Hero

by Samantha Young

  Decision made, I curled up on my side in front of him and relaxed when his arm snaked around my waist to pull me closer.

  For the first fifteen minutes of the movie I found it difficult to concentrate on anything but the fact that I was cuddling on the sofa watching a movie with Caine. My awareness of him was heightened even more than usual—his hard body pressed close to mine, the steady, slight rise and fall of his chest against my back, the clean fresh scent of his skin and the hint of his cologne …

  Eventually, however, I relaxed completely and allowed the film to draw me in. I was enjoying the fraught story and the coziness of the situation, but was beginning to realize where the plot was going and what it would eventually lead to. Somewhat familiar with foreign movies, I knew they could be more sexually explicit than our homegrown fare, and I wondered how I’d deal with watching a sex scene with Caine when the two of us were still so hyperaware of each other.

  Sure enough, a sex scene began and I found my breath catching at the highly sensual acts unfolding before us. Caine strained slightly behind me as the cries of pleasure filled the room while the hero put his mouth between the heroine’s legs.

  Ripples of desire moved through me, shooting electric tingles between my own legs. My nipples hardened as I watched the lovemaking on-screen while surrounded by Caine.

  Slowly I reached for his hand that rested on my hip and I drew it down over my thigh and back up under the T-shirt.

  His breath hitched behind me as I guided his fingers underneath my panties; all the while my eyes were glued to the screen.

  His erection pressed against me. “I thought you were sore,” he whispered, the words heavy with lust.

  “It’s a good kind of sore,” I managed to whisper back.

  In answer Caine rubbed his fingers over my clit.

  Our breathing grew louder, shallower, as the couple on-screen fucked at the same time Caine’s magical touch took me toward orgasm. I cried out, coming around his fingers as the guy on-screen thrust into the heroine.

  Quite abruptly I found myself on my back as Caine braced himself over me and yanked my panties off with rough need. I gasped, thrilled by the harsh lust hardening his features, and a renewed rush of desire swept over me as he shoved down his sweatpants enough to free himself.

  And then he was inside me, pushing into me with a deep need that I matched as I lifted my hips against his thrusts. Lying beneath him, my fingers digging into his gorgeous ass as he moved inside me, I wondered at this madness between us, and if this base demand for each other would ever calm.

  With a cry of satisfaction, Caine shuddered against me as he came.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his back, and felt that his T-shirt was damp from exertion.

  He nuzzled my neck, pressing soft kisses there as his breathing returned to normal. When he pulled back, it was only to look at me; he made no move to remove himself. His gaze moved over my face, drinking me in. “Maybe we could stay like this forever.” His words were rumbly and deeply satisfied.

  They made my inner muscles squeeze his cock and I saw he felt it in the flutter of his dark lashes and in the softening of his mouth.

  “I don’t think we could have much interaction with other people if we stayed like this.” On second thought … “So it’s not actually a bad idea.”

  Caine was amused. “I definitely like the sound of that. Although we would need to eat. I don’t feel comfortable asking Effie to bring us food while we’re like this.”

  I giggled. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. We could ask my friend Rachel. Nothing fazes her.”

  “I’m pretty sure this would faze her.”

  “Oh no, it really wouldn’t. Rachel has no boundaries. This is a woman who once called a ten-year-old an asshole. To his face. In front of his mother.”

  Caine gave a bark of laughter. “A ten-year-old?”

  “To be fair he was acting like an asshole.”

  Shaking with amusement, Caine wrapped his arms around me so that when he moved back onto his side he was taking me with him. “Is Rachel looking for a job? I’m always open to hiring no-bullshitters.”

  “I know.” I pressed my face into his warm chest. “You hired me.”

  His hand slid over my naked bottom and squeezed me gently. “I had other motives for hiring you.”

  Surprised, I arched my neck so I could look into his eyes. “Are you saying you hired me because you were attracted to me?”

  “I didn’t think so at the time,” he admitted, looking boyishly rueful. “But looking back on it, yeah. When you walked onto the photo shoot—before you told me who you were and all that shit went down—I took one look at you and decided I was going to fuck you.”

  I laughed and hit his chest playfully. “How romantic of you. And presumptuous.”

  He shrugged, his own grin teasing. “Presumptuous, huh?”

  I thought about the fact that he was still inside me and I sighed in defeat. “You are so arrogant.”

  “Pot, meet Kettle.”

  Shocked that he thought so, I whispered, “I’m not arrogant.”

  “Baby, you wouldn’t let just anybody near you, and I’m not just talking guys. I’m talking friends, family, too. You place a high value on your friendship and on your body. And you should.”

  “Self-worth is not arrogance.”

  He eyed me contemplatively. “Are you good in bed?”

  After last night he even had to ask? “Uh … yeah.”

  He smiled. “Are you good at your job?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “If you wanted a man, do you think he would fuck you?”

  I thought about it, about my history with men, and how (with the exception of Caine) I was the one who called the shots. “Probably. Not all.”

  “But most.”

  I shrugged.

  “See? Arrogant.”

  “Confident,” I argued, but I could see what he was getting at. “Okay. So you’re confident … with a touch of arrogance.” Bemused, I stared at the ceiling in thought. “I never thought of myself as arrogant before.”

  Caine’s fingers brushed along my jaw, bringing my gaze back to his. “Arrogance can be obnoxious when it’s not earned. But if you’re good at something and you know it, then it’s fake and a waste of time to pretend that you’re not.”

  I found myself smiling at his logic. “You know, some people are good at something and they don’t realize how good they are at it. It’s called being humble and modest.”

  He shook his head, grinning as he pushed me onto my back. “I’m neither of those things. It sounds boring.”

  My answering laughter was caught between his hungry lips.

  CHAPTER 21

  The sight of Henry perched on my desk caused me to hesitate a little as I returned from the copy room. I knew even before noting that curious smile of his that he would want to know what was going on between Caine and me.

  But it wasn’t up to me to discuss my boss’s personal life with his friends (even if I happened to be his personal life), and after spending an absolutely amazing day with Caine all day yesterday, I didn’t want to ruin the newfound intimacy between us.

  I slowed to a stop in front of Henry and gave him a knowing look. “Mr. Lexington.”

  He grinned. “Lexie.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “You know, if you’d been smart about it and chosen this guy”—he pointed to himself—“your name could eventually have been Lexie Lexington.”

  I snorted. “All I’d need were cowboy boots and a broken heart and I’d be a country singer.”

  Henry’s eyebrows drew together. “Huh. You’re right.” He chuckled. “And a very beautiful one at that.”

  “Henry, stop flirting with me.”

  “I’m just waiting to see if Mr. Carraway comes bursting out of the doors to tell me to stay away from you. He’s awfully possessive of his PA.”

  Sighing, I nudged him off my desk. “Why don’t you stop with the jok
ing around and just say what it is you want to say?”

  He eyed me carefully. “Caine is a good friend. I knew something was going on between you two from the start, and although he’s never been the most forthcoming guy, he was weirdly cagey about you. And I wasn’t joking about the whole possessive thing. You have no idea how many times he bit my head off when I mentioned how attractive you are. It came as no surprise to me to find you two going at each other on Saturday night.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I didn’t think it would be a surprise to you. I knew what you were up to the night of the Andersons’ ball. Really, Henry, you should consider leaving banking for matchmaking.”

  He smirked. “So you two are together. No surprise. To anyone. You have to know most of his staff has been speculating about you two since the beginning.”

  Uncomfortable at the thought, I frowned. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

  “No.” He stepped toward me. “Which brings me to my point. Why is it a secret? I know Caine well enough to know he could give a fuck if anyone knew he was sleeping with his PA, so that’s not the reason for the secrecy.”

  And there it was. The question I’d seen burning in his eyes the moment I saw him perched on my desk. “Henry, if Caine wants to tell you his business, he will. Ask. And see. What you don’t do is ask me. I’ll never betray his confidence.”

  Henry studied me a moment, all humor and teasing leaving him. “You care about him,” he murmured.

  I didn’t reply. There was no need. I’d worked out a while ago that Henry Lexington was more perceptive than he let on.

  “Lexie,” he said, his voice low, concerned, “Caine isn’t … No matter how he feels for you … don’t expect …”

  My heart was pounding in my chest. “Don’t expect what?”

  “Just …” He reached up to clasp my shoulder in a comforting gesture. “You’re a good person, and I’m glad you’ve got his back … but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Uneasiness settled over me, and I fought desperately to push it back. Henry’s opinions were based on what he knew of Caine, but he didn’t know how his friend acted around me.

  He didn’t know that this weekend was a breakthrough for us.

  I held on to my confidence, letting it bite back at the uncertainty. “I won’t,” I promised.

  “I’m still not sure it’s a good idea for us to be seen together here.” I glanced warily around us.

  It was a warm Thursday afternoon and Caine and I had been in Beacon Hill for a brunch meeting. To my surprise he’d suggested we stick around during our lunch hour, some of which we passed with a stroll through the public gardens. We walked over the bridge, watching tour guides pedal by on the swan boats.

  “I think as long as we don’t start groping each other, we’ll be fine,” Caine said.

  My eyes flew to his face at the irritation in his words. Sure enough, the telltale sign of his annoyance was in the twitch of muscles in his jaw.

  It had been nearly a week since the party and I’d never felt closer to Caine. However, this was the first sign he’d shown me that hiding our relationship bothered him.

  I kept my silence, not sure how to address the issue since there was really nothing we could do about it. Of course, I knew we couldn’t go on like this forever, but until I had some sure sign from Caine of the permanency of our relationship, I saw no point in taking on the headache of trying to work out how to deal with my father’s family.

  Just thinking about it gave me a headache. I sighed and stepped off the path, the grass tickling the exposed parts of my feet as I wandered down to the lake edge to watch the ducks and geese. A squirrel, completely unconcerned by my presence, shot by my feet and scurried up a nearby weeping willow tree. I tilted my face up to the sun and closed my eyes.

  A few seconds later Caine’s arm brushed mine.

  “What are you thinking?” he said.

  “How peaceful it is in here. How uncomplicated.” I opened my eyes to meet his curious gaze. “People jogging, people sunbathing, people doing yoga, strolling, sleeping, relaxing. The worries get left outside on the street. They pick them back up as soon as they walk out of here.”

  “And what are you worried about?”

  Honestly, everything, I thought. You, me, my grandfather, my job. None of it was weighed down by the solidity of any security. Not one thing was permanent. Not me and Caine, and certainly not my position in his company, because if we ended, then my career ended. And my grandfather … My relationship with him was as uncertain as it was secretive. I could leave Boston and it would be like our days together had never happened.

  I tried to shake off the sudden melancholy, wondering how I could go from being so happy to so scared within the span of five minutes.

  I gave Caine a small smile. “Nothing.”

  His gaze sharpened, as though he didn’t believe me. He moved toward me and just as he did I felt a wet plop hit my head.

  My eyes widened as Caine’s flew to my hair. “No,” I said in denial.

  His lips twitched. “Yes.”

  Horrified, I gave a little hysterical laugh. “Please tell me … a bird did not just shit on my head.”

  Caine gave a bark of laughter.

  “Caine!” I watched him give in to his amusement, and if it hadn’t been for the smelly bird poop in my hair, I would have been delighted to see him laugh. However, this was not amusing! I grimaced, raising a hand to my hair but afraid to touch it to discover where the mess had occurred. “It’s not funny.” I slapped him across the arm and that just made him laugh harder. “You choose now to be immature? I have bird shit in my hair!”

  “Stop it,” he breathed, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. He choked on his mirth, taking a step toward me. “Keep saying that and I won’t be able to stop laughing.”

  “It’s not funny.” I wrinkled my nose. “It’s vile.”

  He smiled, his gaze going to the mess. “You were just so serious and then …”

  “Bird poop,” I finished. He choked again and I held up my hand in warning. “Don’t even. I have to go back to the office. I can’t go with—” I cut myself off, not wanting to set his hilarity off again by using the phrase bird shit.

  Suddenly the humor of it hit me.

  Caine Carraway laughed like a schoolboy over bird poop.

  Who knew?

  As he watched my lips twitch, Caine’s demeanor warmed with tenderness. “We’ll head up to my apartment …” He looked around, his gaze arrested on something. “For now …”

  Confused, I watched him stride back over the path and stop at a bench where two college-age kids were sitting. He said something to them and then pulled out his wallet. I watched as he handed them money and in return they handed him their water bottles.

  Warmth flooded my chest as Caine came back to me. “How much did those cost?” I eyed the bottles.

  “Ten bucks.” He shrugged. “But they’ll wash it out so you don’t have to walk to my apartment with bird shit in your hair.”

  “My hero.”

  He threw me a warning look that did nothing to dispel my secret giddiness. “Just lower your head.”

  I did as he said, smiling all the while as he very carefully poured the water into my hair and gently worked the bird poop out. A few minutes later, he squeezed the excess water out of my hair and eased my head back. My gaze appreciative, I dug in my purse and pulled out the mini hand gel I kept in there.

  “Thanks.” He took it, slathering the stuff over his hands.

  “No, thank you.” I gazed upward to his apartment building, visible on Arlington. “Do we have time for me to shampoo?”

  “We’ll make time. It’s not every day my PA gets crapped on.”

  Our eyes met and that warmth flooded through my whole body now as we grinned at each other.

  Just like that … all my earlier worries were crushed by the return of my hope.

  Usually when I stepped foot onto the redbrick-paved, tree-li
ned sidewalk of Charles Street, I was in my element. It was my favorite street in Boston with its quaint gas lamps, antique stores, restaurants, and boutiques. There was something fresh in the air there, and much like the gardens, it was like wandering into a little oasis from city life.

  Yet the content calm I usually felt walking down Charles Street was gone.

  Two weeks had passed since the weekend I’d spent with Caine, and although he seemed done with throwing up walls between us, he also seemed done with keeping us a secret. Something I hadn’t agreed on.

  I glanced around the street, busy because our gorgeous summer was still going strong and it was a Saturday. This was also Caine’s neighborhood, which meant we were more likely to run into someone we knew here. Someone who would wonder what Caine was doing dressed in jeans and a T-shirt wandering down the street with his PA by his side. I, also, was not dressed for work, having reverted to my shorts, tank top, and flip-flops.

  It was Caine’s idea to spend the day shopping. It was Henry’s mother’s birthday next week and he needed to buy her something. It was not my idea to accompany him, but when Caine wanted something he could be pretty persuasive … with his mouth. And okay, his tongue.

  I squirmed, remembering his method of persuasion in the bed this morning.

  I really needed some willpower.

  I wondered if it was for sale on Charles Street.

  “If someone sees us, they see us.” Caine sighed, obviously annoyed.

  Clearly my anxiety had not gone unnoticed. “We’re playing a dangerous game here,” I argued.

  “Really?” He stopped to peer down into the basement store window where ladies’ clothing was displayed. “I thought we were walking down a fucking street.”

  Oh, he was cursing. He was pissed.

  “Caine—”

  “That would look good on you.” He changed the subject, jerking his chin down toward the teal dress. It had a conservative cut, but the material was extremely clingy. Classy but sexy.

  “However, it would not look good on my credit card statement.”

  In answer, Caine slipped his hand into mine, causing me to look around quickly to see if anyone was watching. He didn’t seem to notice my wariness because he was too busy leading me down the stairs into the boutique.