Tease: A Kings of Korruption MC Novel (7 page)

I glance up and meet her eyes, my breath catching in my chest.
 
They are so green.
 
It’s like she’s looking right at me, and for a brief moment, I forget that she can’t see.
 
Standing, I scoop her off the couch and start walking toward the hallway.

She squeals and giggles, wiggling as she shouts, “Travis!
 
Put me down!
 
Where are you taking me?”

“You got a first-aid kit in the bathroom?”

She sighs and stops squirming, leaning back into my arms, the wide smile still on her face.
 
“Yes, Father.
 
In the medicine cabinet above the sink.”

Shaking my head, I give her a squeeze and growl.
 
“Don’t be a smartass.”

We enter the bathroom as she shrugs.
 
“It’s who I am.
 
Deal with it.”

Smirking, I place her gently on the counter beside the sink.
 
After locating the first aid kit, I open it up and kneel in front of her, holding her foot up to the light.
 
“Gonna clean this up as best as I can, babe, but you likely need stitches.”

Her lower lip pops out in a childish pout.
 
“No hospital.
 
Just slap a Band-Aid on it, and I’ll be fine.”

I don’t think a fucking Band-Aid is what she needs, but I set to work cleaning it up.
 
Using a pair a tweezers, I carefully remove the tiny pieces of glass embedded in her skin.
 
Every time she cries out, my fucking heart squeezes.
 
I hate that I’m hurting her, but I continue, hands shaking like a goddamned pussy in my attempt to be gentle.
 
When I’m done, her foot is cleaned, disinfected and bandaged.
 
It wasn’t as bad as it had looked at first.

I stand from my crouch, and for the first time, I notice what she’s wearing.
 
A tight green camisole clings to her rounded breasts, her nipples showing slightly through the material.
 
I can’t take my eyes off of them.
 
If I were to lean forward just a few inches, I could pull one of those tight buds between my lips, and fuck
me
, do I want to.
 
After a few seconds pass, I realize that I’m just standing there like an asshole, staring at her tits while my cock presses harder and harder against my zipper.

Reaching down, I readjust my dick and clear my throat.
 
“Done.”
 
My voice is husky with need, and I know she can hear it.
 
Looking back at her, I see that though she may have heard it, in her drunken haze she didn’t catch it.
 
She just sits there smiling, eyes half-closed, looking like she is about to pass the fuck out.

“Babe?
 
You good?”

She smiles a small wine-induced smile.
 
“Hmmm.
 
Sleepy.”

There’s no way in hell she’s making it back to the couch tonight.
 
Shaking my head, I scoop her up once more and carry her out into the hallway.
 
Looking around, I see only one other open door.
 
Deciding that must be the bedroom, I turn and move in that direction.

Her head rests on my shoulder, her hand on my chest, and her strawberry smell fills my nostrils, doing very little to tame my raging hard on.
 
The fact that the smell of fruit turns me on makes me question my own fucking sanity, but I know that it’s the smell of her that is causing the blood to rush straight to my dick.
 
This woman is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I’m just entering the bedroom when she lifts up slightly and buries her nose in my neck.
 
Her hand on my chest presses harder and starts to stroke across the muscles there.
 
“Mmm.
 
You smell good.
 
And your chest feels like iron.
 
Soft, sexy, iron.”

Fuck.
 
I need to get the hell out of here.
 
Hurrying over to the bed, I gently place her on top, her head on the pillow.
 
“Get some sleep.
 
You’re gonna feel like shit in the mornin’.”

Her sleepy smile grows, even with her eyes closed.
 
“Aww, Travis.
 
See.
 
You
are
nice.”

Warmth washes over me.
 
What is it with this woman?
 
I wish she were right.
 
I wish I were nice, but I’m not — I’m a fucking monster.

“Night, Laynie.”
 
My voice is harsh and angry sounding, but my heart is pounding rapidly in my chest.
 
This sweet woman is fucking with my head.

Rolling to her side, she calls out, “Travis?”

I pause in my retreat through the door.
 
“Yeah.”

“Thank you for fixing my foot.”
 
Her words are slow and calculated, and I know she’s struggling to stay awake.
 
“You’re a … just … thanks.”
 

I stand in front of her watching her sweet face and wonder what the fuck to do now.
 
Her eyes fall closed, and her smile slowly fades.
 
She’s asleep.
 
Part of me knows that I need to leave.
 
I need to get away from her and never fucking come back.
 
I don’t know why I came in the first place.
 
I don’t want any type of relationship – with her or with anyone.
 
I could never trust her, and the thought of Laynie betraying me like everyone else has makes my fucking gut twist.

But I do know why I came.
 
She was hurt – I couldn’t
not
come.
 
Just the thought of her hurting and alone was enough to make me hop on my bike and fly to her rescue, like a fucking pussy-whipped bitch.
 
Watching her now, I worry.

What if she gets up in the night and hurts herself again?
 
She’s wasted.
 
I can’t leave her.
 
Shoulders slumped in defeat, I walk from her bedroom to the living room.
 
Dexter stands by the doorway, leash in his mouth, obviously needing to go outside.
 
The dog’s as crazy as his master.

Running my hand down my face, I sigh heavily before taking the leash from the dog.
 
“All right, buddy.
 
Let’s go.”

Clipping the leash onto his collar, I take the fucking dog out.

The overwhelming need to pee slowly pulls me from my sleep.
 
Groggily, I bury my face deeper into the pillow and groan.
 
I feel like shit.
 
My head throbs, my body aches, and my mouth tastes terrible.
 
Feeling wetness on my cheek, I lift my head and touch the pillow.
 
Gross.
 
Drool.

Sliding my hand along my chin to wipe the excess from my skin, I yawn and stretch, trying to wake myself up.
 
My brain is fuzzy as I try to remember what the hell I did last night.
 
Reaching out, I pat the air intending to pat Dex.
 
He likely hates me right now.
 
I don’t remember taking him out to pee last night at all.

My hand searches the blankets beside me but comes up with nothing but air.
 
Dex isn’t there.
 
Weird.
 
“Dex.”
 
My call is barely more than a whisper thanks to my dry throat.
 
Hearing a noise from the kitchen, I bolt upright in bed.

“Dex!”
 
My voice is louder this time, and my heart pounds in my chest as I wait to hear something from the other room – anything.
 
Suddenly, I hear the tinkling of Dex’s dog tags coming closer, followed by the heavy thump of footsteps.
 
Fear causes my blood to run cold.

“Hello?”
 
The door squeaks quietly as it’s pushed open, and suddenly Dex is on the bed, his wet nose pushing into my hand.
 
I reach up and give him a stroke, straining my ears for the sounds of footsteps.
 
Slowly, I lean toward my nightstand, feeling for the large paper weight I keep there.
 
It’s not much of a weapon, but it could cause a serious headache if it were to crash its way into the skull of an unwelcome houseguest.
 
“Who’s there?”

“Just me.”
 

Relief floods me when I realize that it’s Travis, but is quickly replaced with confusion then embarrassment as the events of the night before come flooding back to me.
 
Oh God
.
 
My drunk dialing him had not been my wisest move.
 
And topping it off with slicing my foot open was classic.
 
Way to show him what a great catch you are, dumbass.

Groaning, I bury my face in my hands.
 
“Oh God.
 
I’m such an idiot.”

His footsteps approach the bed.
 
“I made you breakfast.
 
Your foot’s gonna be sore for a few days, so you need to stay off it.”

I sink my head lower into my hands, and my words are muffled.
 
“Thank you.
 
I’m so freaking embarrassed.”

An amused snort fills my ears, coming from closer than he was before.
 
“Babe, it’s cool.”

It dawns on me then that it’s morning, and he’s still here.
 
“You stayed the night?”

He inhales heavily.
 
“Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure you didn’t get up in the night and fall again.”

Anger creeps its way into my thoughts making my cheeks flush with heat.
 
I have to work to control my voice.
 
“Cause I’m blind?”

Annoyance clear in his voice, he replies, “No, because you were flat on your ass drunk with glass sticking out of your fuckin’ foot.”
 
As quickly as it came, the anger washes away with relief at his honest answer.
 
“I slept on the couch, took the dog out, made you breakfast – you need to eat.
 
It’ll get rid of that hangover.”

My cheeks flame brighter.
 
He slept on my couch?
 
I may not be able to see him, but I’ve felt him … kind of.
 
And his voice comes from high above me when we’re standing.
 
I know he’s tall, so I don’t know how he fit on my short, flowery couch.

“Well … thank you for staying.
 
And for the breakfast and dealing with Dex.”
 
An awkward vibe fills the room, and I search my mind frantically for something to say, but he beats me to it.

“Yeah.”
 
The awkward silence remains until he breaks it with his gruff voice.
 
“Look, I gotta go.
 
Get some food into you, and stay off your foot for a while.”
 
His footsteps moving toward the door and my heart pounds.
 
I need to say something – anything.