by M. Leighton
The only thing I could identify would be my Tad’s shirts. How sad is that? Maybe I ought to have my underwear monogrammed from now on…
I snicker and roll my eyes at my own wayward thoughts. I have very strange coping mechanisms.
The posh bathroom in our suite has a deep marble tub surrounded by all sorts of bathing accoutrements. On the back of the door hangs a thick robe. Although I have no clean clothes and no toiletries, a bath is too tempting to resist, so I turn on the spigot and undress as the spacious room fills with steam.
Thirty minutes later, I’m examining my pruned fingertips, thinking it’s probably time to get out of the tub. The scent of the lavender bath products has permeated my skin and, after this long of a soak, might very well have invaded my liver. But it’s been worth it. The hot water seems to have drowned out a portion of my thoughts and worries. At least for the moment. My utter exhaustion has helped a fair amount, too. It’s been a seriously long and emotionally taxing week!
I release the drain and let the water out of the tub, toweling off and wrapping myself in the soft, warm robe.
The rich sure do have it easy!
But I rescind that thought almost immediately. Cash comes from money, albeit the ill-gotten kind, and he might argue that some riches aren’t worth the price. In fact, I’d guarantee he would. He’s lost so much because of his father’s pursuit of wealth. Granted, it began as an effort just to feed his family, but it soon turned into more than that. Yes, he wanted out, but he still benefited financially from his ties to organized crime. And look at them now—suffering on every front!
I make my way into the bedroom and slide under the covers to rest my eyes until Cash gets back. I push the worry over how long he’s been gone to the very back of my mind. I refuse to think of him getting hurt, of what that would feel like and how it would affect my life. I can’t think in those terms. I won’t. Whether Cash and I have a future is one thing. Whether he’ll break my heart is one thing. But his death? That’s something else entirely. I can’t bear the thought of a world without him in it, even if he’s not mine.
********
I sit straight up in the bed when I hear a noise. My mind is instantly alert. I’m shocked that I managed to fall asleep. That’s a testament to how fatigued I really was.
I see a shadow pass through in the living room; I left the lights on in there. My heart thuds almost painfully against my ribs as I wait and listen. I hear the soft fall of footsteps against the hardwood floors and I look wildly around the room for some kind of weapon. The only thing I can spot is a vase on the dresser that I could crack over someone’s head, a hotel pen on top of the bedside table I could use to stab someone in the eye, and a Bible that no doubt resides in the top drawer, although I’m not sure I could really harm someone with that. God absolutely could, but I don’t think He works on demand like that.
A presence fills the doorway and my heart jumps up into my throat. Within a fraction of a second, however, recognition calms me.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Cash says quietly from across the room.
I reach over to turn on the lamp, but he stops me. “Don’t. I want you to be able to go back to sleep.”
Fat chance of that happening! I think dryly, but as tired as I still feel, maybe there is a chance.
My pulse is just starting to return to normal when Cash turns to the side, reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. The light from the next room gives him a gilded outline that highlights every rippling muscle as he moves and shifts this way and that to throw his shirt onto a nearby chair.
Blood sings through my veins and throbs in my chest when he reaches for his belt. He says nothing as he unbuttons and unzips his pants. I hold my breath when he pauses with his fingers in the waistband. I see his legs move as he kicks off his shoes.
I’m mesmerized. I can’t help but watch him flick the material down his muscular legs and then step out of them. My heart stops and my mouth goes dry when I see that he’s not wearing underwear. And he’s hard. My mouth is the only thing on my body that’s dry, though. My skin feels dewy and warm moisture is gathering between my thighs.
Breathlessly, I watch him drape his jeans over the back of the chair and turn to walk to the bed, folding back the covers and sliding in next to me.
I don’t move a muscle. And, at first, neither does he. After a minute, he reaches for me. The touch of his fingers sliding over my exposed forearm is like pure electricity. It brings chills out on my skin. They race up my arms and down my back, and cause my nipples to furl into tight, aching buds.
I’m surprised and a little disappointed when he urges me onto my side. He pulls me tight against the curve of his body and spoons me from behind.
I can feel every rock hard inch of him pressing into my back side, even through the material of the robe. Before I can even think about the wisdom of it, I wiggle my butt against him. It’s instinct. And desire. My body’s got a mind of its own apparently.
I hear the breath hiss through Cash’s gritted teeth and he grows absolutely still. For several long, tense seconds, he doesn’t move. Neither do I. I want him to touch me, to put his hands and his mouth on me and make me forget the world exists, even for a little while. But when he finally does, touch me that is, it’s to drape his arm over my waist and tuck his fingertips against the bed, under my side. I feel his lips as he nuzzles my neck and my heart melts right inside my chest.
He wants me. I can still feel it. But he’s keeping himself in check for me, for my comfort and my emotional stability. His thoughtfulness pushes me one step closer to never being able to recover from having him in my life, from having met him and known the depth of feeling that I have for him.
For the umpteenth time since meeting Cash, I realize I’m quite possibly in big, big trouble.
Dammit.
We lie quietly together, breathing deeply and evenly, both of us waiting for our bodies to cool. I never thought it could be literally painful to be near someone. But it is. I ache with want, with need. There’s a place, an emptiness that only Cash can fill. It’s physical, yes. Oh boy, is it physical! Just the thought of him penetrating me, thrusting so hard and so deep inside me…
I squeeze my eyes shut and banish the thoughts from my mind. I have to start cooling off all over again.
Grrrrr.
But there’s something more profound about the way Cash makes me feel, too. He fills an emptiness that has only recently become a gaping chasm in my soul. Since meeting Cash, in fact. It’s like he created it, but at the same time, he can fill it, too.
With a heartfelt sigh, I turn off that brain channel as well. It’s going nowhere good. Fast.
“So,” I begin when the silence and the closeness is too much. “How’d it go?”
I chastise myself. The call is what I should be worried most about anyway, not trying to keep my hands to myself. Or wishing Cash wasn’t keeping his hands to himself.
Cash’s sigh stirs the hair behind my ear and gives me chills down one arm.
“They went for it. I don’t think they liked it very much, but I think I kept my cool and convinced them that the books were locked up at the bank for safekeeping. Assholes,” he whispers at the end.
“Did they let you talk to Marissa?”
“Yeah.”
“And? How was she?”
“I think there’s a pretty good chance she’ll actually kill them by accident. I feel kinda sorry for ‘em.”
I can’t help but grin. “So she wasn’t taking her…captivity well?”
“She seemed to be polite to them, but she chewed my ass. There’s no question who she blames in this scenario. The good thing is, unless they tell her I’m both brothers, she can just blame me and not drag Nash and all his accomplishments through the mud.”
“With Marissa, I would expect nothing less.”
I feel bad speaking that way about her when she’s being held hostage. I mean, what a nightmare! But Marissa’s pretty much a n
ightmare, too. Maybe the whole thing will somehow make her a better person. Or maybe a sharp blow to the head will give her an epiphany. Or maybe they used chloroform on her and it will alter her personality and make her likeable and decent. Anything’s possible, right?
“So what’s the plan then?”
“There are some things I need to look into tomorrow. And I want to go see Dad. Not only does he need to know about this, but he might be able to help.”
“How? The man is in prison.”
“I know that,” Cash replies a bit sharply. “But he knows these people, knows how they think. Plus, he’s always been good with plans and strategy. I don’t want to risk overlooking something. There’s too much at stake,” he says, pulling me tighter against him.
We fall silent. I’m sure Cash’s mind is churning harder and faster than mine, which is pretty damn hard and fast. But he has the added weight of guilt, not to mention all the buried pain this must be unearthing.
“Cash,” I begin softly.
“Yeah, baby,” he whispers near my ear, the endearment settling around me like a warm blanket.
“I don’t blame you.”
He squeezes me and presses his lips to my shoulder. I can barely feel them through the lapel of my robe.
“Can I take this off you?” he breathes. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”
A pang of desire zings through me at the thought of him holding my naked body against his. It was only a few hours ago that we had sex for the fifth time today, but it feels like an eternity ago. So much has happened since then, so many emotions have come and gone, that it feels…different.
“Yes,” I whisper in response, answering him before my mind can talk me out of it.
I start to sit up, but Cash stops me. He leans up on one elbow and pulls my hair away from my face and neck, bending to press his lips against the soft skin beneath my ear.
“Let me.”
I do my best to relax when I feel his hand go to the knotted belt at my waist. He works it loose with his nimble fingers and then slowly pulls one end until it falls away.
Next, I feel his skin brush mine at my chest. He runs his hand along the inside of the lapel of the robe, opening it and pulling it away from my body all the way to my hip.
As light as the lavender scent emanating from my pores, Cash reaches up and eases the plush material over the ball of my shoulder, gently pressing his lips to the skin there. “You smell so good.”
Ever so slightly, his hips tip into mine. Desire gushes low into my belly when I feel his hardness press against me.
He drags his fingers along the skin of my arm, pushing the robe away as he goes. I bend my elbow and pull my arm free of the sleeve. Cash reaches down to push the rest of it off my legs.
“Turn toward me.”
Excitement humming along my nerve ends, I do as he asks and I turn onto my back and then continue rolling until I’m facing him. I’m so close, if I puckered my lips just right, I could kiss his chin.
In the dimly lit room, I can see his eyes sparkle like black diamonds. The light from the living room spills softly through the door and illuminates half his face, leaving the other half in deep shadow.
I can hear his breathing. I can feel the heat pouring from his body. I know he’s as excited as I am, that he wants this just as much as I do, and yet he’s willing to hold off. Just for me.
But what if I don’t want him to? What if, despite the never ending doubts and misgivings and horrors of the day, I want him? Is that enough? For now? Would that be so bad?
It is in a way. In another way, it’s not. But the fact of the matter is, right now I need Cash. I need him to hold me, to kiss me, to touch me. I need him inside me, filling me up with his presence and his security. Tomorrow will bring new worries. I can think more then.
Just as slowly, Cash runs his fingers up over my collarbone and pushes the material off my other shoulder. It hangs on the tip of my breast and I see his eyes drop to my chest. I suck in a breath and hold it. His gaze burns like a physical touch.
Deliberately, he raises his hand to the center of my chest and runs the backs of his fingers over my nipple, freeing the robe and exposing my flesh to his hungry eyes. Again, he doesn’t move for several seconds. Again, neither do I. When his eyes flicker up to mine, they’re full of all sorts of things, but most apparent is resolve. He won’t let himself give in. Not tonight. It’s that important to him. Why, I don’t know. Maybe I’m that important to him. I can only hope.
Leaning slightly forward, Cash pushes the robe off me, toward my back, running his hand over my butt and then up to the side of my thigh. When I’m lying in front of him, as naked as he is, he lets his eyes wander over me.
I see them close just before he rolls onto his back and raises his arm to loop over my head. He pulls me onto his chest. I let my hand skate over the hard muscles of his stomach and drape my knee over his thigh.
I can’t hear him breathing. I wonder if he’s holding his breath. I don’t know, but I can hear his heart slamming against his ribs. He’s fighting me, fighting us, fighting this.
I think for a second of teasing him a little, of changing his mind, but respect for what he’s doing rears up and stops me. I don’t want to make more out of his consideration than what it is, but that still leaves me with the question: what does it mean?
Cash’s lips graze my hair just before he croaks, “Go to sleep, baby. You’re safe. I promise.”
On some level, I must believe him. So I sleep.
********
Something shifts at my back. It’s smooth and warm, and it takes me less than a second to realize it’s Cash. He’s behind me. And he’s naked.
His hips flex, pressing his erection into the crease of my butt. Without thought to consequence, I arch my back and push into him.
I hear him suck in a breath and my stomach flutters in response.
He’s awake.
Please don’t let this be a dream.
One big hand skates over my hip and onto my stomach then up to cup my breast. With his fingertips, he teases the nipple until it aches for him, for his mouth. Reaching up, I place my hand over his, squeezing his fingers. He kneads my sensitive flesh until my pulse steps up to a quicker beat.
I feel his lips at the curve of my neck. Then his tongue. It sneaks out to wet a circle on my skin then he nips it with his teeth. Chills break out down my chest and back, and my belly tightens in anticipation.
I want this to happen. I need this to happen. So I go with it. I encourage it. I throw myself into it.
Reaching behind me, I grab his hip and pull him into me, grinding my butt against him. I hear him groan as his hand leaves my breast to travel back down my stomach to the juncture of my thighs. I spread them the tiniest bit to allow him to touch me. And he does. He slides one long finger between my folds, pausing only briefly to flutter over the nub at the top before slipping inside me.
“Mmm, what’s this?” he says, pulling his finger out and then thrusting it in farther. My nails bite into his hip and he flexes against me again. He’s even harder. And bigger. If that’s possible.
“Were you dreaming about me?” he whispers in my ear. “It sure feels like you were.” He rubs me with his palm and penetrates me with his fingers. “Were you dreaming of me touching you like this? Or were you dreaming of me doing more?”
I say nothing. I can’t think past what he’s doing to me, past what I want him to do to me. Over and over and over again.
“I think you were. I think you want this, but you’re afraid. But not tonight. Don’t be afraid tonight. Just let me have you. Let me show you how good we are together.”
Gently, Cash moves from behind me. I start to roll onto my back, but he stops me. “No,” he says flatly. When I start to speak, he cuts me off. “Shhh,” he murmurs, rolling me onto my stomach. “Onto your knees.” I hesitate only for a second, but it’s long enough. “Do it,” he orders softly. “I promise you’ll like it.”
I
come up onto my hands and knees. I feel Cash’s warm body at the backs of my legs and my butt as he moves in closer to me. His warm hands find my hips. His fingertips dig in and he pulls me back into him, his hardness pressing against me. A shiver of pure lust trembles through me.
Pushing gently, he urges me forward. I crawl toward the headboard until I’m hovering over my pillow. “Reach out with your hands.”
I do it, curling my fingers around the top of the wooden headboard. Slowly, Cash bends over me until I can feel his chest against my back. He breathes into my ear, “Spread your legs.” When I do, one of his hands moves between them from behind me. He puts his thumb inside me as his fingertips play with the slippery skin between my folds. If I were standing, I would collapse. I feel his touch all the way in my knees. I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips in a rush.
“You like that?” His tongue flicks my earlobe.
“Yes,” I say with what little breath I have.
He moves my hair aside and kisses the back of my neck, then the center of my back. I feel his warmth moving away as his lips make a trail down to my lower back and over my butt.
The bed moves as he shifts behind me. I feel his head slip between my legs and press into the pillow between them. I look down just as he looks up and, in the low light, I see his black eyes sparkle. The fire in them is enough to make me flush all over.
He never takes his eyes off mine as he, from the back, winds his hands around the tops of my legs and pulls me down onto his mouth.
The first touch of his tongue is like lightning. Heat gushes through my core and lands in a puddle against his lips as they move over me.
“Ride me,” he growls, his voice thick with desire. As if to encourage me, he thrusts his tongue deep inside me.
