by Sienna Blake
My heart hurts for Caden. I know what it’s like to be branded like an animal, like a piece of property. Like something with no soul. I remember the bitterness of humiliation rising to my throat.
I tear my eyes away from the brand to look up at him. I sense he’s waiting for my reaction.
“I don’t care if you have a hundred scars,” I say, “You’d still be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
I step towards him. He flinches and takes a step back as if he is a foal backing away from a wild animal. God… he’s almost scared of me.
I wonder if Caden has allowed anyone to touch him since then. My heart weeps at the thought. Everybody needs to be touched, to be loved, cared for.
He’s ashamed of his body. Yes, I can see the way his chin ducks down as he tries to avoid my eyes as I stare back at him. He thinks I may not want him now that I know this… now that I’ve seen him.
I need to take this slowly. Like he did with me. I walk towards the far side of the bed. At its side I slip off my shoes.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice laced with suspicion.
“Will you lie down with me? Just lie down. Nothing else.”
I lay down, facing his side of the mattress. “You don’t have to touch me if you don’t want to. Just lie with me, here.” I wipe my palm along the space on the mattress in front of me. “Please.”
He moves slowly, unsurely at first, walking towards the edge of the bed. His fingers flinch and I see his shoulders aching to curve in. I know he wants to hide himself. He turns and sits on the bed, his palms pressing flat against the sheets, like he could push away at any moment. I know he could. I can see from the pinch of his eyebrows that he’s on the verge of bolting. So I don’t dare move. I barely breathe as I wait.
He shifts, pulling his legs up onto the bed, and lies down. Slowly, he rolls aside to face me. We lay, not touching, and I realize we’re facing each other like this for the first time.
In the movies those big moments are always punctuated with crescendoing drums and swelling violins. Not this. Not here. This silence contains a bigger moment than appearances allow. This is the moment when I realize there is nothing between us. No shield to hide behind, no secrets, no wall to climb. I see him. And he sees me.
I can’t help but blink back tears.
“Why are you crying? Are you sad?” He frowns as he reaches out to wipe the side of my nose with his finger where a stray tear has fallen and betrayed me.
“No, I’m not sad. I’m… happy.”
“You’re crying because you’re happy?”
I nod.
He smiles. “You’re weird,” he says softly.
“Gee, thanks.”
He nods. Then he shrugs. “I’m weird too.”
“You are.”
“It’s nice to have someone to be weird in front of.”
Yes. Yes, it is. And we lay just looking at each other, breathing each other’s breath, our fingers tangled up in each other. Until we both drift off to sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The next morning I slowly wake. As I drift into consciousness my body gathers weight onto the soft sheets of this empty bed. My awareness moves out beyond my skin and to the sound of my breathing and to the unsettling sensation of being watched.
My eyes fly open.
It’s not an empty bed. Caden is lying in front of me on his side, his head propped up by his hand, his eyes studying my face. He’s still shirtless but sometime during the night he placed his bandage back on.
A sudden burst of happiness warms my chest. And it bursts from my face in a smile. I hide behind my hands.
“What are you doing?” Caden sounds amused and he reaches over with one hand to gently pry a finger away from one eye.
“Um, hiding?”
He snorts. “Why?”
“Because…” I pull away and cover my eye again. “I’m not used to you still being here when I wake up. I’ve never had to worry about my hair in the morning or how crappy my breath is.”
“Hmmm, these are very serious conditions indeed.”
“Shut up.”
“What? I’m trying to be sympathetic.”
“You’re trying to make fun of me.”
I sneak a look at him through my fingers. He’s grinning. “Maybe a little.”
He pushes his foot between my knees and hooks his legs around mine like a vine, pulling my bottom half towards him. I let out a squeal. He’s suddenly a lot closer than he was before. Our legs are tangled and our hips are almost touching.
“Come out, come out wherever you are?” he whispers against my hands, making them tickle.
I almost can’t stand this. It feels so real and yet I can’t believe that it is. Caden and I here in his bed, almost normal. I bury myself further in my hands.
“Come on, kitten. I have bad hair and bad breath, too. We can be grubs together.”
He still thinks I’m hiding because of vanity.
His nose nuzzles at my fingers as he presses kisses to them and gives me friendly nips in an attempt to ease them apart. Slowly, I pull them from my face. I’m rewarded with a smile that could light up a city.
I scrunch my face up. “You’re right.”
“What?” he asks.
“Your breath does stink.”
I am pummeled by a pillow. I laugh as I shield myself.
“I have to get up,” he says. “I have to clean this cut.”
“Do you want help?”
He frowns and looks uncertain.
“I was training to be a nurse, remember?”
“You want to… help clean it?” I realize what he’s really asking. Do I actually want to touch his scars?
“I promise I’ll be gentle.” I grab his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles. “Trust me, Cade.”
Finally he nods.
Caden follows me into his ensuite bathroom and sits on the edge of his massive bathtub. I fill up a bowl full of warm water and get out a fresh face towel from the linen cupboard. I pull out the antiseptic cream and the bandages from the first aid kit. I wash my hands.
I turn to Caden. “Let’s get this old bandage off you.” I gently pull the sticky tape off. Underneath, the wound is red but it’s healing. I let my eyes linger over the scarring shaped like the Tyrell’s crest. The scarring is raised and white and the edges have blurred, but I can still see the crest there. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. It must have been so painful. My stomach turns at the thought. I turn away before the sorrow shows on my face and dip the cloth into the warm water.
Caden grabs my elbow forcing me to look at him. “Are you okay?”
I force a smile. “Of course.”
His face sinks and I see a flash of anger across his eyes. “You’re lying to me. I disgust you, don’t I?”
I drop the cloth into the bowl and pivot towards him. “Oh Caden. No. I just…” I move towards him, stepping between his knees so I can hold his face. “It hurts me to know what he did to you. I’m disgusted at Jacob. Not you. Never you. Understand?”
I kiss him softly when I see that he believes me.
I lean back to grab the cloth and squeeze out the excess water. Then I turn back to face him. He’s watching me but I’m not sure what he’s feeling. His eyes are guarded.
I touch the edge of the cloth gently to the edge of the wound. I continue to press the cloth down the length of the wound, occasionally turning to dip the cloth in the water again and squeeze it out.
As I clean his wound my eyes stop focusing on the scarring. My vision widens to take in all of him, my wounded warrior, sitting just in drawstring pants on the edge of the tub. At this height I’m almost eye to eye with him. I can feel his breath blowing out against my hair as I lean in. This is the first time we have been this close like this. I realize with a start that I’m touching him. Well, not quite touching him. We are separated by a warm cloth, but I can still feel the hardness of his chest muscles through it. I revel i
n the feeling of him.
All too soon, his wound is clean. But I don’t want to stop moving my fingers over him. Not yet. I’m not giving up this excuse to be near him just yet. So I start to move the cloth around the edges of the wound first. When he doesn’t move to stop me, I give up the pretense of washing his wound. I drag the cloth across the plain of his chest enjoying in every second of it.
His eyes flutter shut when I run the cloth over his nipple. His breathing deepens. And his hands come up from his knees to hold the backs of my thighs. Even through the jeans material, his touch sends warmth through my body and my knees go all weak. I place my free hand on his shoulder to steady myself.
He keeps his eyes shut and makes a noise in his throat. Then swallows hard. I realize, I’m the first woman to touch him since…
Everything else falls away as my entire being centers around this man and his body. I run my hand up over his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the tight cords and breath-stealing curve of his muscles, all the way down to his thick forearm and his strong wrist. His skin feels hot even through the washcloth and the warmth rushes up my arm and through my body and back like an infinite cycle. I move my hand back up his arm, slowly, taking in the feel of his absolute strength. There is such power in his arm. Such strength. And the promise of safety. My lower belly clenches hard and hot. He’s my protector.
I drag the cloth back across his chest, making sure I run across his hardened nipple again. This time a groan tears from his throat. He closes his thighs around the sides of my legs and his fingers push into my flesh. My core is burning and I’m so damn wet. He isn’t unaffected either. When I look down between us I can see he’s hard under his pants, the bulge evident.
“I should… I should bandage you up now.” My voice is all low and husky, even without my meaning for it to be.
His eyes open and they find mine. I can’t help but notice that our chests are moving in and out at the same hurried speed.
“You need to let me go, Cade.” My voice is barely a whisper. My desire for him is gripping me around my chest and my heart and my throat. But I can’t give in to it yet. I need to make sure his wound is covered.
Slowly, he releases me, his legs moving apart from either side of me and his fingers peeling off my thighs. It aches as he lets go. But I force myself to turn away. I drop the cloth in water and pick up the antiseptic cream before I return to my spot between his thighs. “This might sting a little.”
I start to dab the cream into his wound as softly as I can. He doesn’t flinch or hiss even though I know it must sting. My chest warms a little with pride. My tough, strong Caden.
I can feel his eyes are roaming across my body, over the plain t-shirt and jeans. It isn’t a sexy outfit, chosen for its practicality, not like the dresses he likes me to wear, but he makes me feel like it’s as sexy as any one of those dresses he buys for me. My core burns like it’s on fire.
I finish with the cream and I force myself to wash my hands again and to prepare the bandage, a white rectangle of gauzy cloth. I press the edges of the bandage around his wound. The tips of my fingers touch his warm, smooth skin as I rub along the sticky tape, making sure it stays down. A fire rushes through me and I don’t want to stop. It’s my first real touch of him.
I glance at his face. His eyes are expectant and he doesn’t look like he’s about to pull away. He looks like he wants more. I trace the tips of my fingers away from the edge of the bandage, across his skin, over his sternum. There’s a dusting of dark hair here, but where he’s scarred the hair doesn’t grow. I reach a scar, the skin going from smooth to rough. My fingers reach one side of the shield that runs down across part of his right pec. I check his face again. His eyes are closed and the tension is thick in his shoulders and arms as he bunches his hands into fists on his knees. I trace the scar down to the bottom point of the shield at the top of his abs, feeling every inch of knitted skin under my fingers.
He shudders. It startles me and my fingers flinch back. His eyes open and he looks pained.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Did I hurt you?” I know I can’t have hurt him physically. The scars are old and they may be more sensitive than normal skin, but they won’t hurt. But perhaps I hurt him psychologically by touching them?
He shakes his head.
Perhaps this is all too much for him. Perhaps I should stop. I ignore my need to touch him some more and turn away. I’m not so selfish.
“Please keep going,” he whispers. The pleading in his voice is clear.
I turn back to him and try not to seem so eager. I feel like I have to be careful with him. I have to take things slowly, like he did for me. Step by step.
I lift my hands but I don’t place them on his chest. I touch the tips of my fingers to his face as I gaze at him. I trace the width of his forehead, down his thick cheekbones and along his wide jaw, now rough with stubble.
“I’m sorry, I’m all rough,” he says.
“I like it.”
“Really?”
I nod. I do. The stubble darkens his face even more and highlights his jaw and makes him look all the more deadly. His sea green eyes look deeper and clearer than ever. I brush his thick hair back, letting it tangle through my fingers as I scratch my nails over his scalp. He moans and whispers my name.
My real name.
The sound of his voice rolling across my name sends a rush of wetness between my thighs. No one has called me that in such a long time. Somehow I feel real again. I feel found again. He found me. And he helped me find myself.
I let my hands fall down the back of his neck, then I run them over his shoulders. They are like armor, thick and full under my palms. I trace my hands across his collarbones and pause. I have waited for this for so long. And now I’m here, presented with everything that I’ve ever wanted from him…
I run my hands over his chest, careful not to touch his bandage. I press my fingers along his scars, tracing the lines of them across his chest and running my fingertips across his right nipple. It hardens instantly. My breathing goes unsteady, as if I’m the one being touched. His chest is so wide and hard and so damn masculine. The feel of his skin, the contrast between the texture of his smooth skin and his textured scarring, all of this sends a rush of lightness to my brain. He lets out a shaky breath. Good to know I’m not the only one coming apart here.
I touch lower, feeling the skin across his stomach. Good God. The abs on this man. My whole body sways every time my fingers dip and rise over the bulges of his muscles. I stop just at the edge of his pants where I can see the start of a dark line of hair disappearing into the seam. I run my hand across his lower belly. I want to push off his pants but… will it be too much? Is this too fast?
I toy with the top of his pants then slip my fingertips just inside the hem. I pause. “Is this okay?”
He nods. Okay then. Slowly I push his pants down. I can see his beautiful V muscles start to converge towards that sacred place at the top of his legs. He lifts his ass off the edge of the tub as an invitation to pull them all the way down. I do.
His erection springs free from the pants as I pull them off his legs. He is glorious and thick and nestled in a trimmed patch of dark hair. His strong thigh muscles flex as he lowers himself back to the edge of the tub. All I can think as I stare at him is how he feels when he fills me up. I burn all the more.
I grin.
“What?”
“This time you’re the one who’s naked and I’m the one who’s clothed.”
He laughs. “I’m very okay if you want to swap.”
I step between his knees, pushing them apart. “No, this is good.” I slide my hands around his neck and lower my mouth onto his. I lick and suckle at his bottom lip. I curl the tip of my tongue up to run along his top lip. They part for me with a moan and I push my tongue into his mouth. As we kiss, deep and slow, his arms encase me and pull me flush against him.
My fingers, now having touched him, can’t stop. They move down his chest agai
n and slide down his sides. I feel him shudder under my hands. An overwhelming feeling of control drips down my spine. My hands move lower until they find his hardness caught between our bodies. I gasp at the touch and he moans. I start to run my hands up and down his shaft, slowly at first, sometimes twisting one of my palms over his head. His mouth stills against mine as I start to pump my hands faster.
“Caden,” I say against his lips.
“Huh?”
“You stopped kissing me.”
“Oh.” His lips move over mine for a second before he groans and they still again.
“You seem distracted.”
“Hmm.”
“I have something important to say and you don’t seem like you’re listening.”
“Hmm.”
“I really, really, desperately want to lower myself down onto your cock.”
“Oh shit yes.” That got his attention. He reaches up for my shirt and I playfully bat his hands away.
“But first…” I pull away. He growls unhappily and grabs for me, but I hold him at arm’s length.
A smile comes to my lips. I lower myself to my knees before him. I can smell his arousal from here, masculine and musky. My hands start at his knees and run all the way up his powerful thighs.
He grabs at my face as I reach for him, my lips already parting. “Kitten, you don’t have to.”
“Please,” I say. “I want to. I want to know what you taste like. I want to know what you feel like.”
I do. I want these intimacies. I want them so bad it hurts.
He nods and lets me move closer to him as I stroke my hands up his thighs. I trace across the patch of dark hair and tease him by running my hands up his stomach instead of between his legs.
He lets out a small laugh.
“What?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to get me back for teasing you the way I do?”
