Chapter Two

Cash

Mine.

I have always thought of Kayla as mine. From the second I almost ran over the tear-stained girl with my bike, I knew she was mine.

Best friends? What a ridiculous term she uses to describe our relationship. The thought that a rough man such as myself could be best friends with a gorgeous, innocent girl like her is hysterical in itself, but . . . I am, if anything, a patient man.

For eleven months, I have let this beautiful girl believe that I am only her friend. That everything I do for her is out of the kindness of my heart. My brothers from the club would laugh at my name being attached to such an absurd description.

Kind? The world is anything but.

I am no exception. Most people assume that just because I run and manage all the Steel Order's businesses, I am some kind of nerd they can underestimate. What they don't realize is that any official member of the Steel Order Club has some sort of dark history attached to them.

I just happen to be a very dangerous man, who is also smart with numbers.

Kayla, my beautiful little girl, assumes that everything I do for her is out of the goodness of my heart. No, it's because she is mine. Every last inch of the perfect girl belongs to me, and I would have claimed her a long time ago if she didn't need time to heal from whatever past she was running from. Kayla has been skittish from the moment I met her, constantly expecting me to change my mind and kick her to the curb. I'll give her however much time it takes to see that she can rely on me, that I'm not going anywhere and neither is she. I'm nothing if not a patient man.

Mine!

I look up from the spreadsheets for the umpteenth time to track her like I have all night, but this time, I come up empty.

My brows draw as I look around, but she's not at any of the tables serving the customers, and she's not behind the bar either.

I close the file I've been studying all evening and rise to my feet. I stalk toward the bar when I catch sight of one of the waitresses leaving a table. She's the same blue-haired girl who was speaking with Kayla earlier. Lana, I think is her name. I grab her arm, stopping her before she can walk past me.

"Where is Kayla?"

She nods toward the bar without saying a word, and I let go of her to approach the bar. At first, I am confused until I catch a glimpse of blond hair peeking from below the counter. My girl seems to be crouched on the floor, rocking back and forth in a soothing motion.

"Freckles."

Her head shoots up, and my breath catches as it does every time my eyes lock with the prettiest honeycomb brown gaze I have ever seen in my life. Everything about Kayla is perfect. From her long blond locks to the freckles sprinkled across her nose like little diamonds, and don't get me started on her body. I've hugged that perfect body close to mine a million times over and had to fight each time to resist the urge to push her against the nearest surface and ravage her.

Heck, just watching her like this sends blood rushing down my body and my cock growing behind my fly. I haven't even touched her yet, but the hundred scenarios I have built up in my head featuring this girl are enough to have me hardening.

How I was able to convince this girl that I am content to only be her friend beats the hell out of me.

"Cash, oh hey," she calls out, quickly recalling me to the present and the fact that the girl of my dreams is currently on the floor.

"What's wrong?"

She blinks up at me. "Hmm? What?"

"Kayla, why are you on the damn floor?"

"I . . . I . . ." She chews at her lip as she cooks up a lie for me, but I know her too well. "I had a muscle cramp."

"Really? Where?"

"My left leg."

I breathe out a sigh and walk around the bar before crouching next to her. "Okay, show me."

"It's fine . . . Hey, wait," she protests, swatting my hand off her when I grab her calf to inspect her supposed cramp. "W-what are you, a doctor?"

"I know you're lying, so tell me the truth. What are you doing down here? Are you hiding from someone?" Something dark filters in, and I quickly stand up, my eyes shooting around the bar for anyone who might be a threat to this girl.

Mine!

Kayla is mine.

Sure, it makes me sound like a creep, claiming her so boldly and threatening other men who might approach her, but it's not exactly something I can control. The thought of someone getting close to this girl sends me roaring with the need to go all neanderthal on that person.

Kayla grabs my arm before my eyes can sweep around the entire place. "Hey, I wasn't hiding from anyone," she whispers, but I catch the shakiness in her voice. I don't like her lying to me, but even more, I don't like someone making her this scared and shaky.

"Tell me the truth, Kayla."

"I thought I saw someone from my past," she whispers, rising on her tippytoes and sneaking a glance over my shoulder. I can read the relief in her eyes when she doesn't see whomever it was that spooked her. "They're gone."

"Who?"

"Just some people I would rather forget," she says, grabbing my wrist and checking the time. "It's almost time for my shift to be over. Are you done with your work?"

I want to argue, demand the identity of the people that rattled her this badly, and take care of her, but it seems she's not ready to talk about it, and when it comes to this girl, I always give into her desires.

Only she has this power over me.

"Get changed. I'll wait for you outside," I tell her then walk away before she can give me a response, but a part of me still wants to pull her against me and demand answers.

She is a goddamn temptation to my steel control.

With my focus shot, I realize I am not going to get anything else done tonight. I carefully pack all the documents and my computer into my bag before grabbing my helmet to head out. I walk to the spot where I parked my bike and lean against it as I wait for Kayla to show up.

I find my thoughts wandering to my life before I met Kayla. Everything about it revolved around my club. Steel Order took me in after my short stint in jail. A few years ago, my twin and I used to work at run-down auto garage. My twin brother was the mechanic, and I handled the finances. Well, more like mishandled them. I was cocky enough to think I cover my tracks well enough, but I was eventually caught and sentenced to three years. After that, no one would trust me with their books, but the motorcycle club took in my twin and me, and I agreed to be their money man.

In the seven years I have been with the club, I have not only managed to organize their finances—both legal and otherwise—but helped the club venture into other lucrative businesses. Hell, I have done so well that I've never had a reason to steal any money from the club. That, and the fact that I would never betray the people who took in my brother and me when the rest of the world viewed us as irredeemable trailer trash.

The Steel Order MC is my chosen family, and Kayla . . . She's already the most important person in my life, and soon, I'll make her mine officially.

I watch her come out of the club through the staff entrance, her lips curving in a wide smile when she spots me. She's changed from her uniform into blue jeans and a sweater. Fuck, even in the simplest of clothes, she looks like the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.

"Sorry, I kept you waiting," she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I had to help a bit before I could leave."

I nod, grabbing the spare helmet I keep for her and securing it on her head. I straddle the bike and wait for her to climb on behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist and sending a deep ache to my cock. I clench my jaw and start the bike before tearing out of the parking lot.

It typically takes me twenty minutes to drop her off at the condo we share before riding back to the Steel Order clubhouse, but tonight, it takes much less. I'm sure I break a couple of traffic laws on the way, but I can blame that on the girl currently wrapped around me.

Every moment I spend around her is further erodes my control, but something about tonight . . .

There is no fucking way I can be with her a second longer girl without wanting to claim her for myself. I've managed to hold back all this time, but my control has been chipping away little by little over time. Now I'm at my limit.

Except, Kayla seems determined to push me past my breaking point.

She grabs my jacket sleeve once she's taken off her helmet. "You're coming up, right? You said we'd have dinner together."

If I do that, food will be the last thing on my mind, but I can't tell her that. For the last few weeks, I've been spending less and less time in the condo we share, choosing instead to crash at the clubhouse. I can't fall asleep at night with nothing more than a thin wall and my determination separating us. But I know the change in my routine hasn't gone unnoticed, and I can see the hurt in her eyes. I hate myself for putting it there.

Goddamnit, just the thought of tearing her jeans down her legs and burying my face between those luscious thighs is tempting. My mouth waters at the thought of finally tasting her feminine lips and lapping up her arousal. I want so badly to swallow her pleasured cries as I thrust my aching cock into her tight heat, taking her over and over until she's sobbing my name.

"Cash?"

I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head. Normally, I can control my need for her, but something I can't define has changed recently, and it's left me a little unsettled. Perhaps it's the fact that I haven't enjoyed the feel of a woman since meeting Kayla, or maybe the mention of someone from her past showing up at the bar has brought out the caveman in me tonight.

The thought of her past life catching up to her makes me want to press my lips to her skin and mark her as mine so that whoever it is knows that she belongs to me. That there is a very dangerous man willing to risk it all for her.

Or maybe these strong desires are from the look she flashed me earlier in the evening when I walked into the bar. There was something different, almost flirtatious and shy about her eyes when they first locked with mine. Fuck, whatever the case, I cannot be in an enclosed space with this girl. Not tonight.

"I still have a lot of work to do, so maybe—"

"You can do it here," she cuts me off, her voice unusually needy. "I . . . There is this spaghetti recipe I saw online, and I've been meaning to try out. You can work here, and I'll make us dinner."

I breathe out a sigh. "Kayla."

"I want to try this dish with you," she says, tugging at my jacket and forcing me to climb completely off my bike. I turn off the ignition and grab the keys before sliding them into my pocket. I don't put up much fight as she drags me through the lobby and straight to the elevator.

I want her.

I want Kayla with the vengeance of a sex-starved beast, but at the same time, I love this girl. Before meeting her, I never understood how a man could be completely and utterly taken by a woman, and yet, "no" seems to be a foreign word when it comes to her. I can't bring myself to fight her on anything.

So, like the lovesick bastard that I am, I follow this gorgeous girl into our home.