“Oh no, that’s okay. It’s not like I’m really here to claim some ridiculous door prize I won at a party.” Chicken, chicken, no winner dinner for you!
Cade straightens on his knees as a single seam of moonlight straddles the two of us like a lonely, slightly pornographic highway. He tucks his finger under my chin once again and gently lifts my gaze to his. There in the moonlight I can see him inspecting me, looking at me with those beautiful eyes that hold so much expectation. I turn my head slightly to the left, and he doesn’t protest the idea. Cade is a perfect gentleman. He’s had to have seen it. My heart breaks at the thought. For the first time in my life, a part of me wants to be perfect for someone. I want to be perfect for Cade.
Through the dimly lit room, I can make out a devilish grin breaking out over his face. “You are most certainly here to claim that door prize, and I promise you, it will be anything but ridiculous. Just wait—you’ll be back for more.”
“Oh? You have many repeat offenders?”
His dimples cinch, forming small, shadowed dots on his cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. They’ve all been banished from the castle. The princess has arrived—the scullery maids have been sent to the tower.”
Princess? I blush from head to toe at the fairy-tale implications of it all. Some guys will say anything to get laid, and Cade is good. I’ll give him that. I’ll have to tack on an extra gift—most likely a blowjob before the night is through.
“Will you chop off their heads in my honor?” My throat scratches as I say those words. I meant for them to be humorous, and they sounded mostly pathetic.
“I don’t see why not.” He falls to his elbows and grazes his heated chest over mine. “I’ve no need for them. And the fact I won’t be bedding them anymore doesn’t really give them much to live for.”
I belt out a laugh. And there it is, the icebreaker that affords me my next breath and the courage I needed to boss this gorgeous man around beneath the sheets.
I lie back on my elbows, my knees rising to his shoulders. “Speaking of head.”
He growls out a laugh as he glides down the mattress, his arms parting me at the knees just enough. Cade lands his hot mouth over the most intimate part of me, and I let out a sharp cry of pleasure just the way he promised.
And just like that, I collect on my debt.
Cade
All week, and into the next, I strut around campus with a goofy grin plastered to my face. Cassidy dictates what nights she’ll stop by. So far, it’s most, but there doesn’t seem to be rhyme or reason to the nights she decides to stay away. She says she likes to keep me on my toes.
A dull chuckle warms my chest as I head into the Black Bear. I’m on my damn toes all right.
Cassidy Clayton has me by the balls, and as much as I have license to roam the mean streets of Hollow Brook looking for that fabled unicorn, I don’t have it in me to glance at another girl. Who needs a unicorn when you’ve landed the Queen of Whitney Briggs—a real live princess in your bed? I’m liking the mythological, hell, the fairy-tale implications far better than I do reality. I’ve already tasted reality’s bitter offerings, and I’m not up for seconds.
It’s early evening on a Friday, just before the dinner rush, before the barflies gather around to hear Blake, my almost brother, perform with his band. It’s a bit brighter inside the establishment, with just enough natural light flooding through the stained glass. But soon evening will fall hard, and the night magic will pour into this place like a balm. I’ve only been in Hollow Brook a few short months, but already it feels like home, comfortable, tried and true, like a good pair of shoes. If New York were Italian-made patent leather dress shoes, North Carolina is a sturdy pair of hiking boots. Who would have figured, me, Wall Street bound since birth, an outdoor type? But it’s true. I’ve fallen in love with trails, the miles of nothing but God’s green earth, the pines, the frosted mountains, the red dirt under my feet on a warm, sunny day—and Cassidy herself. Hollow Brook most definitely has it all.
“What’s up?” Cole, the bartender working behind the counter, nods me over, and I take a seat on my regular stool. I’ve never been one to hang out at bars, but here it feels more like hanging out at a friend’s house rather than a drunk tank on 47th.
“What’s going on?” I slap him five, and he pushes a beer my way. “Bryson or Holt wouldn’t happen to be around, would they?”
“Reporting for duty.” Holt comes around and flashes those pearly whites. He and Bryson are twins. Fraternal, I think, but they look enough alike to mess with my head—clean-cut, buffed-out surfer types with more than enough business know-how to get them to the top of the bar chain in North Carolina. I believe they own a few. “What can I do for you?”
“Dude.” I slap him five. “My junior year is coming to a close, and I’m hoping to set up an internship for the summer.”