by Amanda Cowen
His promise frightens me. The sudden panic in his voice is too bewildering and too much. I know he wants me, but deep down I know he is untamable and unconquerable. Is that what he is trying to tell me? What I already fear? Is it because deep down he knows that all we will ever be is hot sex and secret weekend getaways?
“I won’t forget,” I whisper, kissing his rough jaw and chin. My mind can’t worry about our future right now when all my body can focus on is getting its next Cash fix. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” I feel his hands run along the back of my thighs. His touch unleashes a million tiny prickles to radiate all over my wet and bare skin. “Nothing feels right unless I’m with you.”
He reaches up, and digs his hands into my hair. “Don’t say that.”
I lean in closer, pressing my lips against his neck. “It’s true. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
Bending slightly, he kisses my ear. “Vous etes si belle.”
My blood heats at the sound of his rough and ragged voice dissolving into a French accent. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m Canadian. French is my second language.”
“What did you say?” I ask breathlessly, unable to comprehend how Cash keeps on getting sexier.
He moves closer, his hips rolling against mine, his breath hot against my ear. “I said you’re beautiful.”
“I like it. Say something else.”
With a wicked gleam in his eye, he bends his head down and takes smalls nips at my shoulder, then looks back up at me, whispering. “Rester dans mon lit ce soir.”
“And what does that mean?” I ask, studying him. He looks nervous. Whatever he said is scaring the shit out of him to repeat.
“I asked you”—he pauses, cupping my breasts and making me ache in my sex even more— “to stay in my bed tonight.”
My heart swells. “Yes, of course.”
“Good. I want to feel you, taste you, and touch you all night long.”
My breasts heave up and down, my sensitive nipples grazing against the warm skin of his chest. I sit up abruptly, gripping the sides of his face with my hands and bring his lips to mine. He moans into my mouth, and I become lost in his urgent fingers on my hips lifting me up and pulling my entire body on top of him.
I slide my fingers down his rippling eight-pack and wrap his long hard cock in my hand. He catches my wrist and pins both my hands along the back of the sofa, causing my breathing to hitch. Before I can object, he seals his lips over mine, his tongue demanding and urgent.
“Not here,” he growls. “I want you in my bed.”
He grabs me and picks me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist I devour his mouth while he walks us up the stairs, down the hallway and into his room.
He tosses me onto the bed and climbs over top of me, kissing down my stomach until his mouth hovers over my sex. I gasp, digging my hands into the sheets, feeling his skilled tongue against my wet and swollen lips.
He slides his hand along my side, over my hip and between my thighs. His mouth covers my sex as he slips his fingers inside me. I moan when he yanks his fingers out of my sex, but then he pushes my legs apart and thrusts his cock inside me.
The sight of him unraveling almost becomes too much as I rock against him. Low growls emanate from his throat, and my God I love the way he sounds. I grab his hair, feeling my orgasm pulsing and building throughout my body, ready for its release. With every thrust and grind, he’s bringing me closer. I’m almost there and so close to toe curling ecstasy when he slows his tempo.
He brings his face inches from mine. “Tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want,” I say, kissing him again, while he slides slowly in and out, teasing me.
“This?” His mouth captures mine in a hungry kiss as his thumb finds the perfect spot, flicking and circling. He groans and my body throbs, tightening around his length. He plunges inside me, thrust after thrust.
I grab fistfuls of his hair, letting my orgasm shake me into a trembling satisfaction. Crying out into his mouth, I grab his ass and hold him inside me.
“That’s it, sweetheart.” Cash kisses me with a passion that seems to push him right over the edge. He pumps in and out of me, fast and hard, tasting and sucking my tongue into his mouth.
He shakes from his release, and we collapse on the bed together, both breathing hard in the silence. I burrow against him, and he wraps his two strong arms around me. His tender gesture brings a small smile to my lips. He traces his fingers along my skin, making goose bumps sprout up on every bare inch.
“That was amazing,” I whisper when I can finally speak.
“Yeah, it was pretty intense.” His brow crinkles. “I swear I wanted to make this weekend about more than just sex. I did, really. I just had to have you underneath me. I couldn’t resist. How could I not after watching you catch fish today like a pro.”
A huge smile hits my face. “I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”
“You were.” He runs his hand gently down my naked ass. “God, Quinn. There are so many things I want to do with you. Things I want to show you.”
I turn into him, my nose in the soft, warm skin of his neck, relishing his smell. The perfect mixture of honey and cinnamon.
“Is that why you brought me here?”
I can feel Cash’s breath on my temple, “At one time this house was my home. Now it’s abandoned and empty, full of old painful memories and no one left to make new happy ones with. Bringing you here made perfect sense to me. There wasn’t anyone else in the world I could think of to make this place feel whole again. I want new happy memories here. And I want them with you”
“Cash -” I barely get his name out before he’s kissing me deeply, lips hungry, fingers that slip down my body to brush over my nipple.
“Quinn,” he says breathlessly, running his hand through my hair. “Please don’t feel like you have to say something. All I want right now is for you to lay with me.”
I nuzzle under his arm and a comfortable silence descends between us. He fiddles with my hair and I trace random objects on his chest and arms, admiring his smooth hard curves. The time passes effortlessly. I love how safe I feel laying with him this way. I never been this intimate with a man. In the past, I felt too vulnerable being held this long in a man’s arms.
I let out a satisfied sigh at how perfect this feels and run my hand down Cash’s chest. Damn he still smells so good. My mind flips from comfort to wanting more sex as my fingers gently tease around his pubic area, suggestively.
“You know, if you keep on touching me like that, you’re just asking for trouble.”
I reach out and stroke the length of him. “Who said I wasn’t asking for it?”
The gleam in his big blue eyes, a raw and carnal need flicker with promise. “In that case, you’re going to get it. Again.”
Warmth rushes through me as he leans over and kisses me.
Tonight is going to be a long night.
I wake up feeling refreshed with a pleasant ache between my legs. Last night with Cash was one of the best nights of my life. When he made me promise I wouldn't ever forget it, he did a pretty good job of making it unforgettable. Three rounds of earth shattering sex and multiple orgasms is a night is something I’ll never be able to erase from my mind.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand and I reach over and turn off the ringer. I hear Cash groan from the other side of the bed and roll over, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back onto the pillow.
"Don't answer that,” he says. He slides his hand down my side and cups my ass, placing a kiss on my neck.
I look down at the number on my screen. Shit. I swallow hard and let it go to voicemail.
"Who’s calling you so early?" he mumbles in my ear.
“My dad.” I sit up abruptly, tossing the sheets off my naked body. “And it’s not early. It’s almost noon.”
He lies there and watches me get up from the bed, his sexy smile enticing me to crawl back under the she
ets. His body is so lean and cut that even his slightest movements accentuate each and every ripple. I distract myself from gawking at him by tossing on one of his oversized t-shirts. When I pop my head through the top, his eyes still haven’t left my body.
“Don’t torture me, Quinn. Come back to bed.”
I bend over and kiss his ear. “I have to call him back.”
“Why would you do that?” He arches his back and stretches his chest from side to side. “You’re going to have to lie to him about where you are. It’s only going to make things worse.”
“I’ve been avoiding him since the press release. We need to talk. I don’t want him to get suspicious.”
“About what?” He grins, letting his dimples do their worst. “That you’re not little Ms. Perfect?”
I grab the pillow out from under his head and whack him with it. He laughs and snatches the pillow from my hands and pulls me down with it.
“You’re an ass,” I mutter, feeling him playfully kiss me on my cheek. I roll away from him and sit up, tucking my knees under my chin. “Do you really think I shouldn’t call him back?”
He picks up my hand and kisses my palm. “I think you should stop worrying about what daddy thinks and start deciding what you want.”
I exhale slowly. “We both know I can’t have what I want.”
He studies me for a few seconds, his expression growing concerned. I pull my hand from his and we fall into the most awkward silence. Turning away from him, I open my voicemail.
Quinn. Call my cell as soon as you get this message.
I look over at Cash and bite my bottom lip. “He knows.”
He looks genuinely distressed, obviously considering how he is going to respond. “Nah, he’s probably just worried about you.” He gets up from the edge of the bed and walks his naked body around the room and pulls open the door. “Do what you need to do. I’m going to make us breakfast.”
I nod and admire his muscular ass and broad shoulders walk through the doorway until he is out of sight.
With trembling fingers, I dial my father’s number. My chest aches and twists with guilt. I press my phone to my ear. He picks up in the first ring and I only manage to say, “Dad, hi. I—” before he cuts me off.
“I hope you are ready to explain to me why on earth you were involved in some sort of brawl between that idiot Peter Kirkland and Cash Brooks.” My dad’s voice is booming, always authoritative. “I pulled a lot of strings to get you an internship working for the Bruisers. I trusted that you would do your best to promote the team, not destroy its reputation.”
“I never asked you to pull strings for me.” I say, hoping he hears my irritation.
“In case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you that you’re waitlisted for Harvard. When you decided to move back home on a whim, I made it very clear to you that you needed a damn good plan if you dropped your internship in Pennsylvania. Before I introduced you to Theo you were weeks without a decent internship. Harvard doesn’t accept foolish girls without focus on their future. Unless you don’t care about Harvard anymore? Perhaps you want to accept one of your less prestigious offers,” He says, but doesn’t wait for a reply. “Why would you toss away everything you’ve worked so hard for to run after Cash Brooks, the league’s most controversial player and biggest fucking pain in my ass? You’re acting like a heedless child. No smart and driven woman would ever subject herself to such self-destructive behavior while she is on the job and working in the public eye. What the hell is the matter with you? Then you avoid my calls? Theo told me you didn’t show up for work yesterday.”
“What?” I grit my teeth, holding my curses and insults in. I am not a child, and I refuse to be treated like one. But I refuse to disrespectful, even if it’s my dad and warranted. “Theo told me I could have the day off—”
“Boys don’t get you anywhere. Love doesn’t get you anywhere. You get yourself somewhere. This better be the last I hear of you and Cash Brooks. I already told you, he’s trouble. Stay away from him.”
“You’re overacting. You’re not even giving me a chance to speak.”
“That’s because I don’t want to hear lies, Quinn.” His voice is sharp and stern, sending a chill up my spine. “What did I tell you about hockey players? Lyndsey already gives me enough gray hair over her choice in men. I thought you were different. You’re the daughter I can depend on to do what’s right, always.”
“I know Dad, I -”
“Lyndsey said you and Olivia are spending the weekend in Las Vegas? I can’t believe after everything that just happened, you would up and leave your problems behind. I’m sick and tired of you thinking it is okay to walk away when things get tough. Get back to Bexley Monday morning and do the job Theo hired you to do. Start making smarter decisions. I don’t need two reckless daughters. One is enough.”
I want to tell my dad to fuck himself and to confess my feelings for Cash, but deep down I know he is right. I have lost my head. My focus is slim to none, and my libido is taking over my entire thought process. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. I have a horrible, anxious feeling that I’ve started to lose myself in this thing with Cash. I refuse to let that happen.
“It’s called tough love, Quinn,” he continues in my silence. “See you when you get back.”
He clicks off from our call and I drop my phone between my knees. Part of me wants to end this thing with Cash right now and hop on the first plane back to Bexley. For a casual weekend fling I am sure risking a lot. My rash decision to whisk away with him is proving to be way more emotionally taxing than I am prepared for. I can’t afford any distractions, yet I’ve done a pretty good job at distracting myself from all reality.
But I know I also couldn’t stop my feelings for him if I tried, despite what my dad says.
Throwing on a pair of shorts, I head downstairs. When I step into the kitchen, he throws me a smile, making my heart thump in my chest. He is standing over the stove in all his naked glory, frying bacon and eggs.
“How’d it go?” he asks.
I swallow the nervous lodge in my throat, taking few seconds to respond. My internal debate wants to tell him everything. Let him know exactly how I feel about him and hope he feels the same, but it is clear that after my telephone conversation with my dad I need to stop letting my emotions control me. I have to get a grip and start thinking about my future and not about my feelings for Cash. Like my father said—I need to start making smarter decisions.
But if this weekend is all Cash and I are ever going to have, then I need to immerse myself into all of him without holding anything back.
“Good.” I finally reply and sit down on a stool.
Cash nods, studying the twisted emotions swimming in my eyes. I look away from his invasive stare and fiddle with the hem of my shirt. He pulls a plate out from the cupboard and scoops a pile of eggs and bacon onto it. He walks over and kisses me on the forehead before sliding the plate in front of me.
“Whatever was said, Mittens, forget about it. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
Chapter 14
Eating breakfast with Cash is the best type of distraction. It never occurred to me that I would start to care less what my father thinks the longer I admire Cash from the other side of the table. Watching him eat bacon and eggs, shirtless, and what it does to me, well I might as well never go back to Bexley. My mind is officially mush.
And so I spend a good part of the morning mentally blowing off my responsibilities, watching Cash clean up the dishes, take a shower, and get dressed – a white tee shirt and khaki pants. He’s completely oblivious to my struggle. He's clearly avoiding broaching the topic about my conversation with my father. I want to tell him how quickly I’m falling for him, but it takes extraordinary strength to keep my mouth shut when he opens the passenger side door of a limo and smiles at me.
“Ready for some fun?” he asks, there's a determination in the set of his jaw that says he's thinking, plotting.
My stomach
twists with excited nerves. “Can’t wait.”
He wouldn’t tell me what he planned even though begged him. I hate surprises, but I love how he refused to give in. I watch him from the opposite side of the limo as he pours himself a glass of water, his mouth turns into a smile as he watches me nervously fidget with my white pyramid brass necklace.
"Did you make that one too?" he asks.
"I did."
“You’ve got real talent. Ever think of making it as a career?”
Crafting jewelry all day while drinking herbal tea? That would be my dream. Except the problem with dreams is that’s all they are. Dreams. Not reality. Sure, I love my creative outlet, but my father would never approve. It would be the ultimate slap in the face to him. He’d think of me as free-spirited hippie like my mother. Not a chance in hell I’d ever want him to see me that way. And after our telephone conversation this morning, I’m already treading on thin ice.
“I love making jewelry, but my dad would never approve of it as anything more than a hobby. It’s a nice thought though.”
He slides along the leather seat until he’s beside me. I crowd a bit closer, tucking myself neatly into his side. Exhaling, I mold my shape against his.
"So, sports marketing?” he asks, “That’s what you want to do then?"
My heart slowly melts into my gut. We’ve never talked about future plans. Cash and I seem to have what I would say is an elusive relationship — lots of unanswered questions, no promises and great sex— but talking future plans? Definitely new.
"No I’m waiting for Harvard to remove me from their waitlist. I’m waiting for an offer of admission to their MBA program. I’m not sure what I want to specialize in." I say, lifting my chin to look up at him.
