Or how about we skip the takeout, get in my bed, and fuck all weekend?
“Ummm . . .” She did a nod–shrug combination. “Or we can go to my place. I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”
He would have thought that words like that—I just want to be with you—from the princess, from the forbidden girl of his dreams, would make him even needier, even greedier, but it did just the opposite: it soothed the starving beast inside him. She wanted him. The princess wanted him, the little boy who wasn’t allowed at the parties, whose father scrubbed her father’s horse stalls, whose cousin had been the golden boy, who had been the hell-raiser and troublemaker.
She still loved him after all this time, and Cain, who’d lived most of his life fucking without loving, suddenly understood that he stood at the precipice of making love for the first time in his life, and his heart quaked with the knowledge that whatever was going to happen between him and Ginger would be a first for him, would be a new beginning.
“Cain? My place?”
He grinned at her. “You still have those frozen pizzas fillin’ up your freezer?”
She lowered her lashes and peeked up at him. “And here I thought you might be hungry for somethin’ else.”
He tightened everywhere, his swollen cock pressing painfully against the zipper of his jeans and his breathing going all shallow and sharp. Was she offering him sex? Now? Tonight? Already? His heart thudded dangerously. “Gin . . .”
“You know . . .” She winced before shaking her head and grinning at him sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I mean . . . I want you to come over. S-stay over. I want us to be toge—um, oh, God, I don’t even know if we’re . . .”
“Together? Is that what you were goin’ to say?”
She full on cringed. “Sort of. Yeah.”
“Fuck, Gin, after makin’ out like that? With the thoughts goin’ through my head right now? I fuckin’ hope we’re together, even if it has to be a goddamned secret for now.”
“But Cain, I’m not ready to . . . I mean, I need some—only a little—time. I’ve only been with . . . um, maybe we could just . . .” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and his eyes darted to it greedily. “. . . fool around tonight?”
“Oh.” His eyes widened with understanding, and he looked up and grinned at her. “Whatever you want, princess.” He chuckled softly because she looked so adorable and he loved her so madly. “How ’bout this? I’ll keep my jeans on.”
Her lips widened into a relieved smile as her shoulders relaxed. “Me too.”
“But that’s all I’m keepin’ on,” he warned her.
She lifted her eyebrows, all sweet and sassy. “Me too.”
Fuuuuuuuck.
He turned the key in the ignition, and fuck if his cock and his foot weren’t suddenly made of lead at the exact same time.
Chapter 31
When she walked into the office at Wolfram’s Motorcycles on Tuesday morning, a massive bouquet of wildflowers was waiting for her on the desk. Cain looked up from his laptop, waiting for her, his eyes hot and liquid.
“Close the door and lock it.”
She blinked, her breath catching, and her panties flooded with wet warmth.
She pushed the door closed and turned the lock. As soon as it clicked shut, she felt the heat of his body behind her, watched his hands slap the wood of the door, landing flat on either side of her head, caging her in. She inhaled sharply when she felt the bulge behind his jeans grind into her ass, but turned around slowly so that her breasts purposely raked across the hard planes of his chest.
“I missed you,” he said, pressing her against the back of the door with his body and slamming his lips into hers.
They’d made out all weekend, but Cain had been as good as his word, keeping his jeans on the whole time, though he’d been so swollen and hard behind the zipper, she was fairly sure she would have seen teeth marks on his cock given the chance. She had also kept her jeans on, though her shirt, like his, had come off, and he’d spent the weekend proving to her that it was possible to orgasm from having your breasts loved, which was something she’d never known before. Something that made her nipples bead with anticipation now.
His tongue, so skilled in making her boneless and pliant, swept into her mouth like he owned it, and the thing is, he did. He owned just about whatever part of her he cared to claim, and she was almost out of the strength it would take to make him wait much longer to take everything.
Hands.
Over the weekend she’d learned that his hands were warm but coarse, chapped and dry, the rough texture wringing more pleasure from her sensitive, silky skin than they would if they were soft like hers.