Mayhem (Deathstalkers MC #5)(49)

"Not a good idea right now, babe." His voice is a low growl that does something electric to my body. "We still need to get back to the clubhouse."

He eases me down slowly, bending his head to kiss me. This is a kiss I could quite easily get lost in, so I feel it when he pulls away. A sound of disappointment comes from me as my shoulders deflate, and he smiles.

"Get on."

He hands me a helmet and, remembering how he did it before, I pull it on and climb on behind him, wrapping my arms tight around his waist, my head resting in between his shoulder blades.

Whether my mind was elsewhere or the journey really wasn't that far, the trip to the club seems to take only a matter of minutes. The engine cuts out and all my earlier confidence goes with it.



       
         
       
        

What does he think is going to happen?

Am I ready for that?

Will I be any good?

Cutter steps in front of me, bending down so his eyes are level with mine. He eyes me for a moment before his thumb and forefinger come up to stroke my chin. "Turn your brain off for a minute. We'll go at your pace. You don't want something, just tell me, okay?"

The air I was holding in my lungs escapes in a whoosh, and I nod.

Cutter takes my hand and we walk into the club. It isn't very crowded, with only a few girls hanging around, playing pool.

They all give me dirty looks as we walk by, but I try to remember what Tracie said about walking with confidence. I hold my head high trying to pull every ounce of confidence I've gained and show them that they can't intimidate me.

Once we are in his room my heart starts to beat so fast it feels like it might burst through my chest.

"Hey." I look over at him. He's locked the door behind him but stayed over on that side of the room, his back against the door. "I meant what I said, if you aren't ready you say the word. I'm not gonna force you into anything you don't want."

My head drops into my hands. "I know that you would never do that, but I can't shut off the voices in my head. I keep thinking I'll be bad at it, that I won't be able to make you happy. Not only that, but is it too soon? Am I ready? Are we-"

His long legs eat up the distance between us. "Stop. First, you don't need to worry about being good. Trust me when I say if you give yourself to me that there is nothing that could be bad about it. Second, stop all the worrying. Let your mind go dark and listen to this." His hand lays over my heart. "What's it say?"

My voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes around the room as if I've shouted from a rooftop. "It's telling me that you won't hurt me. That I want to be close to you. I-" My voice falters. "I want to be yours."

With that confession, his hands are in my hair and his lips are on mine. "After this, I won't let you go, Jaz, you'll be mine."

His hands run down my sides and goose bumps break out across my skin, his fingertips gripping the hem of my shirt, lifting it slowly over my head like he's unveiling a prize. When the cool air hits my heated skin, I fight the instinct to cover my body and shield myself from his eyes. As his hands slip my bra straps down my arms a shiver runs through me and as it falls to the ground between us, his eyes go liquid, his fingers tracing circles over my collarbone, up my neck and back down. The touch is reverent; gentle yet with the promise of so much more. When he hooks the belt loops of my jeans and hesitates, silent questions flood the room. 

"I'm okay."

My breath leaves me in short bursts, as he slides the pants down my legs, taking my panties with them, allowing his fingers to casually brush the skin, like every touch doesn't make my body beat in anticipation. I have never been this eager before. Never wanted the touch of another person so badly that I found myself leaning toward them, begging them with my eyes to carry on. I'm not a virgin, but it feels like this is the first time. This is how it should have been. The want, the need, the desire-everything I grew up reading in magazines. It's all here, in this moment with him.

And when I'm naked in front of him, scars on view, I don't feel shame. I feel beautiful. I feel loved.

His gaze runs up and down my body. "You're perfect." His strong voice rumbles sending chills through me.

He makes quick work of removing his clothes. My eyes widen at the sight of him, every inch sculpted in a way I wouldn't think you'd see in real life. The tattoos on his chest are almost mesmerizing as I stare at them.

Cutter's hands grip my hips, his mouth pressing against mine as he maneuvers me backward.

My legs hit the bed and I sit down.

"Move back."