by JM Stewart
She frowned. “Why?”
He had to be grinning like a fool at this point, but he felt lighter than he had in a while. Thoughts of Cassie occupied his mind, leaving him blissfully free. He was damn well going to enjoy it. “Because I want to see your ass in those jeans.”
A slow grin curled across her face, but she obliged and turned her back to him. She even had the audacity to wiggle said denim-covered ass. She teased, of course, but every inch of him stood up and took notice.
While some part of his brain reminded him he had an actual reason for taking her out, he stepped across the threshold anyway and cupped her ass in his hands. Damned if he didn’t want to peel off those jeans, just to feel her skin. Part her thighs and dive between them. He could spend hours making love to her and never get enough. Skin on skin, with nothing between them but the perspiration they worked up in each other.
Christ. That had to be a record. Under a minute and she had his cock thickening behind his zipper and hunger blazing a trail through his blood. He’d never get through tonight.
When he squeezed her cheeks—because what man in his right mind could resist?—she squealed and giggled, spinning to face him. His arms closed around her of their own accord, and the playful moment flitted away. As his hands reclaimed their hold on her backside, it occurred to him exactly where he was and how he’d gotten there. The panic hadn’t come this time. The memories weren’t beating down his door. There was only Cassie and the light in her eyes.
Her palms settled on his pecs, warming his skin through his T-shirt, and although she flashed a sweet smile, wickedness glinted in her eyes. “You’re in an awful good mood tonight. You didn’t finish what we started earlier, did you?”
He settled his fingers in her back pockets, tugging her flush against him. No way could she not feel his reaction to her. His zipper pressed painfully against his erection.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been hard for hours, and it’s your fault.” He leaned down, caught her bottom lip between his teeth, and tugged gently. “You’re in big trouble later.”
Cassie’s playful smile melted, her eyes growing distant. Was she still having doubts about him? About them? Was she standing there trying to decide if a night with him was even worth it?
He tightened his hold, drawing her in tight. If he couldn’t convince her to give him more, he might only have one night with her, but he wanted it all. “We’ll negotiate the time frame later. And since you asked, I’m curious. Did you finish after we hung up?”
“No. Damn you.” She glared up at him, though one corner of her mouth twitched. “I’m throbbing, no thanks to you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit still tonight.”
He grinned, full-out, because damn, he couldn’t help himself. If all went according to plan, she’d be climbing his body by the time he dropped her off later. “Yeah, well, good, because so am I. Besides, you won’t be sitting for hours.”
She wound her hands around his neck and pressed her body into his, pushed her breasts into his chest, and rocked her hips against his. She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. A devious attempt to persuade him, no doubt. “We could always skip the date and get to the fun stuff sooner.”
A quiet groan escaped him. Did she know how much he wanted to do exactly that?
With a strength he didn’t know he possessed, he reached up and unwound her arms, took her hands in his, and stepped back away from the temptation she presented. The glimmer in her eyes said she knew how difficult it was for him, too. The little minx.
“No way. If one night’s all I’ve got, you can bet your sweet ass I’m going to make the most of it. And that includes the simple things like having dinner and doing something fun.” He winked, then forced himself to release her hands and glanced at her feet. Bare toes, of course. “You’ll need socks, baby. And a sensible pair of shoes.”
She let out a reluctant sigh and released him.
“Fine. Have it your way, but don’t plan on sleeping tonight.” She rolled her eyes and spun away from him, but as quickly as she’d turned, she halted. Tension rose over her, bunching her shoulders, and for a moment, she stood stock-still.
He didn’t have to ask to know what she thought. The question hung in the air between them, and the heat of moments before evaporated. Tyler tucked his hands in his pockets and waited her out. He didn’t know the answer to this question. Oh, he knew what he wanted. Exactly what she did: to spend the night in her arms. He ached, in a way he didn’t have the words to explain, to curl around her and hold her until morning came. He wanted to spend every night wrapped around her.
He just didn’t know if he could give it to her. At least not yet.
“Will you stay?”
The quiet meekness of her voice stabbed at his chest. He hated telling her this, but he had to be honest with her. “Baby, I don’t know.”
Staying the night with her scared the hell out of him. What would she see when he let his guard down and finally managed to sleep? Would he dream? Would this be the night he cried out? Or sobbed like a goddamn child? His mother was one thing, but her? He needed what little manhood he still had left.
Long moments passed in aching silence. The kind filled with everything he ought to tell her but couldn’t find the words to express. Things he knew damn well she thought, too, but wouldn’t voice.
Cassie broke the silence first.
“Your death was hard on me, you know. I have a lot of regrets, Tyler. I spent three years with this ache in my chest, telling myself I should have said it when I had the chance. Except you’re not dead and here you are, but it doesn’t matter, because you want to go back over there and I can’t watch you do it. It’s cruel. I know. I understand why you want to, but if you die over there…” Her voice hitched, and she drew a shaky breath, reaching up to run her fingers beneath her eyes. “If you insist on going back, you’re going to have to do it without me. I’ve lost too many people. I won’t lose you again.”
Tyler stood stunned. He couldn’t be sure if he wanted to shout from the damn rooftops or sink to his knees and beg for forgiveness. She hadn’t said the words, but her meaning rang clear as day. I’ll be goddamned. She did care, maybe more than she wanted him to know, but she cared all the same.
“Well, if it happens, it won’t be for months. They still have to clear me to go. I’m here now. I just want to enjoy whatever time you’ll give me.”
Some part of his brain told him not to say the words. The time wasn’t right. She deserved…something more than what he had. Sweet, perfect words. A romantic setting. Right then, he didn’t have any of that, but the words fell out anyway, because deep down, he needed her to know. He might not get the chance to say it later.
“I hit a low point out there, Cassie. I’m not proud to say it. It doesn’t make me feel like a damn hero to think it, either, but there were times I wanted to die, where I prayed they’d kill me and get it over with. It’s one thing to be kept in a cage and starved. Hell, I could tolerate the beatings, the guns shoved in my face. After a while, numbness became second nature. It’s another, though, to realize you’re the only one left. And I hadn’t a damn clue why.”
He waited. For her to say something. To admit he disgusted her, because the sick sensation in his stomach told him she had to be.
When she didn’t, he dug in his pocket, pulling out the ring. He took it with him everywhere he went.
“You want to know what got me through? You. I kept that ring in my pocket. On those dark nights, that’s what I held on to. It kept me grounded. It gave me hope, something to live for, to fight for. When I tried for an escape that last time, they were moving me again. I’d spent the previous night dreaming about you. It was so damn real I woke up expecting to find you there.”
Yeah. The cold realization of waking alone, knowing he’d likely never see her again, had ripped a hole in him he didn’t think would ever heal.
“That’s when I decided. If I was going out, if they were going to kill me anyway, then I was goin
g down fighting. Maybe I’d only get ten yards from the compound, but I was going to die knowing I tried to get home. Do you want to know why?”
Her breathing hitched, and her shoulders began to shake, but Cassie didn’t move or so much as turn around. He couldn’t be sure if he wanted her to.
“Because I had to see you one more time. You want to know why I showed up at the auction? That’s it. Because after a while, I started to wonder if I’d only dreamt you, and I needed to see you, to touch you, to remind myself that you were real. Not something my mind had conjured. So, maybe this is the only night you’ll give me, but I need it.”
He needed this date like he needed his heart to keep beating.
She finally turned to face him. The tears streaming down her face sliced at his insides. “Ty…”
“Uh-uh.” He cut her off at the pass, stopping her words before they could leave her mouth, and closed the distance between them. He had no desire to talk about this shit now. For a few blissful moments, the storm raging in his head had quieted, lost in her, and he wanted to enjoy the silence for as long as he could.
Her mouth opened again, but he put a finger to her lips. “I’ve said what I needed to say. The rest of this crap? This heavy stuff? Stays here.” He jabbed a pointed finger at the floor. “We can talk about it later if you want, but not now. I need this, Cassie. I need to get lost for a while.”
At some point, he’d have to tell her why, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it now. If she cried again, he’d crumble.
She closed her mouth, and he cupped her face in his palms, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. Despite the desperate need pounding around in his chest to close his arms around her and refuse to let her go, he offered her a smile and forced himself to release her.
“Tonight, we’re going to have a little good old-fashioned fun. Now”—he dropped his gaze to her pink-painted toenails and forced a smile—“put some socks and shoes on and let’s get the hell out of here.”
She reached up, wiping the last of the tears from her cheeks, and nodded, then turned and moved through the apartment. Tyler folded his arms, shifted his weight to his right foot, and leaned against the wall to wait. Cassie didn’t do “quick.” Hell, ten minutes could pass before she emerged again.
He was right, of course. More than a few minutes passed before she finally returned to the hallway. What she wore on her feet had him shaking his head. Boots. Not any boots, either, but knee-high black ones that looked like they were made of velvet or something. They also had four-inch heels.
He couldn’t stop his grin. That was her in a nutshell. His spoiled little princess. Cassie never—ever—left the house looking less than perfect.
Tyler frowned and pushed away from the wall. “Oh, for crying out loud. It’s not a fashion show. Don’t you own a pair of sneakers or something?”
As she came to a stop in front of him, her eyes widened, shock rolling across her features. “God, no. Sneakers are required for things like exercise, and the only exercise I do is shopping.” She waved a dismissive hand in the air and glanced at her feet. “Besides, what’s wrong with my boots? These are Christian Louboutin, I’ll have you know.”
“Oh. Well, that explains it, then.” He rolled his eyes. Yeah, like he knew what that meant. He owned two pairs of shoes: his regulation boots, which had worn out a long time ago, and the hiking boots he currently wore. And about two pairs of jeans come to think on it. One to wear and one to wash. How the two of them ever fit together was beyond him.
“You’re just going to have to take them off when we get where we’re going, Cass.” He sighed. He’d have to clue her in or they’d never leave the house. “We’re just going bowling.”
Her gaze shot to his, dark brows clear up in her hairline. “Bowling? Seriously?”
Yeah, he was taking the most spoiled woman he knew to a bowling alley. He was probably insane, but he wanted her off her game, and he wanted to have a little fun with her. What the hell did people do for fun nowadays? He’d been gone for so long he hadn’t a damn clue.
Cassie went to clubs, that much he knew. He’d gone with her a time or two, back when, but no way in hell he could do one of those again. Wall to wall people and music so loud he couldn’t hear himself think? Yeah. That was a meltdown waiting to happen. No thanks. Besides, he hadn’t been bowling in eons, and it would go well with his plans.
“Yes. Bowling.”
Her cute little nose wrinkled in disgust. “Oh, you want me to stick my feet in those nasty shoes. Shoes a hundred people have worn before me.”
This time, he couldn’t contain his laughter and offered her an elbow. “Yup. That’s about it. Come on, princess. Your chariot awaits.”
Cassie moved into the kitchen, grabbed her keys from the island counter and a little white purse she tucked beneath her left arm. She gave an indignant huff and instead of taking his elbow strode past him to a closet in the hallway. There she got out a long tan coat, pulled it on, and strode out the front door. “I am not a princess.”
He laughed as he followed her wiggling ass out into the vestibule and pulled the door shut behind him. “Yes, you are. I’m surprised you didn’t come out wearing seven-inch stilettos.”
“I almost did. Just to spite you.” She shoved a key into the lock and turned it. The dead bolt slid home with a quiet thunk, and she finally turned to face him. “Are we really going bowling?”
He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Mom used to take us on the weekends when we were kids.” He hitched a shoulder. “We went in honor of Dad. He liked to bowl, and we always had fun. I considered the usual dinner and a movie, but that’s boring. Everybody does dinner and a movie.”
Not to mention the thought of sitting in a cramped, dark theater made him break out in a cold sweat. At least a bowling alley had an open floor plan, no small rooms, save the bathroom, and he’d have good memories to ground him.
“Besides”—he leaned sideways, nudging her with his shoulder—“I’d like to make you a little wager, and bowling’s a good game to bet on.”
She studied him for a moment. Something thoughtful passed over her face he couldn’t quite grasp before she finally arched a brow. “Were you any good?”
The memories rose over him, filling his mind, and he laughed and shook his head. “Terrible. Dean got the good genes, I’m afraid.”
Dean had always been the golden boy. Smart, good at everything he tried, and popular to boot. Tyler had always hung with the troublemakers. The ones who smoked, stole liquor from their parents’ cabinets, and egged people’s houses on Halloween. Yeah, he’d been that kid. He’d grown up, of course, had sown his wild oats a long time ago, chose his friends a bit more carefully, but he still preferred his own company. Or in this case, hers.
“Not from my point of view, he didn’t.” Cassie stuck her chin in the air, strode to the elevator, and punched the button. The quiet whir of the motor filled the silence. When the doors dinged open moments later, she stepped inside and turned to look at him. One perfectly curved brow arched. “You coming, soldier boy?”
The teasing gleam in her eye pulled a chuckle out of him. That look right there would be worth whatever fight she’d give him tonight.
He winked at her. “Not yet, princess. Not yet.”
When he stepped into the elevator beside her and the door slid shut, the enclosed space had a sweat breaking out along his skin. Needing something to ground him, he held out his hand from his side, palm up. The question was, would she take it?
She glanced down, stared for a moment, then looked back up at him. Confusion, fear, and desire all mixed in her gaze. Along with a glimmer of something, like a pulse that moved between them: tenderness. It softened the fear sparking in her eyes.
A blush slid into her cheeks, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but her fingers slid between his.
They walked in an oddly comfortable silence to the street, where he’d parked Dean’s BMW in front of her building. He hit the key fo
b, and she glanced from the car to him. “Dean’s?”
He nodded.
She stood for a moment chewing on her lower lip. Would she voice her thoughts? Before he could ask, she glanced at him again. “What happened to your bike?”
Ah, his motorcycle. He’d bought it as a birthday present to himself when he turned eighteen. He’d saved for years, working as soon as the law would allow him, to get that bike. They’d spent some wonderful hours riding around, Cassie clinging to his back.
“Still in the garage where I left it. Mom said she couldn’t bear to part with it. I haven’t gone out there yet to see if it still runs. Neither Mom nor Dean know how to ride, so it’s just been sitting. Chances are it needs some work before it’ll run. Thought about working on it today, but it’s chilly, and I figured my princess wouldn’t want to be cold, anyway.” He bumped her shoulder, grateful when she blushed and let out a quiet laugh.
She bumped him back. “I am not a princess.”
“Oh, you most definitely are a princess. And spoiled to boot.” He grinned and glanced down at her feet. “Those shoes just prove my point.”
“Yeah, well, you’re wrong on this one.” She released his hand and moved around to the passenger side, a teasing spark glinting in her eyes as she peered at him over the roof of the car. “I would love to have gone for a ride. I happen to be very fond of that bike.”
She didn’t wait for him to respond but pulled open her door. The naughty-girl smile she shot him before she climbed into the car pulled a groan out of him. In two seconds flat he was hard again and pulsing behind his zipper. Her delivery was subtle, he’d give her that, but unless he was mistaken, she was remembering the night they made love on that bike.
The memory filled his mind. Parked on the side of a deserted stretch of road, the stars above them peeking out from behind the cloud cover. Her seated in his lap, the short skirt she’d insisted on wearing up around her waist, and him buried inside of her. He didn’t remember much else about that night, but he’d never forget the erotic picture she’d made. Her hair spilling down her back, face tipped toward the moonlit sky, eyes closed in bliss as she rode him.
