by Sienna Blake
The waitress arrives at this very moment, breaking the tension. She places two black napkins down in front of us before adding drinks. “Your scotch, sir. And your Shirley Temple, madam.”
My drink is tall and orange and filled with ice. I play with the straw and take a sip just to be polite. I frown when I detect something missing.
“I noticed that you don’t like to drink,” he says, noting my reaction. “So I ordered you a virgin cocktail. I hope you don’t mind.”
A strange feeling starts to invade me. He knows where I live, he knows what size dress I wear, he knows I don’t drink. It has been a while since another man has known anything personal about me. It’s been a long time since any man has cared to know.
“You know so much about me already,” I say, “but I don’t even know your name.”
“Caden. Caden Thaine. Some people like to call me Cade.”
Caden Thaine. I roll these words silently around my head. They fit him. Like that jacket fits him and those pants fit him. And that knowing twist to his lips fits him. Fuck. Even the scar across his eyebrow fits him.
Caden Thaine.
“Okay, Cade.” I’m thrilled at the sound of his name coming off my lips. I love how my tongue has to flick up at the roof of my mouth when I say it. Even that little movement is sexy. “Who are you? And what do you want?”
He smiles but there’s a glint in his eyes like the edge of a blade. “Be careful what you ask me. You may not like the answer.”
He is baiting me. I’m not biting. “You don’t scare me.”
“Maybe I should.”
I watch him. Despite how brutal he looks even smarted out in this suit, I still can’t help the feeling of safety I get around him. It makes my panic about the dress earlier seem silly. “No,” it comes out before I can stop myself, “I’ve known bad men, truly bad men. You’re not one of them.”
“No?” I see a flicker of something behind his intensity as he searches my face. I see… hope.
“No,” I say softly. “You don’t feel like one of them. You think you’re bad. Maybe you’ve done bad things. But you’re not. Not really.” The words he used against me the other night come to my mind. “You may think you’re beyond redemption, but… you’re not. You just need someone to remind you.”
I catch the surprise washing over his face. For a moment I can imagine him as a boy, scarless and vulnerable and carefree, before whatever happened to make him the jaded man he is now. His face changes as the doubt draws back over him like a tide that can’t be held back. He leans back again, looking uncomfortable.
“Touché,” he says softly. He scoops up his scotch and tilts back the whole shot in one gulp. When he lowers his glass the mask is back on his face. I feel the distance between us again. For one moment we were just two people being real. I feel like I have lost sight of something precious, and the disappointment this brings me makes it hard to continue looking at him. I turn my head to gaze out at the glittering view from the window.
This bar is on the very top floor of the Hotel deCrystal, which sits like a gem in the center of a city that stretches out across the darkened landscape of the night. Below us is a fairground of twinkling, moving, whirling lights. A pretty circus that I can never truly be a part of.
I feel a sudden rush of sadness when I remember that I’m here with Caden only for tonight. One date is all I can afford to have with him. One date, one night of passion. That is all. I can never be a part of anything significant. I can never be a part of anything real or lasting. Not anymore.
It doesn’t matter that we’re having the most intimate conversation that I have had in years. It doesn’t matter that I already feel oddly close to Caden. I can’t keep seeing him. Caden Thaine, regardless of how patient he is, will eventually want to get closer to me. He will eventually want to know about me, who I am, where I came from. I can’t let him. I can’t get close to someone without revealing the things that need to be kept buried.
“You look sad, kitten.”
I turn to him, a little startled. I didn’t think my thoughts had been playing across my face. I always take such great pains to hide what I’m feeling that it has become second nature. I don’t know whether I have already started dropping my guard around Cade or whether he can just read me. Either situation is just too risky.
“I can’t see you again after tonight.”
“Oh? Are you going somewhere?”
Not yet.
I shake my head. “No. I just can’t do…” my fingers flutter between us as if I am trying to capture the right words to say from the air. But the right words are like disobedient butterflies and won’t be corralled. “…this,” I finish lamely.
A knowing look softens his features and Caden catches my hand in his. His thumb brushes along my fingers. I marvel at how gentle he can be with those large, brutal-looking hands.
“You are not a conventional woman, I know that. But I’m not a conventional man. We both have parts of ourselves that we can’t share. This is why we fit each other. We are cut from the same cloth. Why can’t we design our own version of together?”
Our own version of together.
My heart feels like it’s already filling with the hope that the thought of together brings. Is it wise for me to hope?
“What does that mean? Our own version of together?”
“It means whatever we want it to mean. You would never have to tell me anything you didn’t want to and neither would I. We wouldn’t have to involve ourselves in each other’s lives, we could just be together when we were together. Things could be simple. Our own version of togetherness.”
God, it sounds like heaven. It sounds like he isn’t asking for anything more than what little I have to offer. Because I am broken.
I realize that maybe Caden is broken, too. Maybe we really could carve out our own version of togetherness?
I can’t entertain this thought for another moment. Whatever we could have, no matter how perfect the arrangement, one day I would have to leave and it would have to end. I’m about to refuse him, but…
“Aren’t you tired of being alone?” I can hear the whisper of a deep and hungry pain in his voice. “I am.”
His words stab me so violently through the heart that I swear it stops for a second.
I am.
I am tired. So tired.
It hurts me to think that this beautiful man could feel so alone, too. Maybe we could be less lonely together?
“Would you start something,” I say, “even if you knew it would eventually have to end?”
“Everything ends. Relationships, love, life itself… But you don’t stop living because you know you will die one day, you live because you know you will. Or, at least, you try.”
For a few seconds we just sit, basking in each other’s gazes. Even though the stare is intense it sits like a well-worn coat, warm and comfortable. I feel like he just understands me.
“You don’t stop living because you know you will die one day, you live because you know you will.” I stopped living some time ago.
I want to live.
After the date Caden insists on walking me home. He winds my arm through his and leads me through the streets of the city. We are both quiet on the way, but it isn’t an uncomfortable quietness. It’s the soft, soothing quiet of lolling waves, a rocking hammock, our own version of togetherness. I find a smile playing upon my lips. Fancy that. Who knew I could still smile?
When we get to my building I unlock the lobby door. He holds it open for me and lets me check my mailbox before leading me upstairs. Déjà vu. My heart is beating hard in my chest when we reach my apartment door. I turn and he’s closer than I thought he would be. I have to lean back against my door to look up to him.
My heart rams up into my throat as he leans into me. His giant body crushes me against the door and his hardness presses against me. His fingers trace up my body and close around my hair pulling my head aside to expose my neck. His teeth close gently arou
nd my flesh and he sucks...
I blink. I haven’t moved. Neither has he.
God dammit.
“I suppose you want to come in?” I say trying to keep the shake out of my voice.
He smiles. “No.”
I blink at him, stunned. No?
He leans close to me, so close I can make out the dapple of the lighter jade in his irises. In that dark chocolate voice that turns my insides out, he says, “You don’t believe this yet. But you are a woman who deserves to be seduced slowly. I intend to do just that.”
I can’t move.
I can’t tear my eyes from him.
And I’m both terrified and soaring because I think he might kiss me.
I close my eyes and inhale as he leans in. My mouth parts…
His lips brush my cheek like a single drop of rain rolling off a leaf.
“Be good, kitten.”
He walks away, leaving me stunned and confused and shaking in my heels from unfulfilled desire. At my feet is the bag containing the green dress.
I find Caden’s second note my bag. I don’t know how it got there. All I know is the note wasn’t there at the beginning of the day. When I get home, it is.
I rack my brain over when it could have happened. Maybe at the coffee shop where I stopped on my way to work. Maybe the grocery store where I bought my food. Hell, he could have slipped it into my bag while I was standing at the lights, his hands so close he could have touched me, his nose so close he could have smelled me.
I know I should be terrified that Caden knew where to find me today. Instead, like an idiot, it thrills me. The thought that he had at some time been close enough to touch me without my knowing makes me dizzy. Even now, I imagine that he is watching me like an angel protector.
Cherry Farm Park, Thursday, 3pm.
Cherry Farm Park sits in a pocket of this city’s river. It’s mostly green space but dotted here and there with small well-tended patches of flowers and oak trees. Caden is already standing at the arched entrance when I arrive five minutes early. He’s dressed in dark distressed denim and a plain black shirt. Over his arm he carries the same brown leather jacket he wore the first night we met.
I see his look of appreciation sweep over my skinny jeans and black silky top tied at the back of the neck with a bow. I hold my own tan leather jacket over my arm. When we walk together he takes my hand and I realize we look like one of those couples that have been together so long they dress alike. Black, denim and brown leather.
“I don’t have much time today,” he says, “but I thought we could get an ice cream cone each and walk along the river. Is that okay?”
I nod with enthusiasm. “I haven’t had an ice cream cone in years.”
He pulls me towards the small ice cream stand by the entrance. We stand behind a mother with her three kids who take their time ordering. I stare at the stainless steel tubs filled with all different flavors.
“Shall we play a game?” I say with a grin. For some reason I feel childish. Giddy like I’ve just gotten off a merry-go-round.
He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe. What’s the game?”
“I get to choose your ice cream and you choose mine. Then we have to explain why.”
He smiles wide. “This will be interesting.”
We reach the front of the line and I point to the tub filled with pale green ice cream, thick with nutty pieces. “Could he have the pistachio, please?” I glance over at Cade.
He’s looking at me with amused curiosity. He looks only at me, even as the girl behind the counter scoops up the ice cream and hands it to him. He glances at the alien-looking scoop then raises an eyebrow at me.
I smile internally. He can just wonder a little longer.
I look back at the flavors under the glass and try to guess what he will pick. Maybe the Grand Marnier, bold yet sophisticated, or the Tia Maria, sultry and sexy?
I can’t help but pout a little when he says, “Dark chocolate for her, please.”
I take the cone and thank the girl while he pays.
He takes me to one of the large benches that looks out onto the river. I sit on one side of the bench then he sits flush against my side. My breath hitches when his leg comes into contact with mine. I swear he does it on purpose. My fingers itch to dig into those thick muscles of his and to run my nails up the insides of his thighs up towards where his jeans are straining from his…
“So, pistachio?” he asks.
I blink and clear my throat. I hope I wasn’t licking my lips when I was staring at his pants. “Because it’s like you.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s rough with hard pieces all the way through it, but there is just enough sweetness underneath to balance it. And, well, it’s totally nuts.”
He laughs, loud and unrestrained. “I like how you see me.”
I shrug, but inside I’m pleased at his reaction. “Why dark chocolate? It seems pretty plain to me.”
“Dark chocolate is always underestimated because it appears to be plain, but it’s rich and complex and a mixture of dark and sweet. Which is why it takes a certain palate to be able to fully appreciate it.”
This is how he sees me. I like it. I really like it.
His intense gaze unhinges me. It’s his next words that have my heart lurching. “But most of all, it’s my favorite flavor, and I’ve decided it’s the only one I will have.”
One corner of his mouth pulls up. He grabs my wrist and pulls my ice cream to his face. He takes a languid lick. At the taste he moans under his breath. He sticks his tongue out again, wide and flat, for another lick. This time his wet tongue feels like it drags across me, sending a rush of electricity through my body, my nipples pressing to attention.
He lets go of my hand holding my ice-cream cone, watching me carefully. I can still feel his fingers on me. I can feel that I’m wet, as if his tongue really had been there.
I face forward and focus on my ice cream before I moan or blurt out something stupid and make a fool out of myself. Dear God. I won’t ever look at dark chocolate ice cream the same again.
Inside I’m a jumble of awareness. I can sense him watching me as I lick shyly at my ice cream. I can feel the thickness and strength in his thigh pressed against mine, the brush of his arm against my shoulder as he eats his. I can sense the way he just owns this bench and this space and the air that I breathe.
The lapping of the river against the bank and the rustle of wind through leaves fades under the noise of his tongue and his little grunts of pleasure. I want to be the cause of all those noises. His tongue sucking and licking against my…
I’m getting carried away again. My cheeks heat and I press my thighs together and try not to let it show. I hear him crunching at the end of his cone. His ice cream is devoured before I have barely licked mine.
“Delicious,” I hear him say.
I force myself not to look at him even though my skin is pricked with the awareness of his eyes on my face. He murmurs something under his breath.
“What was that?”
He leans in so his chest is pressing against my shoulder, causing my eyes to flick to him.
“You have some ice cream here.” He extends his tongue out and licks a line from my jaw up past the corner of my mouth. Oh God. My insides turn to jelly and my breaths go shallow.
I turn my head so that my mouth lines up with his and opens slightly, a plea for him to do it again, this time across my lips. He doesn’t. He moves aside and places another languid lap along the other corner of my mouth.
“And here.” His teeth nip along my jaw, sharp, with enough pressure for me to feel it sending bolts of electricity through me, but not enough to really hurt. His hand drags across my thigh until his fingers grip firmly underneath it, and he pulls me closer to him. The edge of his palm is so achingly close but not touching the upper seam of my jeans. His nearness warms me like fire and I want to be burned alive.
“And here.” He takes my earlobe into his mouth and he sucks g
ently. If there isn’t a part of my skin that hasn’t erupted in goose bumps, it does so now. Oh, sweet Jesus. He pushes his nose into my hair and groans. “You smell good enough to eat.” His tongue traces around the shell of my ear.
I forget that we’re in a public place. I push my hips forward until his hand connects with the most sensitive part of me and a gasp falls from my lips. I clench my thighs and rock my hips against his hand. My body is thunder and lightning as the first moan escapes my throat.
Without warning, he snatches his hand away and pulls his lips off my skin. My eyes flash at him in shock. His face looks passive, but I can tell his breathing is unsteady.
“You dropped your ice cream,” he says.
I blink, then stare at my hand still hovering in the air, then at the cone that has fallen to the ground from my limp fingers. I frown as the rejection turns to anger.
“What game are you playing?”
He doesn’t react. I bristle even further. I stand with the intention to storm away from him, but he grabs my body with both hands and pulls me onto his lap. God damn, this man is fast. With the speed at which he clasped me he should have crushed me, or at least hurt me a little. But he didn’t. Fast. And strong. Yet incredibly controlled. I shiver.
He leans in as he brushes his thumb roughly against my bottom lip, his eyes glued to my mouth. “Not yet.” He sounds like he’s in pain.
I can’t help myself. I press my open mouth against his thumb and lick him, getting my first taste of him. His skin tastes of the ocean and pistachios. Suddenly I’m hungrier than I’ve even been before and all that will sate me is him, his skin, his body underneath my lips and my tongue.
I see the flash of heat across his eyes before it disappears behind his carefully controlled façade. My stomach sinks. “Not yet.” Even though he wants me, I know he won’t let me have him until he decides it’s time. He is too much in control. Even more than me. Damn him.
“Why not?” I ask, trying to keep the sulk out of my voice but failing. “I know you want me.”
