Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (14 page)

Scrunching up her face in exaggerated consideration, she urged him, “Hmmm, I’m listening.”

She was in such a joking mood that he hurried to explain his plans. “I have steaks and other food, wine, and beer; plus—and here’s the sweetener—I have five different kinds of premium tequila in my house. I would like you to have dinner with me tonight. Wait, not just me, because there will be a few Rebels here, but you already know them all from Jackson’s. I even have some of Brandy’s best cupcakes.” Here, he paused, trying to gauge her response and grinning as she nodded encouragingly towards him to continue. “That’s the first proposition—eat, drink, and make merry with friends. What do you say?”

She thought a moment. “Only if I can help you get things ready, Mason. Would you allow that?”

His brow furrowed for a second; her phrasing was somewhat odd, but he got that she’d agreed to stay for dinner. This was a huge step, and he was proud of her for taking him up on the invitation, finally. “You betcha; I can always use all the help I can get in the kitchen. Okay, now for the second proposition. You know my life has been pretty hardscrabble at times, yeah? I keep an odd assortment of medical equipment and supplies because of it, both here and at the clubhouse. I happen to have two different kinds of suture scissors, and if you’d allow it, I can make you more comfortable tonight by removing your stitches.” He waited for her response.

Furrowing her eyebrows at him with a half-smile on her face, she asked, “You have suture scissors and know how to take out stitches?”

He nodded his head slowly with a wry look. “It is a skill that has come in handy over the years. I can put stitches in too, if needed and it’s not too deep a slice.”

Mica grinned at him, and he laughed out loud as she said, “I know what I want to do first, Mason. These things itch like heck, and I would really appreciate it if you could take them out!”

They grabbed the groceries and walked to the door. Mason trailed slightly behind Mica through the kitchen, pointing to the center island for her to set the bags down. “Let’s get things started for dinner first, and then we’ll tackle the hard stuff,” he said.

Setting her up with a stool in the prep area of the large kitchen, he unpacked the groceries as she put together a marinade for the steaks. He greased and salted the potatoes before wrapping them in foil, and they were now in the oven. Out on the brick patio, tucked into the angle between the house and garage, he got the charcoal grill started and ready. The beer and wine were put into the mini-fridge on the back porch, and everything else was ready, just waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive.

“Alrighty, let’s get these stitches out of you, babe. We’ll start with the ones on your back. I’ll need you to lay on your stomach and take off or pull up your shirt. You can choose the couch or my bed; both are through that way.” He pointed through a doorway at the opposite end of the kitchen from the outside door. “I’ll grab my stuff and find you in a minute.”

Mica thought to herself that Mason knew her so well; having a choice was important. If he had suggested one piece of furniture, or one room over another, she would probably have panicked and gone home, but since he gave her the control to choose, it soothed her nerves and made it okay to do this. Plus, she
really
wanted the stitches out. They were making her crazy, and she wanted a really good, hot shower with a scratchy loofa, and couldn’t have that until she was stitch-free.

Wandering through the door he indicated, she smiled when she saw his living room. It was completely filled with overstuffed furniture arranged in groups around the room. It made sense, because he often had large groups over, mostly motor club guys and their wives or girlfriends, so he would need more seating than most people. A gigantic couch was positioned directly in front of an obscenely large flat screen TV, and she was sticky enough not to want to lay face down on that leather monstrosity. She wrinkled her nose at her mental imagine of her adhering to the leather, or making embarrassing squeaking noises as she moved.
Ugh
.

There was a short hallway going across the front of the house, and she walked up it, pushing and opening doors as she went. Closet, a half-bathroom, a generic bedroom—she really hoped that wasn’t Mason’s—another generic bedroom…
really, a clone?
At the end of the hallway was one last door, and as she turned the handle to open it, she felt a little buzz of anxiety go through her.
Maybe the couch is the better choice after all,
she thought, but then the door opened and she paused, smiling at Mason’s bedroom, because it was so perfectly him.

Not a typical bachelor pad, he had a huge, king size, canopy-free, four-poster bed with a mattress that was impossibly tall, but totally fit his physique. On the walls above the dark wood furniture were black and white pictures of what looked to be family standing awkwardly. They were posed singly or in couples beside cars, and in larger groups on cabin porches, always in rural settings and seldom smiling. Some of the photos looked to be decades old, and she wondered about the stories that probably lay behind each of them.

Poking at the mattress, she found it to be firm, but soft. Running the comforter between her fingers, she smiled, because it was microfiber and down, as light and soft as a feather. This would be a good place to rest and hide from the world, and it felt as safe as Mason did.

Mason came into the room behind her just as she opened her arms wide like a swan dive. Giving a little jump, she flung herself up face-first onto the mattress. He laughed aloud at her antics, carrying a small basket of medical supplies over to the bed and sitting down beside her. “Okay, babe, shuck off your shirt for me; let me look at the stitches to make sure none of them are infected. We want to see that they aren’t growing into the skin, either. Either of those would take different supplies, so we want to make sure we’re all setup before we start.”

Mica reached behind her head and snagged the collar of her shirt, pulling and scrunching the material up behind her neck without taking it over her head. “Will this work, Mason?”

“No, babe. It needs to be off, so we can get to the back of your head too. We have a few to take out of your noggin, remember?” he cajoled her, gently tapping the top of her head. “I don’t think there are any stitches under your bra, so you can leave that on if you want.”

“Okay,” she said agreeably, and unselfconsciously pulled her shirt all the way over her head, baring the soft lines of her back for Mason. He sat still for a second as he recognized she had a great many scars on her back, which were all much older than the ones from last week’s attack.

His heart stuttered in his chest as he realized she had been hurt badly, over and over. These scars didn’t seem to stop with her back, but continued down beneath the waistband of her jeans, and across her ribs toward
s the front of her body.

The one time he had seen her body before, he had been careful not to look at her overlong, and he wondered what he would have done then if he’d seen the scars. His hand reached out without conscious volition, stroking the skin near the stitches in her back. “Okay. These don’t look red or angry; that’s great.”

His fingers parted the long strands of her hair, exposing the stitches across the back of her skull where the hair had been trimmed close to the scalp when they were stitching up the wound. “These look really good, too. Let me get some antiseptic and I’ll be right back.” He kept his voice even as he spoke to her.

He stood, walked up the hall, and into the bathroom, retaining tight control over himself. He was carefully coaching his reactions so she would not know the depth of anger her scars stirred in him. He never wanted her to be self-conscious with him, and understood his reaction today would set the tone going forward. He had to keep it under wraps, keep things easy and calm.

Dammit
, he thought as his doorbell sounded,
motherfuckers are early.
He yelled up the hallway from the half-bath for them to come on in; it was open. Holding fast to the cabinet door, his knuckles were still white with rage, and he started when a cough came from the doorway. Turning his head, he saw Daniel Rupert staring at him with a puzzled look.

“Do you always invite people in sight unseen, Mason?”

“Naw, just bastages like you,” Mason responded with a short laugh, nodding his head at Daniel. “I’m working on Mica; give me a minute.” Grabbing the antiseptic from the shelf, he exited the bathroom and went back up the hallway with Daniel trailing behind. He wasn’t thinking about Mica being on his bed in her underwear; Mason was simply focused on getting this behind them, so they could move on to dinner.

Daniel stopped short in the doorway, jealousy filling his gut. He drew in a deep breath when he saw Mica spread out on the bed, facedown, and shirtless. His darkening eyes flicked to Mason, taking in the basket of supplies and the antiseptic in his hands.

Nodding slightly and consciously unclenching his jaw, he asked, “Missed the ER visit, did she?” He grinned at Mica as she turned her head to see him, and watched as she drew in her hands, folding them underneath her body against her chest. “Mason’s taking out my stitches,” she said helpfully, but very softly, aware that this was the second time he had seen this much of her skin. “Hi, Daniel.”

“Hey, Mica. I see that. It’s a good thing you have an all-around handyman for a neighbor. I’m pretty respectable with tape and gauze myself; it comes with the hockey territory since we’re always getting banged up. Stitches, too. I don’t think I’ve had anyone else take my stitches out for years now.”

He walked over to the bed. “These look really good; you’ve healed up nicely. I’d think even Mason should be able to handle removing them.” He was smiling at her, making this only about her healing injuries, not the expanse of beautiful skin displayed in this unexpected setting. Mason caught his eye and threw him a roll of tape.

“Hey, tape and gauze guy, make yourself useful, fucker.” Daniel grinned at him and started tearing off lengths of tape, gauging the size of the gauze bandages they would need to cover the wound sites.

An hour later, they were all sitting on the glassed-in patio, along with a half-dozen Rebels who’d shown up for the grill party. The food was nearly ready, and everyone had a pleasant buzz from their libation of choice. Mason looked around the group proudly, nodding to himself; these were all people he wanted in his life.
Even Daniel
, he thought with amusement, seeing with interest that his arm was across the back of the lounge behind Mica. She was relaxed and leaning towards him casually, listening to him talk to the group about an upcoming hockey game. Mason thought Daniel might be a good fit for her, and the man could sure hold his own in a fight…but would he fight for Mica?

22 -
            
The kiss

Daniel had strolled across the street with Mica when the party broke up sometime after midnight. He reached out, wrapping her hand in his large one and lacing their fingers together as they stepped through Mason’s back gate, walking the short distance to her back porch. They were talking comfortably about nothing in particular, just casual conversation about the food and people tonight. She put her head back and laughed at his imitation of Mason holding a turning fork while standing over the grill, admitting it was pretty damn good.

Daniel tightened his grip on her hand as she stepped up onto the first porch step, placing their faces nearly level as he pulled her around to face him. “I had a really good time tonight, Mica. I’m glad I crashed the party; it was nice to sit and relax with you.” He looked searchingly into her face, but shadows casting across her features by the streetlights made it hard to determine what she was thinking or feeling.

Moving slowly, not wanting to startle her, he lifted his free hand and touched her face with his fingertips, slowly stroking across the angle of her cheekbone. He ran his thumb down to rub across her lips, dragging her bottom one down and opening her mouth slightly for a second. He sucked in a breath as he was rewarded with a glimpse of the tip of her tongue running across the edge of her teeth. He slid his hand back up to cup her jaw and tugged her forward, tilting her face up towards him.

Her eyes closed slowly, dark lashes drifting down to touch her pale skin as her chin lifted under his direction. Pausing for a bare moment, he looked intently at her face, they were close enough he could feel her breath across his lips, and then he lowered to fit his mouth to hers in a gentle, searching kiss. Her lips relaxed against his, kissing him back softly, and she lifted their joined hands to rest the back of his hand in the heat between her breasts, pulling their bodies closer together.

The press of her body against his sent a thrill through his, straight to his groin, and his cock began to grow and swell in response to their closeness. He groaned deeply against her mouth, bringing his hand to slide back past her jaw and into the hair at the base of her skull to pull her closer, aware of the tender area there, but wanting to touch the silky length that was so much a part of her. She sighed, the small noise opening her mouth to him, and he devoured her moan and deepened the kiss, stroking into her with his tongue.

He tasted her eagerly, and found her willingly meeting him thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke with her tongue. She was exploring his mouth as keenly as he was discovering hers, and the interactions were skyrocketing his arousal to new heights. Tilting his head and slanting across her lips roughly, he pressed his advantage to turn the still-gentle kiss into a hard torrent of passion. Sweeping his tongue into every corner of her mouth, he wrenched a louder moan from her that he also swallowed greedily. The kiss went on for long minutes as they ate at each other’s mouths, making small noises of pleasure and passion that fueled them even more, and made him want to be inside her in other ways.