by Laura Kaye
And she thought she’d been fascinated before…
The side of his mouth drew up, and the lopsided smile he gave her after all that seriousness filled her chest with a warm pressure. “Consider me seduced.” Kneeling between her thighs, he lined his cock up with her opening and slowly, so slowly, sank deep. “Jesus, Emma, to be inside you,” he rasped, holding himself still.
The raw pleasure on his face ratcheted up her arousal as she threw her head back and breathed through the amazing fullness of his invasion. It’d been five months since she’d last had sex with her summer fling, who’d moved to DC. “It’s so good, Caine.”
He withdrew almost to the tip before pushing back in. “Fuck, that looks amazing. My cock sliding into you.” He repeated the strokes, his gaze glued to the spot where their bodies met, his hands going to her thighs to push her open.
On a moan, she peered up at him, her gaze dragging over new details she noticed of his body. His stomach was hard and flat, the contour of his ribs was visible on his sides, and his broad shoulders and thicker biceps were more cut than he was elsewhere. His collar and hip bones were also visible. He possessed a hunger-pang frame full of hard planes and rough edges, and with every thrust, his muscles flexed in the most amazing way. Emma couldn’t wait to feel him lie atop her, but she was in no hurry to lose this view. “I feel the same way about seeing you above me while you’re holding me open and buried deep inside me.”
A visible shudder went through him, and knowing he was as worked up as she was spiraled sensation down her spine and low into her belly. His arms almost trembled as he took her in deliciously slow, grinding strokes that bottomed out inside her each and every time. He trembled as if he was holding himself back.
“I want whatever you want, Caine,” she said.
His gaze collided with hers, and those eyes were white-blue fire. “Everything about me is hard,” he gritted out.
“Show me,” she said.
“Fuck.” He came down on her then, one of his arms hooked under her knee, the other wrapping around her neck in a tight hold he used as leverage for an absolutely breath-stealing pounding. His hips snapped against her skin hard and fast enough that she expected bruises from his hip bones. His pubic bone crashed into her clit again and again, driving her wild. And those eyes blazed into her very soul.
Emma came. The orgasm detonated with a suddenness that made her whole body go rigid and shake. She clung to him as his cock moved in her, drawing out her pleasure until her vision went fuzzy around the edges.
“Christ, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice full of gravel. “Gonna make me come too fast.”
“Want you to come,” Emma managed, her heart a freight train in her chest.
Caine’s mouth fell on hers in an aggressive, demanding kiss. And then he changed positions, pressing her wrists to the floor, holding himself above her, and penetrating her with hammering, punctuated thrusts that moved them across the blanket and, impossibly, stirred arousal within her core again.
He knocked Emma’s breath out of her on every stroke until she was crying out and straining and writhing in a rhythm that matched his movements. No one had ever taken her this hard, and the intensity of it was a mind-blowing revelation. Being twenty-seven and single meant that Emma had a collection of vibrators, porn clips, and erotic novels that got regular use. She’d always been drawn to depictions of rough sex, but never before found someone who could do more than play at it. Now, she knew for sure—she got off on it as much in real life as in fantasy.
Got off on it hard.
“Caine, God, I’m…gonna…”
“Fuck, yeah.” His grip tightened on her wrists and his hips smacked her clit faster. “Come on me again.”
The words finished winding her up, up, up and then she was gasping out his name while her hips shuddered and her thighs shook.
Caine’s whole weight fell on her and his hands found tight purchase against her skin. He roared his release against her neck, his hips jerking as his cock pulsed inside her. It seemed to go on and on until the sounds that ripped from his throat were almost tortured. Emma wrapped her arms around his shoulders and head and held him through it.
In truth, the power of what they’d shared left her head spinning, and she needed the holding, too.
* * * *
“Aaaah, what the hell?” Caine yelled, flinching.
Chewy sniffed them and whined pitifully, clearly feeling neglected. Emma burst out laughing. “He wanted to play, too.”
“He licked my ass.”
Emma laughed harder. “He…he has…good taste,” she gasped out around the laughter.
Caine’s whole face cranked into a frown. When he spoke, it was to the dog. “That’s not cool, man.”
Now tears gathered in her eyes and she kicked her feet against the floor as her amusement stole her breath, especially when Chewy sat and tilted his head at Caine.
She pressed a hand over her mouth as the hilarity of the moment crashed into how overwhelming the sex had been and snowballed into an overload of emotion. “Sorrysorry,” she said, trying but failing to get herself under control.
Caine pulled her hand away and pressed it to the floor again. His eyes were more open, more clear, more at ease than she’d ever seen them before. “I rarely make anyone laugh or smile, so please don’t hide it from me. It’s fucking beautiful.”
Oh, my heart.
Here he was, this man with so many rough edges—and certainly some about which she didn’t yet know, judging by what he’d said earlier—but he came at her with this aching sweetness. Again and again.
“So sweet to me,” she said.
He released her wrist, then lifted it, looking. “What we did just now, that wasn’t sweet. Did I… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Hey,” she said, grasping his face and making him look at her. “No, it was the opposite of hurt, believe me. I asked you to show me what you like, and you did. And I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Twice. All of that was freaking sweet.” That reserved seriousness was returning to his expression and his eyes again, as if someone was lowering the blinds over his soul. And it made her need to know. “Was it okay for you?”
“Christ, Emma, it’s still blowing my fucking mind.” Warmth flooded through her, and then he rolled off of her, his hand catching and fisting the condom. “Mind if I use the bathroom?” he asked.
“My house is absolutely your house, Caine.” She smiled. “Top of the steps.”
He gave her his back as he stepped into his jeans. In the morning light, the skin that’d been burned stood out more starkly than it had in the dimness. She couldn’t imagine how much a burn of that size must’ve hurt, and wondered if he’d be willing to talk about what’d happened. He made for the stairs without another word, and Emma stretched against the blanket like a cat in the sun. And then an idea struck her.
She threw on her sweatshirt and panties, rushed to the dining room closet, and rooted around for something that might be right, or at least funny, or even hilariously terrible. She used this closet to store gift wrap, craft supplies, and things she picked up that might make good gifts or classroom prizes or that she just liked and didn’t know what to do with until the right moment or person came along. But her closet was failing her now, and it made her stomach squeeze. Because there was no way she wasn’t figuring out something for Caine to open as a gift on Christmas morning.
Rushing water that told her he’d flushed the toilet sounded from the ceiling, and she skidded into the kitchen, her thoughts spinning as she opened the pantry…and landed on a case of the orange soda Caine seemed to like.
“That’s stupid,” she said, right before she grabbed the cardboard handle of the six-pack of bottles and returned to the gift closet. She found a decorative bag big enough for the soda, and stuffed it with red and green paper. She’d just scrawled his name on a tag when footsteps sounded from the top of the steps. Heart pounding, she dropped the gif
t bag at the tree just as Caine stepped in from the foyer.
He gave her such a suspicious look that she could only chuckle. “Morning,” she said, brazening it out.
He nodded. “Everything okay?”
She moved to him, slowly, uncertainly, and stopped just short of touching him. “Yes. You?”
A single nod. His expression remained full of suspicion. “Yeah.”
“Um, we’re not gonna be weird now, are we?” she asked. Because she figured, if so, it was better to just get that whole situation out of the way, seeing as it was Christmas freaking Day and all.
He chuffed out a little laugh. With one hand, he grasped her by the neck and pulled her in against his bare chest. “Weird is kinda SOP for me, Emma, but you just keep calling me on it when it gets to be too much.”
Her arms went around him and she nuzzled his chest and breathed him in. He smelled faintly of soap, and more strongly of sex and her and the two of them together. She dragged her nose along his skin on a deep inhale, wanting to drink him in. When she neared his nipple, she flicked his piercing with her tongue.
He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” she said, peering up at him.
His mouth came down on hers. The kiss was deep and lingering. When he pulled back he shook his head. “Never apologize for that.”
She smiled. “I have to take Chewy out and then I’ll make us some breakfast.”
“I can take him out,” he said. “I want to do a quick walk around anyway.”
Her gut dropped at the reminder of the reality that had thrown them together in the first place. But she also wanted to enjoy this day with him, and for him to enjoy it, too. “Okay. Any requests for Christmas morning breakfast? Do you fall more in the bacon-sausage-eggs protein camp or the pancakes-waffles-toast carbs camp?”
“If I eat it’s usually just an apple, so anything you make will be special.” He gave her another lingering kiss. And then he swiped his shirt off the floor and crossed to where the rest of his things were folded. “I need you to know something and I don’t want you to be alarmed,” he said, tugging clothing over his head. First, a form-fitting black Under Armour shirt that looked really freaking sexy. Then the white tee and black hoodie.
“Um, okay?”
Caine picked up a pair of black Under Armour pants. Beneath lay a handgun in a small holster. “Just to be on the safe side,” he said. “And in case you’re wondering, I have a permit for it.” He held it up to show her, and then he slid it into his jeans at the small of his back. It attached with a clip.
Her pulse kicked up. Because a gun brought home just how potentially dangerous this situation was. A man had tried to grab her. Knew where she lived and worked. And had violated both of those spaces in one way or another. And beyond her, now Caine could find himself in danger, too. “Oh. Of course.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable to have a gun in your house?” he asked, stepping into a pair of well-worn black boots.
Emma hugged herself and gave a little shrug. “I mean, I don’t love it. But I understand it. And it’s not like you’re asking me to shoot it.”
His gaze cut toward her. “You should probably know how.”
This was the strangest Christmas Day conversation ever. “I’ve fired guns before. I dated a Marine in college, and he was kind of a gun nut. We only lasted two months, but we went to his gun club a few times and I learned the basics of shooting.”
“Well. All right, then,” he said, surprise plain in his voice.
“See? I’m not all sweetness and innocence.” She smirked. She liked surprising him.
Caine finished tying his laces and slanted her a sexy look. “Good to know. Now, tell me what Chewy needs. Just a pit-stop in your yard? A walk around the block?”
“The yard is fine for now, but, er, depending on how deep the snow is you might have to clear him a place to go.” She grimaced. “The snow shovel’s in the stairwell that goes down to the basement door.”
“Got it.” Caine crouched near where Chewy lay upside down on the blanket. “You want to go outside with me?” The dog flopped right-side-up and spun around excitedly. “I think that’s a yes,” Caine said.
“Above and beyond,” she said, a little moved at seeing how nice he was to her dog. That might not seem noteworthy to some people but it meant a lot to her.
“Oh, sweetness,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Not even close.”
Chapter 13
That term of endearment wouldn’t stop playing over and over in Emma’s ears, which meant she couldn’t stop spontaneously grinning. Or maybe the giddiness was from the two orgasms and the amazing sex. Or waking up in a man’s arms on Christmas morning.
Emma freshened up and put on a pair of fleece leggings and one of her favorite long sweaters. The super-soft red cashmere had been a gift from her grandmother three years ago. And even if that hadn’t been true, Emma would’ve adored the sweater anyway for its asymmetrical hem and loose cowl neck.
In the kitchen, Emma put on some coffee while she debated breakfast. The fact that he either didn’t eat breakfast or only ate an apple explained a lot about how lean he was, hard muscle over visible bone. As tall as he was, he could’ve probably picked up a good twenty pounds and still looked thin.
Still debating, she had another idea for Caine, and assembled a little tin of Christmas cookies for him that she slipped into the top of his gift bag.
Finally, she settled on pancakes because she could use her oversized cookie cutters to form the batter into shapes. She mixed the batter and heated the griddle pan, then gave the big snowman-shaped cutter a light dusting of non-stick cooking spray and got the first pancake underway.
Her gaze went to the clock on the stove. It was a little after eight. Definitely late enough that Alison would be awake, but maybe not late enough that they’d be done with their present-opening bonanza. Emma didn’t want to disturb that, but she also needed to decide what to do about dinner. Would it be too weird to bring Caine over? Would he even want to go? Would he think Emma should leave her house at all amid everything that was going on? Heck, did he have Christmas plans of his own to get to?
Emma flipped the first pancake, smiling to see that she’d done a decent job using the cookie cutter. She adjusted the heat for the next one, another snowman.
Even more interesting was another reaction stirring inside her—part of her wanted to stay in this bubble with Caine and see where things might go between them. Well, go beyond sex. Though she was definitely open to more of that, too.
By the time she heard Caine’s boots stomping against her back porch, she had a plate full of snowmen, Santa heads, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. The keys she’d given him turned in the lock, and then Caine was back, red-nosed and grim-faced.
Emma’s shoulders fell. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Everything looks clear.”
Chewy raced happily to his dish, where his breakfast was already waiting.
“Oh. Really?” She searched his expression.
“Really.” He came and pulled her into his arms. “Smells good in here.”
She smiled. “I made festive pancakes.”
“Are there any other kind?” he deadpanned.
That made her laugh. “Good point. I suppose all pancakes are, on some fundamental level, at least a little festive.” She handed him the stacked-high plate. “Take that to the table for me?”
He nodded and did as she asked, and she collected everything else they needed—butter, syrup, silverware, napkins.
“Mind if I grab some coffee?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said with a little smile.
“You have some yet?” he asked, eyebrow arched. She shook her head. “How do you take it?”
Her smile grew, at first because he’d thought to ask. And then, because the potential for innuendo was too good to pass up. “Any way you give it.”
“Keep that up and the pancakes will be ice
cold by the time I’m done with you.”
Emma’s smile grew wider and her pulse spiked. “Two milk, two sugar,” she said.
A moment later, they settled at the table together and dug into the sweet, fluffy hotcakes. She smiled to herself when he made quick work of two and took a third.
“So, I wanted to ask you if you had plans for the day,” she asked. “Somewhere you need to be later?”
He shook his head. “Some of the guys get together for Christmas dinner at the clubhouse, but I don’t always go.”
“Why not? If they’re like your family?” She took a long sip of her coffee. He’d made it perfectly.
He tilted his head and met her waiting gaze. “I guess for so many years the day reminded me of things I’d lost or would never have, and now I just shy away from it rather than face those reminders.”
It was a far more brutally honest answer than she’d expected, and her heart tripped into a sprint as goosebumps raced down her neck. All she could do was nod.
“You have plans for today?” he asked as if he hadn’t just shone a light on part of the wounds inside him for her.
“I’m going to text my friend and cancel them,” she said, deciding in that very instant what to do about Alison’s dinner. Emma wasn’t to be her only guest anyway. Alison’s big family numbered more than twenty when everyone came. Her bestie would understand. “I’d like to spend the day with you.”
He gave a nod, though his gaze didn’t quite meet hers, but she would’ve sworn she saw a little smile play around those full lips. “You gonna eat that last snowflake?” he asked, pointing at the nearly empty platter with his fork.
“Nope. That snowflake has your name all over it,” she said, really freaking satisfied to see him enjoying what she’d made. Not that pancakes were any big deal, but it seemed like the fact that he was eating a real meal might’ve been.
“I bet you’re a real good teacher,” he said, drizzling syrup on each of the arms of the snowflake.
