chapter twenty-seven
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CAIN
I’m not afraid of anything, yet I think I’m afraid of Charlie.
Not afraid of her.
Afraid of having her.
Of losing her.
To what, I don’t know yet because she won’t talk to me. But I can’t ignore the sick feeling in my gut that Charlie is deeply conflicted and that I may lose her because of it.
She’s hiding something. Herself, maybe. Some truth, most definitely. Hell, I’m not even sure I’m seeing the real Charlie half the time. Not many people surprise me anymore and Charlie keeps surprising me. In the past forty-eight hours, she has surprised me at least a dozen different times. One second she’s shyly tensing against my touch, the next she’s stroking my cock when there are five people at the other end of the pool. One second her lip is quivering as a silent, inexplicable battle goes on within her and the next, she’s whipping her bikini bottoms at me with a lascivious grin.
And now, here she is in my bedroom, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. And I sense her mood has shifted once again. It seems to shift with the snap of a finger.
Sometimes I feel myself getting past the superficial exterior to the person underneath, only to question whether it’s just another facade. Sometimes I wonder if I know anything about her at all. Sometimes I wonder if she even knows who she really is.
None of that scares me away. If anything, it’s just pulling me in deeper. No woman has ever thrown me off balance like this before, made me feel like I’m losing control.
She’s hiding something and I’m guessing it’s something painful. I know I told her I don’t care and I don’t, but, fuck it, I want to know what it is. I’d rather just get it all out in the open and move on. She’s clearly still afraid. I mean, if there was ever a chance for her to admit to something, wouldn’t it have been last night, during my own purging? It should have been so easy for her to explain who Ronald Sullivan is to her, why he was ready to smash her face in. But she continues to pretend that it didn’t happen.
I’m thinking of getting John here to tail that fucker until I get answers. I’m thinking of stopping by Sullivan’s house and holding him down by the throat until I get answers, faster.
“What?” The question slips softly from her lips as her eyes slide over my chest. She hasn’t stopped doing that all night.
I reach up to smooth my knuckles over her cheek, freshly made up after being in the pool. I wish she’d just wash it all off. I wish she’d take those damn contacts off, too. My mouth opens, the demand on the tip of my tongue, when she shut her eyes and leans into my touch, her full lips parting slightly. I feel her hot breath against my skin, bringing a throb to my balls, reminding me how long today really has been.
What a single-minded asshole I can be, sometimes.
I really can’t wait any longer.
With my help, her dress hits the ground soundlessly. She remains still, watching me as I unclasp her bra and peel her panties off without ceremony until, in less than thirty seconds, she’s naked for me again.
I’m practically salivating.
Her fingers reach forward for my belt but I grab them and ease her down to sit on my bed. She watches as I remove my own pants directly in front of her, sliding my boxer briefs over yet another raging hard-on that Charlie has given me.
Her eyes flash wide for a second before she schools them. Even in the darkness—lit only by the city lights outside—I can see the blush.
The woman has removed her own clothes onstage in front of hundreds of men and yet she blushes at the sight of me, naked.
I fight the urge to laugh. What an unpredictable woman! It’s frustrating, but . . . I also love it. “Give me a minute?” I ask, not waiting for an answer as I head out the door. I try not to run. She’s still perched on the edge of the bed when I come back with a strip of condoms hanging from my grasp. “Sorry, I don’t keep any in here,” I explain.
A light frown curves across her forehead. “Where do you keep them?”
I sigh as I take in those creamy-skinned, muscular thighs, waiting to be pushed apart. I don’t really want to explain this right now. In the spare room . . . in the kitchen cupboard next to the fridge . . . in the side table of the living room . . . on my main floor balcony. Everywhere that I fuck women.
I don’t fuck women in my bedroom.
Tossing them onto the nightstand beside the bed, I stand naked in front of her, letting her take me all in for a moment. And she does, her lips parted slightly. I can hear her shallow breaths. Lifting her chin with my index finger until she meets my gaze, I explain in an even voice, “I’ve never invited anyone in here.” As if that isn’t clear enough, I add, “You’re the only woman who’s ever come near this bed.”
I hold her gaze as I try to convey the truth to my words, feeling her hard swallow beneath my touch as a myriad of emotions begin whirling within those eyes.
The tension in the air is suddenly palpable as her fingers reach forward to slide along my stomach, up to my chest. She stands, leveling me with a calculating look of her own. One that says she’s weighing the truth of my answer. “Why me?”
“Because you’re all I’ve thought about for weeks.”
“Is it because of . . . I mean,” her eyes dart to my neck, “do I remind you of someone?”
Ginger told her about Penny, obviously. “You’re not a replacement for anyone,” I answer slowly, evenly. Truthfully. Charlie is so much stronger, smarter, more confident than Penny ever was.
A shimmer coats her eyes. I think she’s beginning to understand . . . this. What the fuck is this? I honestly don’t know. When did it truly start? Was it last night? Was it when she threw me that first wink onstage? Was it the second she walked through my door?
I sense a tremble in her body and I instantly pull her into my arms. A nervous giggle tickles my chest where her mouth sits. “It’s all happening so fast. I just . . . when I took the job, I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I’m sorry, it’s me. I warned you.” The soft chuckle slides out of my mouth. “I don’t like wasting time.”
“Do you believe in fate, Cain?”
I hesitate. Something tells me that Charlie does. I’d hate to tell her that I don’t. That I despise the very idea of fate because it means I was destined for this life the second I was born. And that I’d be a fool to think I have control over any of it.
Suddenly, she pulls away. Tilting her head in that playful way of hers, she sits and edges backward until she’s in the middle of the mattress and lying on her elbows, knees bent but together, her back arched naturally. Like an alluring angel amidst a sea of bedsheets.
I can’t help but gaze at her for a moment.
And then her legs fall apart and that coy smile curves her lips.
My hands are locked on her ankles and pulling her to me in an instant.
And I know in my gut that each kiss, each touch, each thrust tonight will sink me further.
Until there is no escape.