Liona
Liona was just coming out of the shower when Cutter arrived back from court. He tossed his coat on the chair and collapsed on the bed, flopping onto the mattress. He just stared up at the ceiling, unflinching as he watched it. It was such a weird dissonance, this world she'd stumbled into. She went from the bed of one man whose life was consumed by court dates and legal papers, to the bed of another man whose life seemed to teeter on the brink because of it. In a sense, both were two sides of the same coin.
“How'd it go?” she asked as she dried her hair.
He just half-grunted, half-growled.
“That good, huh?”
“More or less,” he replied.
“Wanna talk about it?” she asked.
He shook his head, sighing. “You know I can't.”
“I know,” she replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed with one leg curled up beneath her as she continued to dry her hair. “It's club business. And I'm not in the MC.”
Her morning had been consumed by thoughts of the night before. Of who this Rachel girl that had arrived at his door so unexpectedly was. Was she an old flame, a woman she should be worried about? There were just so many things that she didn't understand about his world, things that he either couldn't, or wouldn't, explain.
“What's bugging you?” he asked, the tone in his voice even and unaffected. It was just a question, with no malice behind. “You okay?”
She wasn't sure how she could broach the subject of the other woman. Or if he'd be as recalcitrant about his love life as he was with Vanguard business. “I've just been thinking,” she began after a moment, “about last night.”
“What about it?” he asked. There was a certain change to his tone, though. Like he was thinking back fondly on it, already. “You want round two already?”
She glanced down at him, saw that little smile of his. She grinned and shook her head, playfully slapping at him with the damp towel she'd been using to dry her hair. “No, not that.”
“Well, what then?” he asked.
“Rachel?”
“Rachel?” he asked.
“The girl that came to your door last night?”
“What?” he asked, lifting his head up from the pillow and looking at her, genuinely astonished Liona was bringing her up. “Her? What about her?”
“I'm just ...” Liona licked her lips as she searched for the right words to use. What would fit here? “You called her a club girl, I think.”
He nodded. “Yeah?”
“What is that? Exactly?”
Cutter sighed and rested his head back on the pillow. “Club girls,” he began, “are just like, I dunno, biker groupies. They like hopping on our bikes, riding around with us, having us buy 'em shots, fucking some of the guys. But, they ain't ol' ladies or anything. They ain't our women, even if they wanna be.”
“Old ladies?”
“Ol' ladies, yeah,” he continued. “You know, like, ol' man, ol' lady?”
She stopped drying her hair for a moment, considered what he'd just finished explaining. “So, Cutter?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, what am I?”
Sitting up, he laughed and reached out for her, grabbed hold and pulled her close. “Well, you ain't a club girl, that's for damn sure.”
She submitted to his warm overpowering embrace and let the smell of leather and cedar, his distinct scent, wash over her as he pulled her to his broad chest. “Yeah?” she asked. “How are you so sure?”
“Cause a club girl would only get one round in my bed,” he said with an easy shit-eating grin.
“Ha,” she said, giving him a quick peck, “ha.”
He leaned down and kissed her, this time making it much more than just a peck on the lips. It was one of those kisses she could feel all the way down her back and down into her tingling toes.
They broke their kiss, but held onto each other as their gazes stayed locked. “Hungry?” he asked after a moment.
“Yeah,” she said, her stomach grumbling as soon as it realized they were talking about it. “I could eat something.”
He kissed her again. “I'm going to go cook up some grub, get my mind off things.”
She nodded and smiled up at him. “Yeah,” she said. “Sounds good.”
Cutter let her go and got up to leave. As he left the room, she couldn't help but return to the face of Rachel, the other woman. Say what you wanted, she had more than just a passing resemblance to Liona. And then there was the part about her not being a club girl, about those women only getting one night in his bed. She shook her head, smiling. She wasn't sure about the feelings she had for him, what shape they might be taking on. But she had a sneaking suspicion that not all hope was lost where they were concerned. If, of course, last night was any indication.