Making the Cut (Saving Dallas 2)

As my hands roamed his body, my mind began to wander. Who was this man laying beneath me? Was I even sure of his love and devotion to me? I knew that he loved me, but how much did that love cost? Tomorrow would be a big day for me. I would have the answers to all of my questions, but I wasn’t sure if the answers were ones that I could handle. Oh stop, being a pussy Dallas. I could handle it. I had no other choice.

I looked down at the left side of Luke’s face. His lips were slightly parted and he was breathing deep. Sound asleep. I leaned down and supporting my body weight on my arms so that I wouldn’t wake him, I planted a light kiss on his temple and quietly got out of bed. Neo was somewhere with one of the club members, so the house was quiet without him around. I wandered into the living room and sat on the couch, putting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. My life had been nothing but a big fucking whirlwind since I was seventeen years old. Losing both parents, moving to another state, being a constant fuck-up, losing my grandmother, starting my own business, being hated by everyone, getting dumped, finding love, being betrayed by said love, being poisoned, being held at gun point, being sexually assaulted and tied up in a barn, being saved by the man I love only to find out by my captor that he had been paid to protect me… My life was completely and utterly fucked. The worst part about it? I knew that no matter what Luke told me, I could never live without him. I needed him. I needed his club and I deserved happiness. I had never felt like I belonged somewhere as much I did when I was with him. Even with all the crazy shit that was happening; I knew that this was where I wanted to be.

I lay back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I would invest in some of those lights like my assistant and new found friend, Lindsey, had. I remember when I had my first fight with Luke; it was her that I had called and she had taken me to her house, treated me like family, and taught me a valuable lesson-friendship for me was not impossible. Laying in her bed that night, I remember looking up at the ceiling seeing the stars glittering above me and thinking of Luke, until thoughts of him consumed my entire brain and lulled me to sleep—much like this time.

Warmth surrounded me as I was engulfed in arms and lifted in the air. Kisses were placed on my forehead as Luke cradled me into his hard chest. “What’s wrong?” I asked sleepily.

“Shhh. Nothing is wrong, babe. Go back to sleep, I’m just carrying you to bed,” Luke whispered in my ear. I nodded into his chest as a response and allowed him to carry me, effortlessly, to bed. He pushed back the covers and pulled me to him, my back to his front, and nuzzled his face in my hair.

“You okay?” Luke asked, splaying his hand across my stomach and rubbing his thumb back and forth. The gesture was nurturing and comforting. I snuggled deeper into him and nodded my head. Within minutes, I was asleep once again.

I woke to a cold bed. Outside, the sun was just beginning to peak through the windows and I could tell that if this was a work day, I would be late. I looked at the clock and it was a little after seven. Thoughts of last night came to mind and I knew today was the day I would get some answers. I got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. I looked at the reflection of my face in the mirror, which was marginally better than yesterday. The healing process was slow, but I was making progress.

I stepped in the shower, washing away the events of yesterday then went to the closet and pulled on some jeans and a white, fitted t-shirt. Yesterday’s dress got me thrown up against a wall and fucked, so jeans it was. I didn’t need Luke distracting me from my questions with his sex antics.

I found Luke sitting at the bar, coffee in hand, and a large box-the same box I found in his closet-sitting before him.

“Good morning!” I said in an effort to ease the tension that had formed in the room. Luke turned to me and smirked. He was wearing a black ball cap with DFFD stitched on it, turned backwards on his head. His white t-shirt clung to his shoulders and arms, but fit loose at his waist. The tattoos that ran from his shoulders to his wrists looked even darker against the white t-shirt that looked even whiter against his tanned skin. He had a pair of faded, ripped jeans on and once again, was barefoot in my kitchen. The sight of him was mouthwatering. I swallowed hard and proceeded into the kitchen, grabbing a coffee mug and pouring myself a cup of Luke’s famous java.