Jake’s Angel (King’s Of Fury MC #2)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

AVERY

I wake up covered in his scent and his blanket. After telling Jake everything I could about the attack and what had happened last night, we sat quietly for a while, just listening to each other breathe. I must’ve fallen asleep in his lap. I should probably feel embarrassed, but I don’t. When Jake wrapped his arms around me, whispering I was safe and he had me, I was able to relax. His hold kept the nightmares at bay.

I wish he had me. Then I would belong somewhere.

I get up out of bed and make my way into the living room, where I find Jake sprawled out on the couch, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and no shirt. His muscles are on full display. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand just to be safe before moving closer to see what he’s doing.

He barely looks up from the drawing pad he’s heavily concentrating on. I make my way further into the room when he startles me.

“I made some coffee. It’s there in the kitchen if you want some. Sugar is on the counter, and that frilly creamer shit Jayde and Skyler like is in the fridge.” I find myself a mug and pour myself a cup. I’m going to need it after last night.

“What time is it?” I ask coming to sit next to him on the couch. He moves his feet enough to make room but doesn’t take his eyes off what he’s doing.

“It’s a little after nine, I think.” He’s shading something, maybe. I lean over to try to get a glimpse, but he covers it with his hand. I laugh at his childishness.

“What are you working on, some sort of secret artwork?” I tease.

He smiles. God, his smile. He has this cockiness about him that drives me crazy. His rude comments get on my last nerve. His body makes me feel things in places I didn’t even know I could. But his smile, his sexy, confident smile, melts me. I don’t think any woman can resist his smile. What’s worse is he knows it.

“I have a client later tonight. I was working on the artwork for his thigh piece.” He shrugs.

“You’re a tattoo artist.” It’s not a question since Jesper told me as much when I got my belly button ring. Jake looks up and laughs at the scowl on my face. “You’re the club member who owns Kustom Armor.”

“Don’t look so surprised. Not all bikers are drug dealers and gun runners.” My mouth falls open at his comment.

“I never thought …” my voice squeaks, betraying me. He puts his hand up to stop me.

“Yes, you did. It’s alright. Expected even.” I narrow my eyes at him. He chuckles. “Contrary to what your TV shows may tell you, The Kings are a legitimate club. Several of us own respectable businesses. Others work reputable jobs. We all make a pretty good living,” he says as he continues to trace and shade his masterpiece. I’m craning my neck to see, but he’s not budging.

“So, do you do all the artwork, or does the younger guy at the front desk tattoo also?” He laughs at first, then narrows his eyes at me.

“How do you know Jesper?” I shrug my shoulders, quickly pulling my cup up to my mouth for another drink.

“Bullshit. I didn’t see any ink on your body. You’re definitely not his usual type.” He drops his pencil, leans back with his damn arms crossed, and waits. It’s like he only knows one pose and one tactic. Intimidation.

If it wasn’t such a sexy look on him, it might serve to get him what he wants, but I like the view too much to cave just yet.

I don’t answer him for a few minutes and wait him out. When I see my plan isn’t going to work, I change tactics. “Hmm, I couldn’t have been in there, or I would’ve seen you. Right?” I say it like I’ve just solved some big mystery that no one cares about and take another sip of coffee. He narrows his eyes even more.

“I own Kustom Armor Tattoo. Which means I make my own hours, and since the club had some extra shit on our plate this last week, I didn’t work much. Now. What the hell were you doing in my tattoo shop?” He growls.

“You really should do something about that.” He raises an eyebrow in question at me.

“Your growl. It’s a little wolfish. It might give off the wrong impression to a person. Just a thought.” I drop my gaze to my coffee cup, which is nearly empty, but I still hold on to it and sip slowly. He doesn’t acknowledge my advice about his growl with anything more than a smirk.

Without warning, he’s on me. Jake pulls my cup out of my hand, setting it on the table, then grabs my ankles, sliding me down onto the couch. Straddling my hips, he pins my hands above my head. He holds my wrists in one hand while tickling my sides with his other.

I scream and squeal, bucking my hips, begging him to stop. My head is thrashing from side-to-side and I can’t breathe because I’m laughing so hard. He’s relentless in his attack.

“Fine.” His hand pauses momentarily on my ribs. “I went to see about a tattoo the day I met you in Magpie’s.” His devilish smirk is back, and mischief is alight in his eyes.

“You mean the day you used me?”

I bite my lip, holding my smile back. I can feel my cheeks beginning to flush.

“Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you attacked me to keep from being seen by those girls.

Then just when things started getting good, you bailed on me.”

My jaw drops. Trying to regain some composure, I try to explain.

“I-I-I didn’t want to stop kissing you, but you understand now why I had to go.” I try for the easy out, but he’s only focused on the part about not wanting to stop. I can read it all over his face. He’s proud of himself. He left an impression.

“Didn’t want to stop, huh?” He rubs his nose along my cheek. I turn my head, exposing my neck to him. He continues the slow, soothing stroke, accepting my invitation.

Sweet baby Jesus. I’m pinned under the devil and I’m liking it far more than I should.

Without thinking, I blurt out, “Of course I didn’t. It’s not every day a girl gets her first kiss.”

He pulls back, sitting above me. The scowl on his face was not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s enough to make me wish I could take the words back.

“ That was your first kiss?” He pulls back further but doesn’t release me. Instead, he laughs. He freaking laughs!

“This is funny to you.” It’s not a question. Feeling more unsure of myself than ever and so unbelievably embarrassed, I push with my knees trying to move around, to loosen up some part of my body from his grip but am stopped by two very large hands pulling me back to my original spot pinned between him and the couch.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you.” He takes a breath, calming himself. “Ok, I am laughing at you, but not because of the reasons you’re thinking.” I roll my eyes and try to move away again, but he’s decided it’s not happening.

“Avery, look at me.” I glare at him, hoping my anger will overshadow the hurt and the tears I’m trying desperately to hold back.

Changing the subject, I spill the truth about the tattoo shop. “I went into the tattoo shop because I wanted to see if the scars could be covered up. Jesper said he thought they could, but he needed me to show them to him so he could see if they’ve healed enough. I’ve never shown my scars to anyone except Sadie. I was too ashamed, too afraid to let him see me.” I shrug my shoulders in an attempt to act as if it’s nothing really, but the glare he has fixed on me lets me know he doesn’t find this to be nothing at all. I don’t know what he’s thinking. But he is definitely not laughing at me anymore.

“I settled for a belly piercing instead.”

I thought talking tattoos with a tattoo artist was normal, but I guess we both know this conversation is anything but normal. He’s still straddling my hips, holding my wrists. His bare chest pressing into me. His thick legs pinning my body in place where his T-shirt has ridden up my thighs from thrashing around under his assault.

My brain is telling me to get out of this situation, quick, fast and in a hurry. While my traitorous body is melting under the strength and power of his hold. His penetrating stare is holding me captive.

We’re both frustrated with each other, but there’s something else between us I can’t quite explain. The longer his eyes bore into mine, the stronger this pull becomes.

“Does anyone else know you went to see Jesper at the shop?” Just like that, the spell is broken.

I shrug, not making eye contact anymore, turning my head toward the back of the couch. His hand guides my face back to his, but I keep my eyes downcast on his abs.

Ugh. This is not fair.

“How did you keep these marks hidden if you were doing pageants and shit?” I take a chance and glance back up at him. He wins the staring contest between us when I close my eyes.

Shit!

He must realize that I’m not about to tell him anymore about them because he makes a quick change from the subject, but still he doesn’t let me up.

“What were you looking to cover them up with?” he asks, watching me carefully as I lay completely at his mercy. I’m trying desperately not to picture this conversation going in a completely different direction.

Jake’s shirtless, laid out on top of me, chest to chest. My wrists are still pinned in his right hand while his left draws small circles on my bare hip. He’s so close to my face I can smell his coffee, which I’m now certain had some of the frilly creamer shit he joked about being Jayde’s.

Something flashes in his eyes. He lets go of my hands, sitting himself up. I’m immediately struck by the lack of warmth from his body.

He backs himself up to the other side of the couch as I sit up, sliding back away from his reach, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt I’m wearing.

When he first gave it to me to wear last night, it was a comfort to be wrapped in the softness and smell of him. I was so nervous when he removed it to see the scars permanently burned into my skin. I’ve never let a man undress me before. Not on purpose. Pageant workers don’t count. Most of them were either sweet gay guys or creepy men as old as Gramps.

Still not making eye contact with him, I answer his question. “I was thinking daisies or maybe sun flowers. Something that has a concentrated center so the burns could be easily hidden in the center and the scars in the leaves. Both flowers have vibrant colors and are beautiful when they’re in full bloom. I thought something pretty like that would hide the ugliness of the past.” He watches me for a minute, then picks up his drawing pad off the floor and places it on the table.

“Come here,” he demands. I jump at the gruff sound of his voice, but I do as he asks. I stand in front of him with nothing but his T-shirt and my lacy panties between us.

I knew I should’ve grabbed the sweatpants too.

I’m nervous standing before him like this between the table and the couch. If he gets close enough, there will be no way to hide my arousal.

I know he saw me last night, but I was a mess and I wasn’t really thinking about him looking at me. He wanted to see my scars, not my body. The way he’s looking at me now, with darkness and desire in his eyes, has my stomach doing flips. It’s an almost predatory look, and it has my insides melting and my mind freaking out.

“Relax, baby. I’m just going to look at the scars and see if your idea to cover them will work.”

Of course, he doesn’t want to look at me like that! He’s a tattoo artist and I’m just his job .

Reality comes crashing down yet again and slaps me out of my twisted fantasies. Tattooing is his job, just like babysitting me. I let out an aggravated breath, and he grins.

Asshole.

He runs his hands ever so lightly up my thighs, pushing the material of his shirt higher. “Hold this here, would you?”

I grab the shirt and bunch it between my hands. His hands graze the top of my panties, and my body responds without my consent. I’m silently praying to whatever deity will listen to help me.

Please don’t let him notice how aroused I’m getting. I don’t need him knowing what he does to me. He will never let me live it down.

He gently pulls the top of my panties down just below my hips, but not low enough to fully expose me. I focus my eyes on a spot on the kitchen cabinet behind him.

Looks like he should really fix the door on that one. It looks crooked.

He groans as he continues to run his fingers back and forth, then around and down the scars. He’s concentrating on the burns. I can feel his breath on my skin and it’s sending shivers across my stomach.

Get ahold of yourself, Avery!

I hear him chuckle, but still, he says nothing. All too quickly, he puts my panties back in place and tugs his T-shirt back down, covering my body.

“I’ll draw a few things up and see what you think. We can’t do anything for a while, but at least you’ll have some ideas to go off,” he says, grabbing his sketch pad and leaning back on the couch where he gets back to sketching his original drawing.

“You don’t have to. I hear there’s a tattoo shop in Big Rock. It’s not too far from here. I can just go there when I’m ready.”

“Like hell you will,” he growls. “When the time comes to do the work, I’ll take care of you.” I go to argue with him, but he shakes his head, letting me know it’s the end of this discussion. I don’t know what to think or how I feel about any of this. Rather than sit here feeling like an idiot, I grab my cup, go to the kitchen and pour myself more coffee. When I start to leave the room, he calls after me.

“What?” I snap. Not meaning to sound so rude, but being around him with all this hot and cold, push and pull, has me so confused and feeling … feelings! Ugh.

He was so tender and sweet with me last night. The way he kept calling me angel and baby. I thought maybe he meant something by it. Then, when he pinned me down, I almost thought he was going to kiss me again. Hell, I wanted him to do so much more than kiss me. But now he’s acting different. I don’t know what to do with it all.

“Get some clothes out of Jayde’s room and get cleaned up. I’m taking you to Liz’s house while we hold church. I don’t think you want to show up wearing nothing but my T-shirt.” He smirks. I glare back at him and flip him the bird. I stomp my feet a little louder down the hall and hear his laughter as I slam the bedroom door shut.

For someone so unbelievably attractive, protective, and sweet, he can be such an asshat!