Nope. Not going there. Not now. The last thing he needed was to start bawling in the middle of a skeezy motel parking lot. He walked to the bike, flipped open the lid to the bag and pulled out the bandages and tape he’d brought along with them. By the time he got back to the room, she’d removed the old bandage and stood at the sink in the bathroom turning a formerly almost white washcloth a light shade of pink. “Still bleeding?” Maybe he should take her to the hospital.
She jumped. “Just seeping a little, I think. Can you wash the one in the back? It hurts when I twist to try.” A fine sheen of sweat covered her skin.
“Are you okay?” He took the cloth and held it while she turned and lifted the back of her shirt.
Oh, God help him. More smooth skin. More than he needed to see in his current state of distress. And by distress he meant arousal.
“Yeah. It just hurts a little when I move. Maybe I should just get a ride to my folks’ house in…” She stuttered and stammered. “Atlanta.”
Any idiot could have seen that she was lying. “I could rent a car.”
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and the tip of her tongue peeked out to moisten it. “Maybe if I rest, we can try riding again tomorrow.”
“Mia.” Rest wasn’t enough. She needed a doctor.
“Sage, if I go to the hospital, they’ll report the gunshot. And for reasons I would rather not discuss, I don’t need my name to show up on a police report, okay?” Tears slipped down her cheek and her lip quivered. “Please?”
He nodded and gently ran the washcloth over the wound then applied the ointment that Fiona had given him before they left. At his touch, she sucked in a breath and he drew back. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and looked at him in the mirror over the sink. “No.” Her skin flushed, and he took the bandage she’d opened from her hand.
Touching her was like running his fingertips over satin. And his body responded. Dammit. He drew back. “Okay.”
When he didn’t move right away, she looked over her shoulder. “Sage?”
Shit. He still needed to tape the bandage in place. “Right.” And that his hand was shaking didn’t mean a damned thing. Not one. It meant he was nervous, meant he didn’t want to hurt her. It meant… nothing he would admit to or that a quick adjustment of his jeans wouldn’t hide.
He pushed the tape down and ran his finger along the edge to seal it to her skin, careful to touch only the tape.
Goddammit. What was it with this woman? She’d been a thorn in his side since the first minute he’d met her. Since she’d first walked into the clubhouse behind Jez and he’d gotten a look at all that long black hair and those chocolatey brown eyes, the curve of her ass, and that spot in the small of her back where he imagined resting his hand when he imagined kissing her. And he had. Too many times to count and way too many times for this to be a comfortable moment.
She lowered her shirt and turned. Oh, for hell’s sake. How hadn’t he ever noticed the flecks of amber and gold in her eyes? The streaks of lighter brown in her coal-black hair. And noticing now wasn’t helping his situation.
She tilted her chin up and her lips parted. Oh, God. He’d seen desire before, knew what it looked like. And he wanted to kiss her, wanted to hear her moan his name.
Stop. This had to stop. He couldn’t keep thinking about her this way. He was her protector, the man who would save her from harm, no matter what it took.
But those doe eyes… luscious lips… oh, God. He lowered his head, just for one taste. But she wrapped her arms around his neck, caressed the back of his head where he kept the hair military short. And she whimpered in his mouth as she pushed her body against his and angled her head to deepen the kiss. He couldn’t have stopped kissing her if a meteor crashed into the earth and he was the man charged with saving it.
He tried to pull away, or thought he should, but instead he lifted her and set her on the sink, cupping his hands under her ass and moaning at the feel. Jesus. He needed to stop. Stop kissing her. Stop touching her. Stop wanting her.
Damned if he knew how. Not with her lips touching his, her tongue in his mouth. Hell, if he could have, he would have stayed right there for the rest of his life. She was intoxicating. Magical.
Shit. Sage Anderson was in trouble. Deep. Trouble.
Mia kissed him as if her life depended on it. He was everything she’d imagined him to be and so much more. Under her hands, she could feel the corded muscles in his chest and back, and he had an ass like a cantaloupe, firm, round and thoroughly biteable, if a girl was into that kind of thing.
There were three things Giovanni women liked - garlic in… everything, short tight skirts with stiletto heels that could kill a man if necessary, and men with firm, round asses. Although she’d never quite felt like a true Giovanni woman, not since she was about seven, but she knew the family traits and also knew when she had them.
Not only was he a handsome devil, but he kissed like one, too. And that alone made her panties almost dissolve. But she couldn’t let herself go, not with him. She’d broken one rule for him already. Let him kiss her on the mouth. She’d caught the idea of making such a rule from a movie, but it worked. It kept what she’d done as a Demon Wall Kat then Hell Kat separate from the person she was. What she did to survive was one thing, letting herself fall into a trap because of it was another.
She had enough sense to know the difference and the importance of separation of powers. And by God, she’d keep her rules. After this. As soon as she was done kissing him. But he pulled back before she had the chance. Before she was ready, if she was honest. Instead, she put a hand against her chest and tried to quiet its rabid throbbing.
He leaned against the wall behind him and scrubbed his hands over his face. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It bothers you, right?’ She’d known. All along, she’d known being a Kat at the clubhouse would mean no man would want her. She was too used, too damaged. And she had more baggage than Samsonite.
“What?”
“Never mind.” She flung the bathroom door open and stomped to the bed nearest the front window. She threw back the blankets and crawled between the sheets.
He walked out slowly, his brows drawn together and his mouth almost puckered. He stood at the edge of her bed, and she concentrated on his knees which were directly in her line of sight. “Please. Mia, tell me what you’re talking about.”
She sat up and pushed the sheet to her lap. “It’s none of your business.” Her side ached when she fell back against the mattress.
“It is my business. It’s about me. Me kissing you.”
“Why’d you stop?” It wasn’t just a question. It was a challenge. And if he answered, maybe she would, too but not one damned minute before.
“Because.”
She turned away, faced the window, and ignored him.
“Mia… please.” He sighed and she heard his hands scrub over the stubble on his cheeks. “Shit. Fine. I stopped because I can’t want you this much and still be able to keep you safe.”
“Keep me safe?” Bull shit.
“Now you. What did you mean? What do you think bothers me?” His eyes narrowed and he shoved his hands in his pockets.