination of lace and silk.  “Answer your question?”