by SJ West
I come to a complete stop and turn around to look at Cade.
“Whatever for?” I have to ask.
Cade looks around as if he’s searching for something in particular. Presumably he finds it, because a pleased grin stretches his lips as he looks back at me and holds out a hand for me to take.
“Come with me,” he beckons, “and I’ll show you exactly why I like walking through them.”
I give him my hand to hold, and he gently tugs me forward to follow him past rows of tombstones. We finally come to a stop in front of a rather sad excuse for a grave marker. It’s a large plank of wood that someone painted on for the inscription.
Here lies Howard Abernathy
Beloved Husband and Father
Bring us, O Lord God, at our last awakening into the house and gate of heaven
“Such elegant wording should be on a more impressive tombstone,” I comment dryly, not understanding why Cade purposely picked this particular grave marker to point out to me.
“I don’t think Howard Abernathy really cares that his family didn’t have the money to buy him a fancy headstone. I’m sure he’s happy just to be remembered so fondly by the people he loved most in this world.”
“That bottom phrase sounds familiar to me. Why is that?”
“It’s part of an Anglican prayer by a man named John Donne. It’s possible Lucifer either heard or read it at some point in time and passed the knowledge onto you through one of his memories.”
“Yes, that’s probably why.” I begin to walk down the row of graves we’re on and notice a theme to the tombstones we pass. “It seems as though everyone here was loved by at least one person during their lives.”
“Yes,” Cade replies as he follows behind me. “That’s the reason I like coming here. I’m sure some of these people weren’t the nicest in life, yet those they left behind chose to memorialize the love they once shared. I think that says a lot about humanity.”
“What? That they’re forgetful?” I scoff with a derisive snort.
“No,” he says patiently. “That they can forgive almost anything, given enough time. I think that’s a quality worth admiring, don’t you?”
“If you want my honest opinion, I would have to say no. I find it rather pathetic. If someone was cruel to others, why should they be remembered in a favorable way?”
“How would you want to be remembered?”
“I can’t die, so your question is moot,” I quip.
“But let’s say that you could die; how would you want the world to remember you?”
“As someone who took charge and never let anything get in her way.”
“Wouldn’t you want someone to call you ‘beloved’ on your tombstone?”
“I guess it depends if they meant the sentiment or if they simply put it there to make them feel better about themselves. Have you ever considered the possibility that these people simply put what was expected of them by others on the grave markers of their dearly departed? Human society seems more concerned about the way things appear than how they actually are. If you ask me, they’re just a bunch of hypocrites who allow themselves to become slaves to what the social order dictates.”
“That’s an extremely cynical way to view the world, Helena.”
I shrug, unaffected by his words. “What can I say? I’m a glass-half-empty kind of person.”
Cade remains silent after my declaration. I think the reality of his self-imposed task to reform me is finally sinking into his psyche. I slow my gait quite a bit until he’s walking by my side. Without giving it much fanfare, I reach out and grab ahold of his hand as we continue to walk through the cemetery.
As we’re walking down our third row of graves, a light rain begins to fall.
“I guess we should probably go,” Cade says, sounding unsure about where to take me next. “Do you want to go back to Hell?”
“No,” I say, continuing to walk as the rain gradually begins to pick up in intensity. “You said you wanted me to experience new things, and walking in the rain is something I’ve never done before. Let’s just enjoy it while we can. My clothes are basically ruined anyway.”
Cade doesn’t make a verbal reply. He simply tightens his hold on my hand and continues to walk in the steady pace we’ve set for ourselves. It doesn’t take long before we’re both drenched to the bone. A strong gust of wind begins to lash the raindrops against our skin, and I involuntarily shiver from the cold. Before I’m even given the opportunity to make a protest, Cade phases us out of the graveyard and into a living room I’ve never been to before. The home we’re in is filled with an old-world charm. The walls are painted a warm white, and the sandstone-colored beams in the ceiling are exposed, adding a sense of rustic simplicity. The upholstered furniture in the room is arranged around a white driftwood coffee table with an oval-shaped glass top. The furnishings and knick-knacks scattered around all follow a general color scheme, ranging from white to a seafoam blue. As I turn to look around the room, I see a large panel of glass on an outside wall facing an ocean.
“Where are we?” I ask as I continue to take note of the open floor plan of the space, which includes a kitchen opposite the living room.
“This is my down-world home in Cirrus,” Cade informs me as he watches my initial reaction to his house. “Do you like it?”
“It’s very … you,” I reply as I look away from the room and back at him.
“Very me,” he says, mulling over my words. “Is that a good thing or a bad one in your opinion?”
“Neither,” I say candidly. “It’s simply a statement of fact. Now, why exactly are we here?”
“I thought you might like to get out of your wet clothes.”
Intrigued by his suggestion, I raise a questioning eyebrow and ask, “And will you be helping me out of them, dear heart?”
Cade looks embarrassed by my teasing and looks away, unable to meet my gaze.
“That wasn’t my intention,” he mutters before chancing a glance back in my direction. “At least not yet.”
I have to smile at his cheekiness. “Well, just for the record, I anxiously await the time when it is your intention.”
Cade lifts his right hand to softly cup the left side of my face. He holds my gaze with his, and I feel a sexual tension develop between us that even he can’t deny. The pad of his thumb slowly follows the contour of my cheekbone. When he takes a small step forward, I patiently wait for him to follow through with what should naturally come next: a kiss.
To my great disappointment, he phases me to a bathroom in his home. It’s large with a slate-tiled walk-in shower, separate bathtub, toilet, and vanity.
“A shower should help warm you up,” he says, dropping his hand away from my face and back to his side. He turns around and walks over to the vanity. Once there, he bends down to open the cabinet underneath the sink and pulls out a fluffy white towel. He then proceeds to walk back and hold the towel out for me to take.
“I think I can find you something to wear in my closet.”
I almost suggest that it might be easier if I just phase to my room in Nimbo and retrieve some of my own clothes, but I decide against it. For one thing, I don’t want to run the risk of seeing Levi. The other reason is that being clothed by Cade in his own garments might help hasten the connection we’re building with one another. Wearing your potential lover’s clothing is a rather intimate act. Maybe if he sees me completely undone—sans makeup with perfectly coiffed hair—I’ll seem more approachable. I honestly don’t know what he’s waiting for to happen before he finally deems it’s time for us to have sex. I know he wants me; of that I have no doubt. I just need to figure out how to make him realize we could be enjoying each other’s bodies instead of denying ourselves a great deal of pleasure.
“Thank you,” I tell him, accepting the towel. “I would appreciate some fresh clothing.”
“I’ll leave them by the sink,” he tells me before phasing to what looks like his bedroom, considering the fact
I can see a bed through his phase trail.
If I thought I could be successful in my seduction of him, I would follow Cade’s trail and throw caution to the wind. However, I know the gesture would be a futile one. No. I’ll simply be patient and wait for him to decide when the time is right. I shake my head in dismay. Patience has never been one of my strong suits. Yet where Cade is concerned, I seem to have an abundance of it.
After I strip off my wet clothing and step into the glass-enclosed shower, the warm spray of water from the showerhead instantly melts away the tension in my muscles. Even though I want to, I don’t linger in the water for very long. I have more important matters to attend to with Cade.
When I step out of the shower and begin to dry off with my towel, I notice a folded white T-shirt and a pair of black drawstring shorts sitting on top of the vanity. I dry my hair as well as I can before dressing in the clothes Cade left for me. The V-neck T-shirt is long and hangs to mid-thigh. I consider just wearing the shirt and nothing else but decide against it. If I had some clean underwear I might do it, but I don’t think he would appreciate me sitting bare-bottomed on his furniture. The shorts are, of course, too big, but after wrapping the drawstring around my slim waist twice, I’m able to keep them from falling off.
I scrutinize my appearance in the mirror above the sink and like what I see. My cheeks and lips are a rosy red from the warmth of the water, and my hair looks tousled enough to give the illusion of natural, stretched-out curls. I flip my hair to the side and begin to fluff it up a bit by scrunching it with my fingers.
I immediately stop the motion of my hand as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
What in the world am I doing?
I’m primping for someone who should feel fortunate to have me want him in my bed. If anyone should be making an added effort here, it should be Cade! Why am I acting like some simpering lovesick girl trying to attract the attention of her beau?
Ludicrous. I immediately use both of my hands to ruffle my hair, completely messing it up. If Cade wants me, he should be the one doing all the work to have me, not the other way around.
I stomp out of the bathroom, feeling rather superior about my stance. The room I step into turns out to be a bedroom. Following the general beach theme of the house, the large bed in the room is covered with an ocean blue comforter, trimmed in white with a coral motif embroidered into the fabric. Standard pillows stacked three deep and a grouping of matching throw pillows add a feel of hominess to the ensemble. The room is mostly white with splashes of blue to add contrast.
When I walk out of the bedroom, I find myself back in the living room. I don’t see Cade anywhere, but I do spy that the front door is wide open, allowing the sound of the ocean to breach the general silence of the house. After I step over the threshold, I soon discover the large front porch attached to Cade’s home.
“Do you feel better?” I hear him ask from the right of me.
I turn my head and find him lying on a large swing bed that is hanging from the porch ceiling by four thick chains with nautical rope twisted around them. The bed itself looks rather comfy with bolster pillows on each end and a mound of decorative ones stacked against the back. Cade’s naked torso is propped up by a few pillows, and he’s lying with one leg stretched out while the other one is bent at the knee. Unfortunately, he’s still wearing his pants or the scene would have been perfect. He has one arm crooked at the elbow, resting behind his head. Since it’s summertime, twilight can last for hours at the end of the day instead of mere minutes like it does during the winter. I have to admit that the scene is a quaint picture of seaside tranquility.
Without changing his position, Cade stretches out his arm and holds his hand open to me.
“Come here, Helena,” he beckons, but not in a demanding way. His words aren’t laced with the intent of it being an order. He’s simply making a request for my company.
“I’m not sure there’s enough room for both of us on there,” I tell him as I walk over.
Cade sits up and systematically begins to toss the decorative pillows onto the porch behind the swing. Once I reach him, he scoots over and lies on his side to make room for me.
“There’s plenty of space,” he tells me, grinning as he pats the empty spot beside him as if to prove his point.
“I suppose there is,” I reply, wondering where all of this will lead. Without questioning my good fortune, I sit on the bed and lift my legs to lie down on it with Cade.
As if it were the most natural thing to do, Cade brings me into his arms, allowing me to rest my head against his chest. The warmth of his body next to mine and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes lulls my senses. I begin to feel something that’s a rarity for me. It’s an emotion I’ve only ever felt while inside my own domain: peace. I give myself permission to ride the wave of serenity for as long as it will allow me. I start to understand why people like to be by the ocean so much. If you allow it to, the crashing of the waves against the shore can soothe your senses with their rhythm.
“Sometimes I look at you and I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” I hear him whisper.
I open my eyes, not having realized that I had even closed them, and tilt my head up to look into his face. The passion in his gaze captures me, rendering me speechless. I patiently wait to see where all of this will lead.
“You’re one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen,” he tells me as he tilts his body in such a way that my head slides off his chest to rest against his arm like it’s a pillow. With him completely on his side, he uses the fingers of his free hand to trace the contours of my jawline. When he reaches my chin, he begins to explore the softness of my lips, which part of their own accord in anticipation of what might come next. I glance up to meet his gaze and see the heat of pent-up desire there. It’s a look I feel sure is mirrored in my own eyes.
After gaining their fill of my lips, Cade glides his fingers down the curve at the front of my neck until they arrive at the tender flesh between my breasts exposed by the cut of the shirt’s V-shaped neckline. I hold my breath, excitedly waiting to see if he’s brave enough to study that portion of my body any further. Instead of exploring the contours of my breasts, he leans his head down and gently begins to tease my lips with his own. His kiss is feather-light at first, undemanding and unassuming. I begin to feel an urgency build inside me, silently begging Cade to discover everything I have to offer him even deeper and more thoroughly. When I feel the first flick of his tongue against my upper lip, I sigh in sweet anticipation of what will surely come next. I open my mouth wider, inviting him to delve deeper. Without missing a beat, he gently coaxes my tongue into a playful dance with his own that only excites the growing needs of my body. I immediately feel physical proof against the side of my thigh that his desire is rising in intensity as well.
Cade’s mouth briefly leaves mine as he repositions his body over me. His knees are bent on either side of my body to carry the brunt of his weight. He slides both of his arms underneath my shoulders and cradles my head in his hands as he leans back down to continue his gentle assault of my mouth. By leaning down, his hips brush against my own, and the proof of his desire for me begins to steadily stroke against the most sensitive part of my sex. I have, of course, experimented with self-pleasuring the little nub between my legs, but having Cade rub himself against that sweet spot causes me to lose what little control I have over my body. Without even having to think about it, my pelvis begins to lift slightly off the bed to meet each of his thrusts. I soon discover that the faster I move, the more pleasure I gain, until I feel as though my whole world is splitting in two.
As I float down on a cloud of sexual bliss, Cade’s lips leave mine, forcing me to open my eyes to figure out why he isn’t kissing me anymore.
“What’s wrong?” I ask breathlessly. The movement of his hips ceases, but I still feel the proof of his desire against the juncture of my thighs. “Why are you stopping?”
His eyes seem to search my own for some unknown answer to an unasked question.
“Cade …” I breathe out as a soft plea, lifting my hips slightly to prod him to finish what he’s started. “Don’t stop. Not now.”
His lips stretch into a small grin, but it’s laced with a melancholia I can’t quite understand. He leans his head back down until our foreheads touch and closes his eyes.
“I can’t yet,” he tells me, the words coming out like an apology. “You’re not ready.”
“I seriously beg to differ,” I reply, feeling rather perturbed by his answer. “I’ve been ready since the moment we met.”
With his eyes still closed, Cade grins again. This time it’s a much happier one.
“So you’ve wanted me to do this,” he says, tilting his hips to thrust himself against me once more, “since you first saw me?”
“Of course I have. Haven’t you?”
He lifts his head from mine to capture my gaze with his once more.
“Yes,” he admits. “But the time isn’t right yet, Helena. Like I said, you’re not ready.”
“Then get off me,” I order, roughly pushing him so hard he ends up flying off the bed and onto the planks of the porch. I stand and walk over him to re-enter the house. Once inside, I slam the front door shut behind me and storm into his bedroom, slamming that door too for good measure.
With a growl born of sexual frustration, I begin to angrily toss the decorative pillows on his bed onto the floor before crawling underneath the covers.
“Why is he so stupid?” I ask the empty room, punching the one pillow I left on the bed to rest my head on. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I rant, punctuating each word with a strike of my fist into the pillow.
I’m not sure how long I toss and turn in bed—at least an hour or more. I eventually calm down and decide to raid Cade’s kitchen to search for something to eat. When I venture outside the room, I find him sitting shirtless in one of the chairs at the kitchen island. He hears me come out of the room and turns slightly to look in my direction.
