Her eyes go watery. She is stubborn enough not to let a single tear down. I open my jacket and clean my blood of her hand on my shirt. She is about to protest, but I grab her by the shoulder, hug her, and kiss the top of her head.
“It is just a graze. It stings more than it hurts. I’m okay. There is no need to freak out,” I say before I knock twice on one of the close rolling doors.
“We are closed,” Wyatt’s voice come from inside.
“Is Cooper Callahan,” I say.
The rolling doors open. A white tall man with brown hair and hazel eyes ushers us in as he pulls my motorcycle inside.
“Where is your first aid kit?” I ask.
After Wyatt sets my bike on his station, he gets the first aid kit from one of the many closets at the back. Rosalie helps me get my jacket off and pulls my shirt off.
My jacket is not fully bulletproof, but it has plates in a few key places. All of those places were bruising. Those motherfuckers don’t have poor aim. They were just aiming for specific areas in my torso that would kill me in one shot or have me bleeding out in minutes.
“Oh my god. Cooper. How did you get these bruises?” Rosalie asks as she caresses my back, counting under her breath the places shades of yellow, brown, blue and purple are blooming.
“Dude, that’s a nasty bullet graze,” Wyatt says.
I grab Rosalie’s neck and pull her so close to my face our noses touch. “Don’t make my girl worry. Can you clean it and patch it for me?” I ask Wyatt, as I massage her neck and keep her looking at me.
Her eyes watch for any sign of pain or discomfort. I know Wyatt knows she is paying attention because he is not being gentle. He does the job quickly and throws a clean shirt onto my lap.
“Do you want me to patch up your motorcycle, too?”
“If I have your permission to use your station, I can take care of my motorcycle.”
“The entire shop is yours. I’m the one opening tomorrow, so Peyton is not gonna see you unless you want her to.”
“No, thank you. I don’t need her to kick my ass for showing up here.”
“Okay. Have a good night. Text me if you can’t find something.”
I nod and watch him leave through their office. I put the clean shirt on and hiss at the cut.
“You should have let him repair your bike,” Rosalie says.
I shake my head. “There’s two things in my life that I’m the only one in the world who can take care of them.”
“What are those things?” She asks.
“My woman and my bike.” I grab her chin and lean close. I feel her breathing quicken. Her eyes go up and down; from my eyes to my lips. I want to kiss her so badly, but I want her to want me the same way.
I want to see how much she can hold on. I want to see how much I can tease. How much foreplay I can do before she melts under my hands and lips?
I let go of her chin and point at a chair. “You can wait there.”
“Don’t you need help?”
“I know my way around my motorcycle better than anyone else. I don’t need help.”
“But you are hurt.”
“I didn’t lose a limb.”
“Why don’t you let me help you? I learn fast. I remember anything I see once. You show me what to do and I will do it exactly as you showed me on the first try. Let me help you, Cooper. Please.”
I close my eyes and nod. In such a short time, this woman can make me agree to anything she wants as long as she pleads for it. There is something in the way she says please that is so satisfying. I wonder if she would plead in bed. Would she moanplease moreorplease harder? I blink the desire out of my head and focus on the task.
