CHAPTER SEVEN

Baja—

It's midnight when I ride up the backstreets and coast around the corner and down the hill, turning into my garage. Shutting my bike off, I stand and shrug out of my cut, stashing it in my saddlebag. After locking the garage, I trudge up the stairs to the deck, exhausted.

As soon as I come through the door, I'm brought up short by the sight of Elaina standing near the fridge, holding a glass of orange juice.

She looks as surprised to see me as I am her.

My eyes sweep down, taking in the pajama shorts and racerback tank. It's evident she's not wearing a bra, and I can see her nipples tighten into little peaks under my stare. The sight of them has my dick instantly at attention and my mouth watering.

Flicking my gaze to hers, it's apparent she caught me looking. I close the door behind me. "Hey. Didn't think you'd still be up."

"I… um, just came to get something to drink."

"No problem. You're welcome to anything I've got." At my words, her gaze drops to my crotch, and I'm suddenly wondering what's going through that pretty little head of hers. I grin, and her eyes lock with mine, widening a bit.

"I was just headed to the apartment." She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "You were gone a while."

She wants to ask where I've been, but she doesn't.

"Yeah. Sorry. Couldn't be helped. You hungry? I'll make you a sandwich or something. I'm starved." I brush past her and open the fridge, peering inside. "You like omelets?"

"You'd make me an omelet?" She frowns and tilts her head.

"Absolutely." I grab the carton of eggs. "You want to help?"

"Sure." She sets her glass of orange juice on the table. "What can I do?"

"You like ham and cheese?"

"Sounds great."

"Grab a skillet from under that cabinet." I collect the rest of the ingredients and carry them to the island. Then retrieve a stainless-steel bowl, whisk, cutting board, and knife. "You want to mix up the eggs while I chop the ham?"

"Of course." She gets to work, cracking eggs.

I put the skillet on to heat before I get started chopping the ham. Elaina's back is to me as I stand at the burner. My eyes can't stop straying to her ass. The shorts are loose and flair out just at the curve of her cheeks. Goddamn, I want to put my hands on her hips and pull that ass against me. The image of me bending her over and her mouth dropping open as she goes up on her toes when I sink into her sweet pussy fills my head. I swallow and return my attention to the skillet, whacking the spoonful of butter against the edge of the cast iron with a little too much force.

Elaina turns her head, then meets my eyes and smiles

God, pull it together, Baja. She's your brother's girl, no matter how much you want to make her yours.

I get to work, chopping the ham with a little too much zeal and cut my thumb. The sharp sting jolts through my finger, and I drop the knife. "Fuck."

"Are you okay?" Elaina's by my side instantly. Blood is already trickling down my palm. "Quick, run some water on it."

I do as she says, stepping to the sink while she grabs some paper towels.

"Here. Wrap it in this for now. Do you have bandages?"

I lift my chin to the cabinet next to the fridge. "Top shelf."

She stands on tiptoe, stretching to reach the red first aid box. The position has her body on full display with both her ass and breasts thrust out. Jesus Christ, this girl is going to be the death of me.

I turn my attention to my hand, letting the cold water run over it for a few more seconds, knowing I'm probably gonna need a cold shower before the night is through. I turn the faucet off and wrap my wound tight, applying pressure.

Elaina brings the kit over and flips it open on the counter, digging through it until she comes up with a butterfly bandage. "Let's try this one. If the bleeding doesn't stop, you may need to get stitches or something."

"Let's hope not."

"Why don't you sit down, and I'll finish the omelet," she suggests, already herding me to the dining table.

I don't argue, and she takes over. She looks good there in her pajamas, cooking for us, and I can't help imagining what it would be like if she were mine, what it'd be like to come home to this woman, and what it'd be like to wake up to find her at the stove, humming away and making us a meal.

The cut on my thumb is not the only part of my body throbbing. I drag my eyes away from her cute ass and stare at the blood seeping through the bandage. No way in hell am I going to the doctor. I hate ‘em. The antiseptic smell, the needles, the bill.

Especially, the bill.

"Sorry. I didn't intend to make you do all the work," I say.

She turns and gives me that beautiful smile that makes my stomach do a little flip. Every. Single. Time.

"No problem. There aren't too many dishes I make well, but an omelet I can pull off."

I get myself a glass of juice and set out some plates and silverware.

Before I know it, she's carrying over the skillet and sliding one big omelet on my plate.

"I thought we could just cut it in half."

"Good thinking." I grab a knife and do the honors, sliding one half onto her plate.

She returns the skillet to the stove and slips onto her chair, tucking a leg under her.

Forking off a piece, I shove it in my mouth and moan around the bite. "Hmm. That's good."

"So, you've got a motorcycle, huh?"

I still as I slip the fork from my mouth. "Yeah. Didn't I mention that?"

"I don't think so."

"Huh. Thought I did."

"How long have you ridden?"

"I don't know. I guess since right after I got out of the service. Have you ever been on one?" I ask.

"Never had the opportunity. I never knew anyone with a motorcycle before."

"And what's your opinion on them?"

She shrugs. "Don't really have one."

"I'll have to give you a ride, just so you can make an informed decision."

She grins. "I'd like that. You're a good rider? Safe on it, I mean, right?"

"Absolutely. I'd never endanger your life, angel. Not a chance."

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and I demolish my half.

She looks at my plate. "Guess you really were starving."

"Guess I was." My gaze meanders over her as she studies her plate. Her skin looks smooth as silk, and I want to let the back of my fingers trail down her arm. Hell, I want to do more than that. I long to cup my hand around her nape and drag her to me for a taste of her mouth.

She sips her juice. "How's your thumb doing?"

Glancing down, I hide the bloody bandage from her. "It's fine. All good."

"You sure?" she asks, like she doesn't believe me.

"Yeah." I stand, knowing I need to get her out of here before I do something stupid, like make a move on her. "I'm pretty tired. You must be, too. Why don't you hit the hay, and I'll clean up in here?"

She stands, nervously. "Are you sure? I could help."

"No, you go on. And here…" I move to the counter and give her the remaining slice of ham in the package. "Here's a treat for Rosie."

"Oh. Thanks." She takes it and moves to the door. "Well, goodnight, Dylan."

"Goodnight, Elaina. Be sure to lock up." I watch her until she's safely inside the apartment, then close the door and lean against it, wondering how much longer I'll be able to hold out.