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Plush backed away. She looked like she wasn’t sure whether this was a big joke or if Lemon was some kind of serial killer.
“Fuck. Me.” Dom scrubbed a hand over his mouth, taking one slow step backward before stopping himself and standing his ground. “That’s fuckin’ creepy.”
“Honey, you ain’t seen creepy yet.” Lemon continued past him and into the party room. I was so mesmerized by her retreating form that all I could do was watch. The woman had an ass that didn’t fuckin’ quit. She was slender but had curves like a back country road and legs that went on for fucking miles. “After I get cleaned up and Rocket and I have our little discussion, I’ll show you creepy.”
“Prez,” Dom said, his gaze on Lemon’s retreating form was as horrified as I’m sure mine was lust-filled. “Please tell me Falcon was shittin’ me when he said you took an old lady. And if he wasn’t shittin’ me, please tell me that ain’t her.”
“You gotta admit” -- I shook my head -- “she’s a president’s old lady.”
“No fuckin’ doubt there. A word of advice?”
“Yeah?”
“My grandma always told me you should never go to bed mad. I have a feeling that’s going to be especially true of that one.”
“No fuckin’ doubt, Dom. No fuckin’ doubt.”
Chapter Seven
Lemon
I’d known there was a likelihood I’d have to deal with club whores. It was why I didn’t immediately find a way to wash all the blood off my face and body. I knew it would be creepy as fuck and wanted to make a positive impression. Mission accomplished.
Now, though, I wanted a shower. Yesterday.
I had no idea whose room I was in, but I found the first unlocked door with a full bathroom near it and ducked inside, stripping as I went. I had no other clothes but I simply to God could not stand the sticky, coppery, mess on me one fucking second longer. I wasn’t a girlie girl. I didn’t care about getting dirty. But, despite my actions earlier, I’d never really been a violent person. I mean, I fucked up people sometimes if they needed fucking up, but this was violence on a whole other level.
I turned on the shower to let the water heat and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Yeah. I looked like I belonged in a horror film. A wave of nausea hit me with the subtlety of a battering ram to my stomach. I stumbled to the toilet and vomited over and over. I closed my eyes to keep from seeing whatever I puked up because I could just imagine it being bright red blood spilling into the toilet. I was literally covered in it, so my mind was working overtime, kicking my imagination into high gear.
When the vomiting stopped, I weakly grabbed at the handle of the toilet. Another hand beat me to it. Before I could even see who was in the bathroom with me, I fell back on my ass, slumping against the wall. Sweat coated my skin, making the dried blood look that much worse. To make matters worse, I was as naked as the day I was born.
“Come on, old lady. Let’s get you in the shower.” Rocket bent and lifted me into his arms. He was still fully dressed but got in the shower with me, holding me as the water sluiced over my body.
I shivered, closing my eyes again and burying my face in Rocket’s chest. Blood trickled from my skin to the shower floor, turning the white surface a reddish brown. The sight made me queasy again.
Rocket held me close with one hand and picked up a bottle of shower gel with the other, squeezing it over me before gently rubbing my back, neck, and shoulders. I knew I should probably be embarrassed that I was naked while he was fully clothed, but it was what it was. I couldn’t stay in bloody clothes. He chose to be here. So if my nakedness bothered him, he’d have to get over it.
With gentle hands, Rocket urged my head back so my hair was under the spray. He washed my hair as thoroughly as he had my upper body, carefully getting all the blood off me before urging me back onto the wooden bench. Then he washed my legs. I was sure he got a good look at my pussy, but he didn’t acknowledge that view, nor did his hands stray into forbidden territory. Closest he got was when he washed under the cheeks of my ass. But to be fair, the cut-off jean shorts I’d worn were short enough to show the underside of my ass, so I probably had blood everywhere he touched.
“Crashing?”
I shivered. “Nope.” I was totally crashing.
Rocket caught my chin with his fingers and tilted my head back so I had to look up at him. “You’ve been yelling at me for not communicating with my club, and you laid down some pretty tall ultimatums earlier. So I’m going to give you one now. Don’t ever lie to me. Not for any reason. You get me?”
I wanted to nod, to surrender to his wishes but I was never overly fond of the word surrender. “I’m fine, Rocket. I just hate blood, all right?”
“OK. I believe that. At least the part about you hating blood. But you’re not fine.”
“I admit, this whole day has been a bit extreme, but I’ll make it through. I just needed the blood off.”
“Good. Then I helped. Now. About being my old lady.”
Before I could suppress my feelings, a stab of doubt and vulnerability swept through me. I wasn’t sure I kept it off my face entirely. If this man knew I had a hopeless crush on him, the jig was up. If he thought I was just being annoying and plowing ahead like I always did, I might be able to worm my way into his life and prove to him I could be an asset before he figured out I cared more for him than he did for me.
Maybe.
* * *
