Read Online Cash (The Henchmen MC Book 2) by Jessica Gadziala - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Gadziala
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felt my lips parting.
I realized my mistake a second later when I felt the pills slip inside as Cash smiled softly. “Swallow baby.”
Jesus Christ. That sounded sexual in all the right ways. I pressed my thighs closer together as I felt my eyes get heavier. Cash chuckled, a low, deep, rumbling sound that snapped me out of my daze and had me immediately sipping from my coffee and internally berating myself for being so freaking obvious about everything around him.
“Come on,” he said, tugging a little at the hem of my tee before moving toward the staircase that led upstairs that had a knot tightening inside. Stairs. That was so going to hurt. But I wasn't going to be a baby about it and beg to stay on the couch instead. Cash was waiting two steps up when I finally got there. His head tilted to the side as he watched me. “How pissed would you be if I tried to help you right now?” he asked, sounding like he already knew the answer. I gave him a glare as I gripped the railing hard enough to make my fingers go white. “Thought so,” he said, nodding and running up the stairs, leaving me to eke my way up alone.
I made the top landing what felt like an hour later, slumping slightly forward and deep breathing through the pain. Reassuring myself that the pain meds would kick in before I knew it, I pushed down the hall past the open door to the bathroom and to the only other door upstairs. I squished the knowledge that that meant I was going to be sleeping in the master bedroom, in Cash's bed, and forced myself to step into the doorway.
Well then.
That was how you did a bedroom.
The walls were a deep brown, all the trim and ceiling painted a soft beige. The mammoth California king bed was on top of a high dark (almost black) wood platform with matching headboard. There were extra pillows for overnight guests (of which, I was sure he had many) and the comforter was a crisp white seersucker material that made me want to bury underneath it and never come out.
“Kick outta those shoes,” Cash said, back turned to me as he looked inside his closet. Dumbly, without any other option, I kicked out of my shoes. Cash turned, moving toward me, an oversize oatmeal-colored thermal bunched up in his hands. Without even explaining, he stopped in front of me and pushed it over my head, reaching for my hands and guiding them into the sleeves. I was too stunned to even think about brushing him away to do it myself. That was, until his hands pulled the material down my torso and his fingers moved to my button and zip.
“What are you doing?” I half gasped, half yelped, trying to brush his hands away.
But they stayed put and his gaze lifted to mine. “Baby, just let me fucking help you, okay?”
Knowing leaning down to push my pants down would be nothing short of excruciating and having someone willing to help me would save me a lot of pain and frustration, well, it didn't leave me room to argue.
Seeing my decision made, he ducked his head again and his hands slipped slightly into my waistband as he pushed the button through. The brush of his fingers against my belly had a slight tremble moving through my body and I prayed he didn't feel it. But then his gaze lifted to mine, questioning, searching, and I knew he did. He looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it, and ducked his head again. He pushed down the zip and his hands moved to my hips, grabbing my jeans and pulling them down carefully, watching as if not sure if there were any injuries anywhere else.
When he had my jeans down to my knees, his fingers brushed over my thighs that were somehow bruise-free. “Thank fuck,” he murmured to himself.
“What?” I asked, watching the top of his head.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head, and pulling my feet out of the legs. “Come on, sweetheart, let's get you in bed,” he said, touching my hip and gently pushing me forward.
By the time I got myself under the blankets and into a position that
I realized my mistake a second later when I felt the pills slip inside as Cash smiled softly. “Swallow baby.”
Jesus Christ. That sounded sexual in all the right ways. I pressed my thighs closer together as I felt my eyes get heavier. Cash chuckled, a low, deep, rumbling sound that snapped me out of my daze and had me immediately sipping from my coffee and internally berating myself for being so freaking obvious about everything around him.
“Come on,” he said, tugging a little at the hem of my tee before moving toward the staircase that led upstairs that had a knot tightening inside. Stairs. That was so going to hurt. But I wasn't going to be a baby about it and beg to stay on the couch instead. Cash was waiting two steps up when I finally got there. His head tilted to the side as he watched me. “How pissed would you be if I tried to help you right now?” he asked, sounding like he already knew the answer. I gave him a glare as I gripped the railing hard enough to make my fingers go white. “Thought so,” he said, nodding and running up the stairs, leaving me to eke my way up alone.
I made the top landing what felt like an hour later, slumping slightly forward and deep breathing through the pain. Reassuring myself that the pain meds would kick in before I knew it, I pushed down the hall past the open door to the bathroom and to the only other door upstairs. I squished the knowledge that that meant I was going to be sleeping in the master bedroom, in Cash's bed, and forced myself to step into the doorway.
Well then.
That was how you did a bedroom.
The walls were a deep brown, all the trim and ceiling painted a soft beige. The mammoth California king bed was on top of a high dark (almost black) wood platform with matching headboard. There were extra pillows for overnight guests (of which, I was sure he had many) and the comforter was a crisp white seersucker material that made me want to bury underneath it and never come out.
“Kick outta those shoes,” Cash said, back turned to me as he looked inside his closet. Dumbly, without any other option, I kicked out of my shoes. Cash turned, moving toward me, an oversize oatmeal-colored thermal bunched up in his hands. Without even explaining, he stopped in front of me and pushed it over my head, reaching for my hands and guiding them into the sleeves. I was too stunned to even think about brushing him away to do it myself. That was, until his hands pulled the material down my torso and his fingers moved to my button and zip.
“What are you doing?” I half gasped, half yelped, trying to brush his hands away.
But they stayed put and his gaze lifted to mine. “Baby, just let me fucking help you, okay?”
Knowing leaning down to push my pants down would be nothing short of excruciating and having someone willing to help me would save me a lot of pain and frustration, well, it didn't leave me room to argue.
Seeing my decision made, he ducked his head again and his hands slipped slightly into my waistband as he pushed the button through. The brush of his fingers against my belly had a slight tremble moving through my body and I prayed he didn't feel it. But then his gaze lifted to mine, questioning, searching, and I knew he did. He looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it, and ducked his head again. He pushed down the zip and his hands moved to my hips, grabbing my jeans and pulling them down carefully, watching as if not sure if there were any injuries anywhere else.
When he had my jeans down to my knees, his fingers brushed over my thighs that were somehow bruise-free. “Thank fuck,” he murmured to himself.
“What?” I asked, watching the top of his head.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head, and pulling my feet out of the legs. “Come on, sweetheart, let's get you in bed,” he said, touching my hip and gently pushing me forward.
By the time I got myself under the blankets and into a position that
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