Sweetness (The Sweetest Thing #1)

by Sierra Hill

  “Perhaps a certain nursing student has caught your eye?” He says it quietly and low enough for only me to hear. “I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to visit more often. She is a cute little thing.”

  “Whoa, old man. Sounds like if I do, I might have some competition.” I chuckle, wondering if he caught me giving her furtive glances. Because honestly, I can’t keep my eyes off her. “I’m all good in that department, though. Plus, I’ve got too many other things to focus on right now. Don’t have room for any cute things right now.”

  Admittedly, getting laid sometime soon might not be such a bad idea. It has been over two weeks and I am ready to bust a nut. But I’m not in the market for a relationship. And Ainsley, as far as I can assess, is not interested in me in any capacity.

  “I gotta take off now, Gramps. Got practice in an hour and need to grab something to eat before I head over to campus. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  “Goodbye, Kincaid. Thanks for the visit.”

  Feeling a bit awkward and uncertain about how to say goodbye, I ruffle the soft white mop of hair on top of his head and head toward the door. As soon as I reach it, I realize I need a code to open it.

  Just as I turn around in search of someone to let me out, Ainsley rounds the corner, a messenger bag strapped across her chest. My eyes immediately gravitate toward her tits, which are accentuated from the binding of the straps pressed into the center between her breasts. I swallow hard, lifting my gaze to her bright sapphire eyes, which are wide in surprise.

  I have plenty of one-liners I could put to good use in this moment as I’m caught checking out Ainsley’s chest. But none of them come to mind. I just stand here stupidly. Her gaze lassoes me in, and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, my arms bolted to my sides.

  “Trying to make your escape?” She quips.

  She gracefully moves around me and enters the code on the alarm pad as I catch a whiff of her sweet orange blossom scent. Not overpowering, and with a hint of something I can’t put a finger on. It it’s soft and fragrant and sends a zap of interest to my dick. I can’t help myself as my gaze travels down her backside. The scrubs she’d been wearing earlier during her shift have been replaced with a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a fitted blue and white striped T-shirt. As she bends over the keypad, the shirt rises an inch, exposing the small of her back.

  I have to step back and will my hands to remain at my sides. Otherwise, I’m liable to let my desire get away from me and I’ll reach out to touch her. To slide my fingers underneath the hem of that T-shirt, around her waist, to the front of those shorts where my hand can tease the soft flesh above her pelvic bone.

  My lips press in a tight line. I probably look like a crazed lunatic, because she turns around with a confused visage, her eyes narrowed at me.

  “I was just kidding,” she said, the sound of her voice changing from sarcasm to sympathy. She opens the door and takes the first step out into the oppressively hot front porch. “And I just want to tell you that you made your grandfather a very happy man today. That was really sweet of you to visit.”

  I am once again mesmerized by the sight of her hands as they wrap around the fiber strap of her bag. Those fingers are touching the cotton material of her T-shirt in the center of her cleavage. My dick gets hard, envisioning those hands doing the same thing to me and wrapping around my shaft. Stroking me hard.

  Fuck, I need to get out of here.

  I jerk in forward motion, my momentum accidentally butting against her shoulder as I brusquely step around her to head down the pathway to my car. As I open my car door, I glance across the roof of my car to find a shell shocked Ainsley.

  I suppose I was a little abrupt, but damn, I can’t trust myself to stand that close to her without losing my shit. And by that, I mean taking her by her shoulders, pressing her up against the side of the house and kissing her hard. Until we both can’t breathe.

  Instead, I snap out a curt goodbye and slide on my sunglasses. “I’ll see you around, Ainsley.”

  My car engine starts with a low, tiger-like purr. It’s a blue 228i BMW coupe. My dad bought it for me out of guilt two years ago when he and my mom announced they were divorcing. While I was pissed as hell at him, I gladly accepted the car, because what guy my age wouldn’t?

  This car has gotten me a lot of action. But it doesn’t mean I forgive him. He’s a bastard for leaving my mom. After twenty-three years of marriage and three kids, he just decides he doesn’t love her any more. Fucker. While it was never truly clear why they separated, my gut says my dad screwed around on her. Cliché, no doubt. Since then, though, I know he’s dated other women (I hear this from my sisters), but hasn’t settled down with any one girlfriend. Which was fine by me. I don’t need a twenty-four-year-old stepmom any time soon.

  All relationships seem doomed, in my opinion. Why tie yourself down to one person for the rest of your life? It’s seems like a recipe for disaster and eventual heartbreak. Though some of my teammates have girlfriends and seem to be okay. Like Van. I think he’s been with the same girl since high school and they have a long-distance thing going on. That’s just crazy to me, locking yourself down when you’re in the prime of your life.

  My thoughts on the subject evaporate as I lift my gaze from the steering wheel and watch Ainsley walk away down the street. At first, I’m not sure where she’s going and why she doesn’t have a car parked nearby. It’s hotter than hell out here. August in Phoenix is a fucking oven and you don’t want to be outside for more than a few minutes at a time.

  I watch her turn the corner before I pull out of the driveway and slowly cruise down the street in the direction she walked. The nursing home is in a fairly quiet neighborhood, but a few blocks away is a main arterial that connects with all the major highways in the Tempe area.

  I pull up to a red light and look down the street to the left. When I don’t immediately see her, I turn to my right. There a few yards down the street is a bus stop, where several thug-looking dudes wearing black bandanas are clearly expressing their interest in the hot chick standing in their midst.

  Ainsley.

  Fuck that shit. Flipping on my blinker, I pull up next to the bus stop and roll down my passenger window. The guys stop their jawboning at the clearly disinterested Ainsley and glare at me. I’m not about to start anything with these guys. They could be packing. But I’m not about to let Ainsley stay out here by herself.

  She has a pair of earbuds in her ear with her head buried in a book, her body language telling everyone in her vicinity to go the fuck away. I lay on the horn to get her to look up.

  When she does, her eyes grow wide. Curious. Cautious.

  I smile, liking how it makes me feel to know I’ve just scored her interest where the douchewads standing next to her couldn’t even earn an eyebrow raise. Ainsley doesn’t immediately move, though. She just stands there, her expression now one of growing wariness, like I’ve just interrupted something very important and she doesn’t have time for my shit.

  Huh. Wasn’t expecting that.

  Brushing off her impatience, I give her my best, most practiced panty-dropping grin and crook my finger. Her feet remain planted firmly until one of the thugs behind her says something I can’t hear. Her body visibly stiffens and then she’s stepping toward my car, bending down into the open window. The scent of orange blossom wafts through the front seat, filling my vehicle with the sensual fragrance that’s all Ainsley. And it makes me hornier than fuck.

  She’s impatient when she speaks. “Yeah? What do you want, Cade?”

  Impatient or not, I’m liking where things are headed right now. I’m counting my lucky stars for giving me this opportunity.

  “Hop in,” I demand softly. “I’ll take you wherever you’re headed.”

  Sucking in a breath, her face contorts like I’m causing her a considerable amount of discomfort. Or maybe it’s the guys behind her, because they’re getting louder, and I think they just said something about her joining them in a t
hreesome. Her hand grips the door frame tight and then she sighs. Loudly. Apparently I’m the lesser of two evils, because she’s made her decision. And my ride it is. Triumph whips through my body, as if I’ve just made the buzzer-beating shot in the championship game.

  And I’m thrilled, because I wasn’t about to beg this girl to get in my car. That’s not how it works. Usually my crooked finger and my charming smirk can have a chick in the backseat of my car without breaking a sweat. But Ainsley is clearly resistant to my charms. And I have no idea why.

  She settles herself in the passenger seat, setting her book bag on the floor between her Sketcher-clad feet. The jean shorts she wears inch their way up her supple thighs, which aren’t as tan as most of the college girls I know. But the creaminess of her skin make my balls ache with want. My fingers twitch to skim the silkiness laid out before me.

  As if she can read my thoughts, she drops her hands to the tops of her thighs, clasping her fingers together in prayer position. I hope she’s saying a prayer for me. God give me strength…and all that.

  She shifts under the weight of my stare and her impatient tone jerks me out of my reverie. “You said you’d give me a ride…now drive. I’ve got places to be.”

  “Yes, of course. At your service, Ms. Locker. Where am I taking you?”

  I pull out into the road and wait for her directions.

  “I’m going to campus. You can drop me near Memorial Union. I’ve got to grab something to eat before my class.”

  “Cool,” I say and shrug noncommittally as I merge onto the 202. We drive a little while as an awkward silence descends over us. Ainsley is obviously trying to tune me out by typing away on her phone and I’m playing with the satellite radio like a nervous idiot. When I finally land on an old Beastie Boys tune, I turn it down a notch and quietly rap along to the lyrics. Not more than thirty seconds and I feel her gaze on me. I turn my head to find her head cocked to the side with an amused smirk on her face.

  She snickers and shakes her head. “You’re such a white guy.”

  “What? The Beasties are classic. Or would you rather I be rapping along with In Her Mouth?”

  I knew I’d get a reaction out of that one. She throws out a disgusted expression, her lips tilted up in displeasure over Future’s rap song, which is pretty raunchy. Now I’m worried that I may have just offended her. Because honestly, that is a pretty offensive tune. I’ve heard them play it a few times in the gym and at my frat at parties.

  My eyes are back on the road when I hear her snicker. Deciding to be a gentleman, I offer up the song selection to her.

  “Is there another station you’d prefer to listen to?”

  “Anything you won’t sing along to is going to be better.” She snipes sarcastically.

  Jumping in without hesitation, Ainsley takes over the airplay and lands on a classic rock station which is currently playing Lynryd Skynrd. I bite back my amusement as she begins humming along to Sweet Home Alabama. She has a pretty decent voice.

  As we near campus, I’m curious to learn more about Ainsley. Aside from knowing she works two jobs, and that we go to the same school, I know very little else about her. Besides the fact that she’s smoking hot and those legs, that are now tapping to the beat of an AC/DC song, are unbelievably sexy. I don’t even know what year she is. Or if she has a boyfriend. Or if she likes fuck-buddies, ‘cause I’d be down for that.

  I have to clear my throat and swallow down that question before it pops out.

  “So, what year are you and what’s your major?”

  Not the best conversation opener I’ve ever had, but no one ever praised me over my conversational skills.

  I dart a glance at her and watch the thoughts flick across her face. She’d be horrible at poker.

  “Isn’t it fairly obvious? Nursing. And I’m a third year transfer.”

  Snarky. I like this girl. She doesn’t play dumb or coy, or say whatever she thinks I want to hear like most girls do.

  “Where’d you transfer from?”

  “The school of hard knocks.”

  My laughter comes barreling out, something akin to a snort and a grunt, because I wasn’t expecting that answer. But when I don’t hear any concurrent laughter and only silence surrounds us in the car, I tilt my head in her direction. She’s wearing the most rebellious grin I’ve ever seen. And it’s both blinding and erotic at the same time.

  My body wars with my brain to just stop the car right now, lean over the console and wipe that smirk off her face with my tongue.

  “Funny,” I play along, nodding my head in consideration. “And what exactly did you learn at the school of hard knocks?”

  She places a fingertip over her lips, which are puckered tight, one eye closed as if in serious thought. Then she turns to face me, her crystalline eyes bright with humor.

  Yet the sound of her voice conveys a deep truth.

  “To stay away from boys like you.”

  Chapter 7

  Ainsley

  Accepting the ride from Cade was a grievous error on my part, and one that I am now paying dearly for.

  I thought Cade would just drop me off on campus and be on his merry way. I could run to the union to get something for dinner, read up a little for my upcoming test, and then cruise on over to Neeb Hall for my four o’clock lecture.

  That was far from what actually transpired.

  Cade didn’t drop me off. Instead, he parked in the lot closest to the union and walked with me as I tried to make my escape. I felt like I was in the presence of a king, or the Pope, by the number of people that greeted Cade along the campus corridor. If he wasn’t high-fived, given an “atta-boy”, whistled at, gawked at, or thrown a ball to catch by some gushing co-ed or sports fanatic, it was me who was being stared at like I was a virus in a petri dish. With apparent disapproval and disdain from every female in the vicinity.

  If he is the king of the land, then I am his servant. And they are his court.

  At this moment, the king is sitting across from me at a table in the student union, where I’m trying to eat my sandwich in peace, and he’s just chatting away about everything and nothing. It’s both endearing and annoying. Because I don’t have time for this. But every attempt I’ve made to give him the brush off has been met with his dogged perseverance. The man cannot be swayed.

  He’s kind of like a cute Cocker Spaniel puppy. Everyone adores him and wants to pet him, but he just wants to sit on your lap and be loved.

  And it pisses me off. Because I feel pulled into his little orbit. It’s not exactly a hardship to be in the presence of Cade. He’s pretty freaking hot. And if I’m being totally honest, he is sweet and charming. He has not one ounce of the whiny, stuck-up ‘tude that he presented me with last Friday in the cafe.

  This Cade is funny, a bit conceited, and highly entertaining. And he’s made me smile more in the last hour than I think I’ve smiled in over a year.

  So, he can’t be all that bad, right?

  Plus, he bought me my dinner. It was a nice trade-off.

  “So what do you do for fun, Ainsley? Do you live in the dorms?”

  I swallow the remaining piece of my sandwich and wash it down with the iced tea that’s no longer filled with anything resembling ice. Even in the air conditioned building, it’s sweltering hot. I shake my head to answer his question. It’s yet another question out of the thousand it seems he’s already asked me.

  Cade wags his finger at me like he has it all figured out.

  “Oh, I get it. You’re a sorority girl?” He asks, once again trying to figure me out. Good luck, buddy.

  He continues. “That’s weird. You’d think I would have seen you at one of the parties this year.” His moss-green eyes narrow in on me. “And trust me, I would have noticed you.”

  I almost choke, coughing loud enough to draw more unwanted attention. It’s bad enough we are sitting in the middle of the union and I already feel like I’m in a fishbowl.

  “Uh, that would be a negativ
e. I’m definitely not a sorority girl. I live off campus.” That’s all I’m going to say on the subject, because I’m not about to share any personal details with him. I don’t even know Cade, other than that he’s Mr. Forsberg’s grandson and apparently hot shit on the basketball court according to all his fans milling around us.

  I decide to do the smart thing and move the spotlight from me and turn the tables to ask him a question.

  “And how about you? Do you live at one of the frats?”

  Just as I throw that out there, his eyes veer from mine and over my shoulder. Curiosity gets the best of me and I whip my head around to see what’s caught his attention. I come face-to-face with a blonde bombshell.

  I’m first assaulted with a large dose of richly scented perfume. You know the kind…that sweet cloistering smell that remains in a room long after the person has gone. It’s not a horrible smell, but there’s a lot of it.

  As if I’m actually invisible, the girl leans over the table, her boobs spilling out over her top, pushing against my shoulder so that I have to bend to the right in order to have my personal space back.

  Who does that?

  “Hey Griff. Whatcha up to? Haven’t seen you in a few weeks,” she says, her voice alternating between a sultry song to something that resembles Minnie Mouse. I’m about to lose my lunch.

  “Yeah, it’s been a while. You’re looking good, Hailey.” He smiles that smile that has an effect on my girly parts.

  Gah. Damn it. I don’t want to like him!

  My head moves side to side as if I’m watching a tennis match but have totally lost sight of the ball is. My brain can’t quite compute what’s going on between these two, but I’m pretty sure it’s a heavy dose of syrupy sweet flirtation. And if by the tone of her voice, and now the angle of her very large assets dangling in front of Cade’s face, there’s no two ways about it. They’ve either been very intimate with each other, or she wants it to happen bad.