"To forget what?" she whispers when I stumble over the words, not sure how to explain to her that even though she haunted me, I didn't want to forget her.
Because even when I didn't have her, even when I was certain I'd never step foot in this city again because I couldn't face being here without her…she still had me. She still had every fucking piece of me.
"To forget this," I rumble and stalk toward her. It takes two steps to cross the threshold. And one more before she's in my arms. I kick the door closed behind me and then haul her up against my chest.
As soon as she's in my arms, she goes wild. Her body wraps around mine, exactly like she was meant to fit me. Her hands go to my hair, her legs around my waist. Our mouths crash together with such need, such force, that our teeth clack together. I pour everything into our kiss, sucking her tongue into my mouth to steal her breath. I want her air in me, until each breath I take is full of nothing but her.
"Fuck," I swear, palming her tight ass and grinding her down on my aching cock when she bites my lip. She isn't gentle about it and I love that. Love knowing she's as desperate for me as I always have been for her.
Once upon a time, when she was in my arms like this, I was sweet and gentle. I took my time and worshipped her willing little body like she deserved. Sooner or later, I'll get around to doing it again. But right now isn't going to be like that. It was never fucking with her and it won't be now, but it's going to be hard and fast and rough.
I turn us, putting her back to the door to hold her up.
Without taking my mouth from hers, I start tearing her clothes off. The fabric of her shirt rips and tears. I'll probably feel bad for ruining her shit later, but right now it's standing between me and that body, and that's a motherfucking tragedy.
I think she agrees. Her breathy moans and the way she grinds her hot little body against mine spurs me on, demanding I move faster, get us skin to skin right goddamn now. I do my best to give her what she demands with every impatient wriggle of her hips.
"Fuck, baby girl," I groan when we have to break apart to breathe. I bury my face in her throat, filling my lungs full of her familiar scent. She still smells so innocent. Her skin is both sweet and salty on my tongue…the best of both worlds.
"Cade, please," she pleads, attacking my neck with her teeth.
A loud growl rips from my chest when she bites me. I buck my hips and then separate from her just enough to rip her leggings down her body. The worn and faded material tears just like her shirt did, ripping along the seams. She hisses like a little kitten when I have to pull back to get them down her legs. Her panties go with them.
"Cade!" she shouts when I thrust two fingers inside her.
She's so tight, so wet…I think I might actually cry because I can't eat her out and fuck her at the same damn time. How's a man supposed to survive without doing both at once when that bare pussy demands both?
"Do you still remember what I feel like inside you, baby girl?" I ask, my voice so thick with need it's almost unrecognizable. I twist my fingers, rubbing over her g-spot and making her shout my name and buck her hips. A grin tips my lips up, satisfaction roaring through me. She was always responsive to me. All I had to do was touch her and she was ready to go off like a cannon. "You still make yourself come thinking about how I used to make you so crazy you'd beg me to slide inside this tight pussy?"
"Yes!" she screams, her inner walls clamping down around my fingers.
I don't want her coming yet. Not until I'm balls deep inside her. When she comes, I want to feel it all over my cock. It probably won't calm my ass down any or make me need her any less, but it'll feel fucking magical, and that's good enough for me.
"Cade, I need to come. Please," she begs me when I slide my fingers from inside her. The pout on her lips would be adorable, but my girl hasn't had me to take care of her in ten damn years and she's hurting for it.
I intend to fix it for her.
I pop my fingers into my mouth and suck her juices from them while ripping at the button on my jeans. My eyes threaten to roll back in my head at having her taste on my tongue once more. It's even better than I remember. She tastes like she smells…like sugar and sin. After I get inside her, I'm going to gorge myself on her pussy. I'll be like the tubby kid in Willie Wonka's chocolate factory. Full to bursting and still not satisfied.
My button finally comes undone. I nearly sob with relief as I rip the zipper down and shimmy my jeans off my hips. My gun falls to the floor with a thunk, reminding me that it's there. I'm so lost in her I forgot all about it.
My cock bumps her clit and I forget all about the gun. I forget about everything but her and how perfect she is with her head thrown back against the door and my name on her lips. They're swollen from my kisses and her cheeks are flushed. Those bright emerald eyes are dilated with lust as she stares at me, silently commanding me to get my shit together and get in her.
My body is hers to command.
"Hold on tight," I warn her, running my cock through her juices. Christ, she's soaked for me. I bet when she comes, she's going to drip down my balls.
Her nails dig into my shoulder blades as I line myself up with her pussy.
"I'm not going to last," I mumble. My balls are already drawn up and aching for release just from sliding through her sticky juices. There's no way I'm going to last once she's wrapped around me, squeezing me tight. "It's been ten years. I'm not going to last. Fuck. I'll make it up to you when I eat your pussy."
Before she can say anything, I thrust into her, not stopping until I'm balls deep.
"Cade!" she screams, her voice so loud it echoes around the room.
Heaven. I've died and gone to heaven. Jesus did me a solid and opened the Pearly Gates. I don't know why—maybe he mixed me up with some other motherfucker—but I'm in heaven. There's no way this kind of paradise exists on earth.
"Fuck, baby girl," I groan, just holding her on my cock because I literally cannot move. If I do, I'm going to die for real, and that'd be a goddamn tragedy too. I can't die yet. She hasn't even come on my cock. "Thought I remembered how good you felt with that pussy wrapped around my cock. Dreamed about it every night for years, but I was wrong. This is so much better. Fuck, January."
"Cade," she moans. "You feel so good. Oh God. Please. I need you."
"You have me, baby girl. You've always had me." I press my forehead to hers, trying to keep it together and keep from coming right here and now. Trying not to cry because this is perfection. I don't deserve it, but it's perfect and she's mine and somehow, I'm going to find a way to keep her. "Missed you so goddamn much."
"I missed–" She breaks off with a loud groan when I lift her off me and then drop her back down. Her nails dig deeper into my back.
I hope they mark me deep enough to scar. I want a reminder of this moment embedded in my skin so when I look in the mirror, I see her. Hell, I already see her when I look in the mirror. I had her etched into my skin years ago. Every year, I etch her deeper. I'm covered in her, memories of her screaming at me in ink and color from tattoo after tattoo. One for every birthday I missed. Another for every anniversary I wasn't by her side.
I won't miss any more. Even if it kills me, even if I die trying, I'll find a way to be worthy of her.
I bounce her up and down on my cock, moaning each time she takes all of me. She's so tiny and I'm big and hard everywhere. You'd think we wouldn't fit together, but she was made to take this dick. It was made for her pussy. Only hers. Always hers.
She cries out my name again, wiggling and moaning. Pleasure is stamped across each delicate feature of her face, blazing so hot it's like staring into the sun. I feel like a god as I fuck her, my hands wrapped around her hips, my lip between my teeth, and my eyes half-mast.
Her body responds to me like it knows who it belongs to…like it's been waiting for me to come back and claim it. I do, pounding into her so hard she'll feel me for days. She'll smile every time she remembers how hard I took her. When she slide
s that little hand into her panties in the dark and touches herself next time, she'll think about this.
I yank the cups of her bra down, exposing those luscious tits to my greedy gaze. They're obscene and perfect…too big for her tiny body, but just right anyway. Pert and bouncy with big pink nipples made for my mouth. I pull one between my teeth and bite down.
Her pussy contracts around my cock, another breathy cry of pleasure leaving her lips.
I lick and bite and suck her tits until her nipples are red and my marks are all over those fleshy mounds. The sight has my cock aching for release.
"I need you to come, baby girl," I tell her, bouncing her harder. Her tits jiggle and shake in my face. I have to bury my face between them for a minute. They demand it. "You gotta come, sweetheart. I need that pussy soaking me when I go off."
"Cade," she whimpers and writhes. Her pussy contracts on me, her inner walls rippling up and down my length.
"Goddammit, January," I growl, throwing my head back in ecstasy. "Fucking come or I'm spanking your ass before I eat that pussy."
"Cade!" she screams and comes all over me. She thrashes and wails, trying to push me off and pull me closer at the same time. Her pussy clamps down on me.
I roar her name as my own climax rips through me, tearing me apart. My heart stops beating for a second. My mind empties, the capacity for thought vanishing as her pussy milks my cock for every drop. I give it to her, pumping into her and roaring her name until I can't breathe.
When my cock finally stops spilling into her, she's splayed across the door, her pussy still fluttering around me. Her hair is a sweaty mess and her cheeks are pink. She's wrecked and even more perfect than before.
I open my mouth to tell her I love her, that I never stopped loving her and never will. But I can't form the words. I'm not sure she's ready to hear them and I'm suddenly terrified if I say it, she'll realize I don't deserve her. She'll kick my sorry ass out of here. I won't survive that this time.
So I swallow the confession back and press the words into her skin instead. Three little kisses on the side of her throat, right where her pulse pounds. One for each word I don't say, whispered directly to her heart.
January falls asleep with a sated smile on her lips. She looks so perfect my chest aches. With a groan, I lift her pliant body away from the door and wrap her up in my arms. She snuggles into me with a content sigh. I stumble down the hall to her bedroom.
With the exception of the pale pink walls, the room isn't the same as I remember. She's replaced her double bed and girly sheets for a queen-sized sleigh bed and soft blue-gray bedding. Her awards and achievements have been stripped from the walls, replaced by framed photos that blare evidence of her sorrow into the dark. They're supposed to be inspirational, reminders to keep going, to never give up, to fight like hell. Each shouts louder than the words they contain of how hard the last ten years have been for her. Every one of them makes my heart bleed.
I should have been here to take care of her, to make sure she wasn't alone. Instead, I was hiding in Seattle, buried so far under the persona I adopted to survive that I don't even know who I am most of the time. When I look in the mirror, I don't see her Cade anymore. I don't see Michael anymore. I killed him little by little, smothering him beneath years of hard living. I'm Kincaid now…the only son of a bitch crazy enough to stroll into the middle of gang territory and declare himself judge, jury, and executioner.
By the time Jason Ames found me, I was already dragging motherfuckers a lot like Kaleo into Seattle PD and handing them and evidence of their crimes over to whatever wide-eyed officer was unlucky enough to be stuck on desk duty at the time. Ames hunted me down to ask why. I shrugged a shoulder and asked why not. He had me in Quantico a month later. Figured they'd have fired my ass a long time ago, but turns out…I'm also the only son of a bitch on their payroll most of these motherfuckers will talk to.
I've been shot, stabbed, and beaten so many times I feel like Rasputin. Death would have been easy compared to the shit I've seen and done for the last decade, but so long as January was alive…I wasn't willing to take the easy way out. I fought like hell to survive each and every time someone crept out of the shadows to try to take me down.
Gang members are terrified of me because they couldn't scare me into giving up and they couldn't seem to kill me either. I came back like a fucking demon and ripped their shit apart every damn time they tried.
For nine years, I've been the thing lurking in the dark that even the monsters are afraid of. I should have been here instead, taking care of my girl, but I didn't deserve that privilege then. I deserve it even less now.
"I'm so fucking sorry, baby girl," I whisper, brushing my lips across her temple. Pulling her comforter and top sheet back, I lay her in the bed. It takes all the self-control I possess to keep myself from stripping the rest of my clothes off and crawling in beside her. But I can't do that yet. Until I deal with Kaleo, someone has to keep an eye on her property.
I took everything else from her. I won't let Kaleo take the rest. If this block is so important to her, I'll make sure she gets to keep it. She said she was willing to die for it, but I will never let that happen. If either of us is going to bleed for her home, it'll be me. I owe her that much.
She mumbles my name in her sleep, a little furrow between her brows.
I smooth it out with my finger and then tuck the blankets around her.
"I'll be back soon," I promise her. And then I carry my ass out of her room before I lose the willpower to leave at all.
Unlike her bedroom, the rest of the house hasn't changed much. I carefully avoid looking at the door across the hall, or the one just down from that. Instead, I keep my eyes on the floor until I'm in the living room.
Her furniture is different. The leather sofa is deep and plush, even though it's worn. The flat screen TV hanging on the wall is new. Unless she's changed more than I know, I doubt it gets much use. She was never big on watching television, preferring to read instead.
That was one of the things I always loved most about her. She read every book she could get her hands on. Watching her get lost in a story fascinated me. When she was little, she'd bring me and Titan her story books and ask us to read to her. She was so cute with those big emerald eyes and that hopeful expression. I never told her no. Even if she asked me to read The Monster at the End of This Book fifteen times in a row, I never refused. She would clap her hands and hide her face and giggle through the entire book, no matter how many times I read it to her.
I loved every second of it.
When she learned to read for herself, I missed being the one to make her so fucking happy. I'd find a reason to be near her, just so I could watch her cute little face. She was so expressive when she read, her emotions blazing right there on those delicate features. I ate it up.
I think I fell in love with books because of her. Because they gave me an excuse to talk to her. I got to share something with her that she loved.
It's been a long time since I allowed myself to pick up a book. Words hurt when the woman I wanted to share them with was two states away.
Family photographs are scattered around the living room. I avoid looking too closely at those. Instead I fasten my jeans, check my gun to make sure I didn't fuck it up when it fell, and then I slip out the front door, locking it behind me. I already stole the hid-a-key she had in the carport. It was in the same damn spot it was when we were growing up. I told myself I only took it so no one else found it, but that was bullshit. I took it because I didn't want her to be able to keep me out.
The wind has picked up, sending clouds rolling quickly through the night sky. Half the streetlights are out on the block, leaving most of it in thick shadows. I pull out my phone and send myself a reminder to ride someone's ass about getting them fixed.
If January's going to stay here, she's going to be safe. With Kaleo trying to run her off, I don't want him to have any place to hide. If he comes near her, I want to see him coming
so I can kill him. Part of me wants to do exactly that right now. But I'm not stupid. He might be, but he's also careful. He's just jonesing for a reason to spill my secrets.
When my sins come to light, it won't be because they were spoken from his lips. Not if I have any say in the matter.
I make my way around January's house, checking to make sure it's secure. She replaced the screen Trey pulled off her window, but it's not going to keep out anyone who really wants inside. Neither are the flimsy locks on the windows. She needs bars over them and bulletproof glass. I'm not naïve enough to believe she'll let me install either. She'll fight me the whole damn way.
I can't be here with her twenty-four seven and do what I gotta do with Kaleo. Leaving her tonight is worrisome enough since I parked my rental elsewhere in case anyone came creeping around. Last thing I need is for his people to ruin the car when it's not even mine, but without it here, they may try for her.
Frowning, I pull out my phone and make a call.
"Hey, boss man."
"Kincaid?" Ames says, sounding like I woke him up.
"You're asleep before ten? What the fuck?"
His annoyed sigh speaks volumes. He's been working his ass off, trying to get T cleared from the DEA's investigation into Elijah Noel's death so he can take Little Mama back to Seattle. DEA administration here is dragging their feet about it, pissed that T basically flipped 'em the bird and told them to suck a dick before handing over his badge and gun. He's been done with this kind of life since he met Little Mama. The only reason he didn't quit before now was because Noel was still in the wind. Now that he's gone, T's done with this job and all the bullshit that comes with it.
"I need a favor."
"What do you need?" Ames asks.
"I need surveillance equipment."
"What kind of surveillance equipment?"
Fight for You: A Second Chance Romance (A Warrior for Her Book 1) Page 11
