Read Online Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) by Jessica Gadziala - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Gadziala
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pretty?” the more determined of the two pressed.
I winced, standing facing his front door, looking at my feet.
“The prettiest,” he said, making my belly do a weird fluttery thing and I fought the urge to look over at him. “Next to you two,” he added and there was more giggling. “Now get. I have to get my guest inside.”
“Fiiiiine,” they chorused and I could hear their feet taking off across the street.
“You're good with kids,” I remarked, feeling awkward as he slipped a key into his lock and opened the door.
“Lot of the men have kids,” he said, shrugging off the compliment.
He stepped into his house, moving toward the kitchen that was situated just behind the living room of the open floor plan. Everything inside screamed “bachelor”, from the empty wooden floors to the deep burnt orange color of the walls that were without any kind of art, to the worn and comfortable looking black leather couches facing the unnecessarily giant flatscreen. There were no throw pillows on the couches and no curtains on the windows, just woven wooden shades.
I turned toward the kitchen, watching him through the cutout in the wall, smelling fresh coffee brewing and it was almost enough to make me want to cry again. “Why do you live here?” I asked, needing to keep the conversation on safe topics.
Cash leaned his arms down on the counter and ducked his head to watch me. “Last fucking place in the world you would think to look for a one-percenter, ya know?” he asked with a devilish little grin and I felt a fluttering in an area decidedly lower than my stomach. God, but he was just a walking, talking, grinning temptation.
“Good plan,” I mumbled when he just kept staring at me like he expected a response. I shifted my feet and he stood back up, moving around his kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. One sugar.”
He walked out a few minutes later, holding a coffee cup in one hand and gripping a bottle in his other. He handed me the coffee and I took it, sipping even though it was way too hot, just to have something to do. “What's that?” I asked as his hand uncurled to reveal a prescription bottle.
“Pain meds,” he said, untwisting the cap of what looked to be a half-full bottle. “A few of us thought it would be fun to take our bikes off road. Drunk, obviously,” he said, dropping two pills into his hand before twisting the bottle closed and slipping it into his jean pocket. “Sixteen stitches,” he said with a smirk as he lifted up the side of his shirt to show a scar that ran up the side of his body. But I wasn't looking at the scar. What woman in her right mind would be looking at the scar when there were several deliciously perfect sculpted abs to ogle? “Hey Lo,” he said, his voice teasing and my eyes guiltily flew upward. “See something you like, babe?”
Oh hell. God damn it all.
“A couple more hours in the gym could turn that six pack into an eight,” I said, trying to sound casual, trying to not let on that while I had just been viciously beaten a few hours before and hadn't slept in well over twenty-four hours, that I was absolutely turned on.
“Sweetheart, do I look like a man who wastes his time in a gym?” he asked, dropping his shirt and holding out the pills toward me.
“Thanks, but no,” I said, shaking my head. “I need to have my wits about me. I need...”
“Honey, you need to take these pills, go lie down in bed, and get some fuckin' rest. That is all you need to do right now.”
“Cash, I really appreciate it, but I have to talk to Reign and get...”
I didn't get the rest out because, suddenly, he wasn't a safe four feet away from me anymore. He was all up in my personal space and his hand was lifted, his forefinger stroking over my lips gently. I swear that touch went straight to between my legs in a way that had a rush of wetness pooling there. My gaze flew up to his, finding his deep green eyes a little heavy-lidded, a little heated. In response, I
I winced, standing facing his front door, looking at my feet.
“The prettiest,” he said, making my belly do a weird fluttery thing and I fought the urge to look over at him. “Next to you two,” he added and there was more giggling. “Now get. I have to get my guest inside.”
“Fiiiiine,” they chorused and I could hear their feet taking off across the street.
“You're good with kids,” I remarked, feeling awkward as he slipped a key into his lock and opened the door.
“Lot of the men have kids,” he said, shrugging off the compliment.
He stepped into his house, moving toward the kitchen that was situated just behind the living room of the open floor plan. Everything inside screamed “bachelor”, from the empty wooden floors to the deep burnt orange color of the walls that were without any kind of art, to the worn and comfortable looking black leather couches facing the unnecessarily giant flatscreen. There were no throw pillows on the couches and no curtains on the windows, just woven wooden shades.
I turned toward the kitchen, watching him through the cutout in the wall, smelling fresh coffee brewing and it was almost enough to make me want to cry again. “Why do you live here?” I asked, needing to keep the conversation on safe topics.
Cash leaned his arms down on the counter and ducked his head to watch me. “Last fucking place in the world you would think to look for a one-percenter, ya know?” he asked with a devilish little grin and I felt a fluttering in an area decidedly lower than my stomach. God, but he was just a walking, talking, grinning temptation.
“Good plan,” I mumbled when he just kept staring at me like he expected a response. I shifted my feet and he stood back up, moving around his kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. One sugar.”
He walked out a few minutes later, holding a coffee cup in one hand and gripping a bottle in his other. He handed me the coffee and I took it, sipping even though it was way too hot, just to have something to do. “What's that?” I asked as his hand uncurled to reveal a prescription bottle.
“Pain meds,” he said, untwisting the cap of what looked to be a half-full bottle. “A few of us thought it would be fun to take our bikes off road. Drunk, obviously,” he said, dropping two pills into his hand before twisting the bottle closed and slipping it into his jean pocket. “Sixteen stitches,” he said with a smirk as he lifted up the side of his shirt to show a scar that ran up the side of his body. But I wasn't looking at the scar. What woman in her right mind would be looking at the scar when there were several deliciously perfect sculpted abs to ogle? “Hey Lo,” he said, his voice teasing and my eyes guiltily flew upward. “See something you like, babe?”
Oh hell. God damn it all.
“A couple more hours in the gym could turn that six pack into an eight,” I said, trying to sound casual, trying to not let on that while I had just been viciously beaten a few hours before and hadn't slept in well over twenty-four hours, that I was absolutely turned on.
“Sweetheart, do I look like a man who wastes his time in a gym?” he asked, dropping his shirt and holding out the pills toward me.
“Thanks, but no,” I said, shaking my head. “I need to have my wits about me. I need...”
“Honey, you need to take these pills, go lie down in bed, and get some fuckin' rest. That is all you need to do right now.”
“Cash, I really appreciate it, but I have to talk to Reign and get...”
I didn't get the rest out because, suddenly, he wasn't a safe four feet away from me anymore. He was all up in my personal space and his hand was lifted, his forefinger stroking over my lips gently. I swear that touch went straight to between my legs in a way that had a rush of wetness pooling there. My gaze flew up to his, finding his deep green eyes a little heavy-lidded, a little heated. In response, I
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