Chapter Six

Kayla

I can feel everyone's eyes on me, or maybe it's just my imagination. The latter is probably true, but my cheeks warm as I cross the bar. The heat on my cheeks only grows when I feel something warm tickle down my thighs.

Going to fill your little cunt with my seed and send you back in there to get your stuff with my cum trickling down your thighs . . .

Oh, he hadn't been kidding. Cash took my panties and stuffed them into his jacket, leaving me to walk bare beneath my skirt, my sex dripping his seed. Just the thought alone is enough to have my sex clenching with need.

I want him . . . again.

How the hell I went from never kissing a guy in my life to craving my best friend and wanting to ride his cock all the time is wild to me.

"Hey, Kayla, your boyfriend was looking for you," Lana says, patting me on the shoulder, and I jump back, startled.

"Uh, what?"

"Cash, he was here earlier looking for you."

My cheeks flare, and I look away in case the truth is written on my face. "Oh yeah, right. I, uhm . . . I ran into him."

"He seemed so angry when I told him that you left with those men. I hope you are not mad at me for telling him that, but something about them rubbed me the wrong way. Especially the tall one with the thick mustache."

"Oh, that's Henry," I say without thinking, my mind shifting back to my stepbrothers. When they showed up tonight, I didn't have any time to hide before they were crowding me and demanding I leave with them, or they were going to cause a scene.

Deep down, I knew Henry and Mark could cause a scene if they wanted to. The two are spoiled brats in every sense of the word, which is ironic because I was the one who was raised in a wealthy household. Those two came into my life when I was seventeen, and despite being in their mid-twenties, decided they would make a career out of spending my father's wealth.

What makes no sense is why they would come to me now. Their mother kept everything after my father's death. I was the one left homeless. What could they possibly want with me almost a year later? I hadn't gotten the chance to find out before Cash intervened.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Lana says worriedly, the concern in her voice snapping me to the present.

"No, they, uhm . . . Cash got there before they could do anything."

"That's so hot," she muses dreamily. "I bet he went all psycho on them the way he does when someone looks at you when you're working."

I flush at her words. "That's not—"

"Ugh, if I were you and he got all possessive over me, I would be all over that man."

My eyes drop to the floor, shooting back up when I catch Lana's gasp. "What?" I ask defensively.

"You did it, didn't you?" she says giddily, and I take that as my cue to leave, speed walking to the backroom. "Oh my God, did you and Cash finally stop dancing around each other and hook up?"

"Shut up, Lana," I whisper-hiss, panicked at the thought of her voice carrying in the bar.

"How was it? Is his dick as big as his attitude? He totally has BDE."

I wrinkle my nose and glare at her. His dick is indeed big, but I am not going to share that with her. "That's between Cash and me," I say before realizing she just baited me into admitting to hooking up with him. "Shit."

"OMG, I am so proud of you."

I ignore her and consider changing out of my work clothes into the jeans I arrived in this afternoon, but I decide not to. I have undressed around Lana more times than I can count, but with the evidence of my lovemaking to Cash still clinging to me, I find it hard to do so this time.

"I'm leaving," I say, grabbing my bag and heading toward the backdoor that only opens from the inside, or I would have used it earlier to come in and saved myself from Lana's interrogation.

"Oh, c'mon. Seriously, you two have been doing this ‘best friends' song and dance for so long, I thought I'd die of old age before either of you ever made the first move. Now that you have, I want all the details! Cash has never shown any woman the least bit of interest before you."

Her words bring me pause, and my hand drops from the door handle. I mean, I've seen some of the members from the Steel Order who frequent this place leave with women they met at the bar. Heck, even Lana would occasionally go home with one of them before she started her thing with the bartender.

Although I never allowed myself to think too deeply about it, a part of me figured Cash likely hooked up with women from this bar or one of the others owned by the club, especially on the nights he doesn't come return to the condo. The thought makes my stomach clench.

"You're telling me, he's never . . . left with anyone?"

"I'm sure the guy has had sex at some point in his life," she tells me. "But no, he's never so much as flirted with anyone at the bar. One of the waitresses tried to flirt with him a while back, but she quit the next day after he shot her down pretty brutally."

"What? That's a little excessive. No way that is true."

Lana's head tilts to the side as she stares at me. "You really have no idea how he looks at you, do you? He hasn't had eyes for anyone but you since the day you started working here. Hell, he threatens violence against any man who so much as looks at you for longer than absolutely necessary. Half the men who come in here are terrified to sit in your section."

"W-what are you talking about? Cash is my best friend. He doesn't look at me any particular way." I mean, he did tell me he loves me, but his feelings have only recently changed, haven't they? No way has he felt anything more for me than friendship until recently. And sure, he's protective, but he just wants to keep me safe.

Lana is gone before I can question her further. Surely Cash can't be as bad as she's saying. I mean, the man does belong to one of the most notorious motorcycle clubs in the city and has a mean scowl on him, but this is the same man who took me in at my lowest and gave me a safe place to grieve the death of my father and start a new life. He lets me live in his home and even offers me rides every day without asking for anything in return.

Anyone else who touches you is a dead man.

"Don't be crazy, Kayla," I say with a laugh. Those are just words someone says when they are riding high on emotions. There is no way he meant them in the literal sense. The man spends his time crunching numbers for Christ's sake.

Convinced that my best friend is not the psycho Lana just tried to imply he is, I walk out the door and head for the parking lot, all thoughts slipping my mind when I see Cash straddling his bike, waiting for me.

"You always take forever to get your stuff," he complains, grabbing my nape a second before his lips are on mine. I gasp, and he takes that as an opening to deepen the kiss, and just like that, I lose all functioning brain cells the second his tongue grazes mine.

Nothing else matters as he brushes his mouth over mine and sends heat back to my sex. I whine when he breaks the kiss to drop his forehead against mine.

"I could get used to this," he says roughly, and it's a sentiment I echo.

"If I'd know you were open to it, we would have done it ages ago," I tell him, my heart hammering in my chest when he leans down to brush his lips over mine. This time around, it's more like a touch of skin than a kiss.

"You needed time, baby. You were a wreck when I found you," he says, and I can't deny that he's right. I need security more than romance back then. He pushes back to secure my helmet over my head and pats it before turning around so I can climb on the bike, my skirt riding up when I do.

I wrap my arms around his waist, and we set off into the night. We've done this a hundred times over, but tonight feels special. I don't even let the memory of my stepbrothers dampen the mood.

I'm riding the same high when we get to the condo and his lips are back on mine the second the door closes behind us. I am pressed against the door, and soon, I am writhing and moaning against Cash as he thrusts into me from behind. I press my forehead against the cool door as my best friend brings me to new heights before sending me falling back down with such intensity that it has me crying out, probably waking the neighbors.

It seems we can't enough of each other because he pounces on me when we're in the shower and teases me until my knees are weak and my throat hoarse from calling out his name.

"Okay, enough." I glare at Cash as he approaches me after I have changed into something comfortable for the night.

"What?" he asks innocently, reaching out to grab me, but I slip past him.

"It's late; we're not going to have dinner at this rate," I call out to him as I head to the kitchen and he follows behind. He grabs a beer from the fridge before making himself comfortable in the kitchen to watch me cook, something he's done often since we started living together. It's way past a normal dining time, but for us, this is normal. My shift ends late in the night, and Cash always waits for me so we can have dinner together. It's a comforting routine, especially since I hate eating alone.

"Are we going to talk about the two men who grabbed you from the bar?"

"Hmm," I hum, leaving my chicken stock to boil as I assemble the rest of the ingredients for dinner. I avoid his eyes as I gather the short grain rice, the alliums, and other spices I want to use to prepare the dish tonight. "How does mushroom risotto for dinner sound to you?"

"Kayla!"

I look up, our eyes connecting over the rim of the beer bottle. "Remember when you asked me why I prefer cooking to ordering out?"

I can read the impatience in his eyes, but he indulges me, nodding. "Yeah, you said you preferred home-cooked food to wasting money on takeout."

"Yeah, well, that's actually true, but not entirely," I say, grabbing a pot. "I love to cook, always have. My earliest memory of my mother was in the kitchen with her, cooking. After she passed, I thought I kept doing it to remember her, but really, I just love being in the kitchen."

Cash remains silent. In the time we've spent together, I've never brought up my past, choosing to bury it deep inside of me, but my stepbrothers showing up has forced it all out.

"My dream was to go to culinary school right after high school, and my father was supportive of my dream. It was pretty much an unspoken agreement between us that he would pay my tuition."

"What happened?"

"He got married," I answer, slicing up the mushrooms. "At first, I was happy that he was moving on, but I soon realized he'd married the devil herself. She created this wedge between my father and me. He'd already been stolen from me before the world robbed me of him."

"Kayla . . ."

I flash him a smile to show him that it doesn't hurt so much anymore. Sure, it did a year ago when he died from a heart attack, but I've had time to mourn, thanks to Cash. "I'm fine," I tell him. "The men you met tonight, Henry and Mark, are my stepbrothers. They, along with my stepmother, kicked me out of my home the day after the funeral."

I notice his fist clench hard around the beer bottle, and I place a soothing hand on his thigh, assuring him that I am long over the incident. Sure, I couldn't go to culinary school like I'd dreamed all my life, but it's not too late. I'm only twenty-one and can still enroll once I save up enough money for it. Besides, I've been taking classes online and buying cook books to learn what I can.

"Why are they looking for you now?" Cash asks roughly.

"I honestly have no idea," I say, checking on my chicken stock. "They said something about my father's money, but I don't know why they would come to me for that. My stepmother got the mansion and all my father's assets."

Cash is quiet for a long time as he ponders my words. "Most wills are read before the funeral. Your father left you nothing?"

"No, he left everything to my stepmother. That's why she kicked me out. He had considerable savings, and he left it all to her. The house, the cars, and the money all went to her and her kids."

The words are said matter-of-factly, and I realize with a smile that none of that bothers me anymore. Sure, I was raised in luxury, but I wasn't exactly spoiled. No, Cash has spoiled me more than my own parents ever did, letting me get my way in everything.

He never denies me anything I ask, and that only makes me love him even more.

"Something is not right," Cash says after a while.

"Whatever it is, I want to stay out of it," I say honestly. "I'm happy with my life right now. I'm happy being here with you, like this."

Cash does not return my smile, and I roll my eyes. This is why I hid my past from him. Knowing my best friend, he will try to get answers to everything, but sometimes, there are just no answers. I've made peace with that fact.

I grab the empty beer bottle from his hand and replace it with a fresh one. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence as I focus on making us dinner, and Cash doesn't say another word until I am done.

"I don't want you going to work tomorrow."

"I'm fine—"

"No," he says firmly, grabbing my waist and spinning me around so I am facing him. "I need a few days to look into this, and I can't do that if I am worrying about you."

"It's not worth your time, Cash."

"Anything that concerns you is worth all the time I have," he counters, his eyes pleading with me like they rarely do, to listen. "This will eat at me until I have answers. Stay home tomorrow, please."

"Fine," I say in a resigned tone. "I'll stay home and work on a recipe I found. Promise me you'll be home on time tomorrow to try it."

"A hailstorm couldn't keep me away from you, Freckles."

With that, his lips are once again on mine, sealing his promise in a kiss.