She came up onto her knees on the mattress and glared down at him, lying on his back with his arms behind his head, seemingly oblivious to the sucker punch he’d issued to her heart. “Flowers. Fucking candy. How many fucking celebrities do you think I’ve entertained?” She winced as her ugly cuss words filled the space between them.
“Hate to break it to you, Sophie, but no chance in hell of a red-blooded American male ever confusing you with a virgin. Not with that mouth of yours and all. You put on quite a performance five nights a week. America’s got your number, you made certain of that. After all, ‘sexy is as sexy does.’ And I’m game for finding out exactly what that means.”
Damn. Her own words had come back to stab her in the throat. Moisture coated her eyelashes. Double damn. Would she ever be able to shed her Late Night persona?
“Don’t think I give two shits, sweetheart. It’s not like they’re rolling around on the mattress with us.”
“You think I slept my way to the top.” She blinked her tears away and sat up straighter. This was her fault for allowing this playboy jock to manipulate her. Letting his sullen brooding act suck her in. Letting him get closer to her than any other man. She’d been played by the king of players. And, boy, did it smart.
“Hey, I’m not judging you.” His head was back on a pillow and he was staring at the ceiling. She felt like grabbing the other one and smacking him in the head.
“Just wanted to let you know how it was gonna be,” he muttered, petulantly. “Thought I was being considerate.”
“Bullshit.”
He shifted his weight. She momentarily lost her balance, and had to place her hands on his thigh to stop from toppling over and on to him. The big jerk.
She wanted to scramble off the mattress but the beast was blocking her way. Hell, if he wanted Sophie Morelle and her smart mouth, he was going to get it.
“You know what? I’ve been overly considerate of you and your mood swings. You’re one coldhearted bastard.” She snorted and poked him in the thigh. “You’re good, alright. Playing me like that. Making me feel sorry for—”
He rolled, twisted and rose onto his knees. A second later, she was back underneath him.
“I don’t want your pity. Got it?”
She blinked, and blinked again. His eyes were full of pain.
For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Then, he shut her out.
He hadn’t been playing me.
He rolled onto his back and studied the ceiling.
She moved onto her side, propped her head up on her hand, and swiped the hair out of her face in order to get a better look at him.
With his hands beneath his head, he looked as if he’d smoked a fine cigarette in bed and was enjoying the effects. This time, she wasn’t fooled by his seemingly heartless act. Maybe, just maybe, she’d gotten through to him.
“You’re not a killer, okay?” She pronounced killer slowly, deliberately. “Jeez, one little word...” Taking a deep breath, she waiting to see how he’d respond.
“The door is over there. Use it.”
Deflecto-mundo. “Message received, loud and clear.”
He grunted. As if to say, end of discussion.
She searched for some neutral ground, words to lighten the tension that rolled through the room like midnight waves. That, or she could leave. But his reaction proved her right, there was a fragility within him. A side of Caden she needed to figure out. Just like she sensed he needed her right now.
“So, do you think Sal could have taken the guy who blocked our way?”
He stiffened, sighing. For another awkward moment, he didn’t budge or say anything. Then, he turned her way. “If the old-timer can produce a sirloin out of the blue, I’m not counting him out. But that man is proving to be a real nuisance.” Reaching beneath him, he pulled out the still-frozen steak.
She grinned.
“I’m sorry, you know. About my bad attitude. About hurting you. I’m not fit for company, especially after a fight like that.”
She felt her smile drop, both from shock and from something more. Something deeper. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
She sighed. “You were way off the mark, you know. Being one of the few women on late night was hard. But I earned it, and not by rolling around on the network couches. Heck, I graduated from the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism. Magna cum laude. Bet you didn’t expect to hear that.”
“Nope. But I’m not surprised, either. That’s what I like about you the most, your gumption.” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her skin. Her face warmed, along with the rest of her. “I’m listening,” he prompted. The arrogance, the hurt, was gone from his tone. He sounded gentle, almost humble.
“You realize I’m the reporter and you are the guy I should be interviewing.”
“Deflecto-mundo. Go on.”
She wanted to roll her eyes. His thumb continued across her cheek and softly ran along her jawline, all the way to her mouth.
“I landed a freelance spot at the Arizona Times. My seventh assignment earned a Courage in Journalism award from the International Women’s Media Foundation. I was part of a team that exposed an underground drug cartel working the border. They were busted and arrested on my twenty-fourth birthday.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m rambling on and telling you this.” Maybe, just maybe, you’ll confide in me.
“Yes, you do.”
She stiffened. Had she been than transparent?
He grinned.
Perceptive man.
“Why late night?”
“Big mistake.” She drew in a deep breath, then blurted out the truth. “I sold out for the money and fame. And some sort of warped respect, like being someone people knew and quoted on the streets was important. Prove to the people back home in Hawley, especially that Hank Cawfield...” Oh, no. Damn. Damn. Damn.
She tugged herself away from his touch and rolled onto her back.
To his credit, he repositioned his head on the pillow next to her.
It seemed like hours before he broke the silence. “This documentary means a lot to you, huh? An exclusive with me,” he snorted, “won’t be as spectacular as taking down a drug cartel, but it should draw some attention—for what it’s worth.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t trust the tremble in her voice enough to say anything further. Maybe now was a good time to grab her camcorder and head back to her room.
“Who would have thought we’d have such a shitload in common?”
“You’re tired, too? Better head back to my room then.”
He responded by sliding off the bed, crossing the room, and returning with two bottles of water. “I have something stronger stashed away in the nightstand.”
Sophie shook her head. After the catastrophic night they’d had, hard liquor was asking for trouble. Heading back to her room was the best idea. A safe environment where she could regroup. Alone. She didn’t know which was worse, feeling Caden’s pain or her own.
Caden reclined back onto the bed and took a long drink of water. When he finished, he carefully placed the half-emptied bottle on the nightstand, and turned her way. “I would have offered you something to eat along with the drink, but it’s frozen solid over there on the carpet.”
She offered a weak smile and took a sip from her water. The tepid liquid soothed the dryness in her throat. She almost choked when she looked up and saw the concern in his expression. Noticing her, Sophie, not the trash-talking woman he’d commented on earlier. Looking long and deep, like the way he’d polished off his water.
Like he understood, and wasn’t running for the hills.
She took another sip, longer this time.
When she’d finished, he reached over, plucked the bottle from her grasp
, and set it beside his own. “Relax.”
Really? Relax? They’d been riding an emotional rollercoaster for half an hour and he wanted her to relax?
“Take off your pants.”
“What?”
“Change of plans. Take ’em off. Quick, before I nod off.”
Caden was as alert as ever, nowhere near sleep. Maybe he had bouts of narcolepsy too. She doubted it.
“Ten. Nine. Eight.”
“Um...I’m not wearing—”
“Seven.”
What the heck, it wasn’t like she hadn’t taken the plunge in this direction moments earlier. Wasn’t like the anticipation wasn’t killing her. Wasn’t like she didn’t want him.
“You asked for it, buddy.” Without further comment, she raised her hips off the bed and shimmied out of her slacks. Shook them out and folded them, then rolled toward the edge of the bed and placed them on the nightstand.
Caden made a strange sound, like the wind had been sucked out of him.
She rolled back his way and gasped when she caught the look in his eyes. Oh. My. God.
A lifetime passed as his gaze roamed over her body. Inch by inch of her warmed under his regard. Second by second his eyes grew hotter. Then, he flashed her a smile, one that gripped her heart and squeezed, making her breathless.
With a finger, he touched her bare midriff. Oh-so-slowly, his finger drifted down around her belly button and lower still, until his digit found her soft curls. Tracing slow circles, he stroked her mound. The pad of his finger swirled first one way, then the other, shooting sparks of pleasure through her entire body. She lifted her hips, but not enough to cause his digit to shift lower, where her nub was doing a flag salute. Not enough to find her wetness.
“Beautiful. The color of chili powder.” His voice deep and full of gravel. “Let’s find out how many times we can make you explode.”
He moved so darn fast his comment was lost on her. Her long, bare leg rested on top of his thigh. With one hand, he deftly unbuttoned her blouse. His other hand lingered, stubbornly refusing to shift lower, to the delicate nub swollen with need. Just a little attention, that’s all she required. Caden promised an explosion, not realizing that the powder keg of lust begging for his touch was about ready to blast the roof off this motel.
Sooner, rather than later.
Her blouse fell open and he worked an arm free and slid it off her. He worked his palms over her breasts and grinned at her moan. Grabbing the hem of her cami, he worked it up and over her head.
Then, his fingers returned to her curls while his other hand cupped her breast, testing out the weight of it.
He pinched a nipple, gentle but with enough force that a jolt of electricity shot through her.
Light as a whisper, he thumbed her nub. Just enough to make her buck toward his hand.
Caden laughed.
She reached over and cupped the rigid length of him through his sweats.
His laughter stopped. But, boy-oh-boy, his fingers certainly didn’t. His thumbs played her body like a song, alternating between a firm rub of her nipple and a slick slide over her folds.
She grinned at the feel of his cock jerking beneath her palm.
In the next cycle of thumbs, his at last sank into her warm wetness. Then he rubbed his digit over her nub, moistening it. “Tsk. Tsk. Why so serious?” he murmured playfully.
Curse him. This devil knew just how to play her and get her revved up and raring to go, both in and out of bed.
He traced the trial of moisture left by his thumb with a finger, over and across her curls and, with a gentle nudge, worked it inside of her. She opened to him like a spring rose as he added another finger and established a mind-altering rhythm. His fingers plunged deeper, more forcefully, and he shifted her leg higher on his hip.
Her body began cresting in a slow-rising hum.
Suddenly, he was gone.
She bit back a cry of protest.
Then, cried out in surprise as he rolled their bodies so her back was to the mattress and her legs spread open with him between them.
He laughed. “I’m about to wipe that frown straight off your face, chili bean. Know what I want?”
Oh, multiple responses to that question sprang to mind. Dang, if she didn’t want the same things, all of them. Now.
“Now?” he chuckled.
Oh, crap. I said it aloud.
“Now, now, patience comes to those that wait.” He bent over and licked a nipple.
Yes.
He pulled back. “Are you getting the drift of where things are going?”
Jeez. “Can we get there already? Please, take off your sweats.”
He sat back, still straddling her with his legs bearing his weight. “No can do.”
She growled low in her throat.
He laughed. “That’s the spirit. You see, I need to know the answer to a question that’s been on my mind.”
“Listen, Chatty Cathy...”
He snorted, then burst out laughing, deep and genuine, like he’d been holding it back and waiting for the right time to grace her with the sound of it. When it ended, he tilted his head and bit down lightly on her other nipple. His other hand found her core and his fingers drew a line between her wet folds.
Instantly, her body picked up where it held left off seconds ago. She spread her legs wider.
“Point taken. But one more thing,” he whispered in her ear. She didn’t care, as his hands were talking as well. “I wanna know how sweet chili pepper tastes.”
Holy crapola. His words stirred up a lust so swift she nearly climaxed on the spot.
The bed shifted. His breath warmed her stomach. His tongue caressed her skin. Lightly at first, then more firmly as he licked his way along the same path his fingers had taken earlier, around her belly button and down a straight line to her curls. He paused and with both hands, spread her legs wider. Then, his tongue was everywhere. Roaming over her nub, licking between her folds, and plunging so deep inside of her, she groaned.
He didn’t say another word. That gorgeous tongue of his—what else did she expect?—did all the talking.
She’d swear she saw a smile on his face as he sucked, licked and plundered her.
Nothing in his actions were rough or hard. The complete opposite, in fact, with the expert way he played her body. For the first time in her life, she felt cherished.
So close.
Her fingers wove into his hair, tugging him in. Feeling the heat from his tongue’s long strokes as she peaked and spiraled out of control.
Chapter Eleven
HAYMAKER: A good ole fashioned punch, most often witnessed in barnyards.
Caden cursed under his breath as he plucked the last pink petal off the single rose he’d purchased back in the manager’s office. What made him dream up this dumb move, he didn’t know. He sprinkled the final handful onto Sophie’s pillow.
She murmured incomprehensibly. The smile that he’d put on her lips remained.
Another considerate gesture from an inconsiderate guy.
Thoughtfulness wasn’t his usual mode of operation. A long, hard fuck or women pleasuring him, not the other way around, that was the deal. Hell, he was a selfish guy. Usually he held his women physically close—hell, buried balls deep inside them—but kept himself emotionally distant. No romantic bullshit. No regrets. No weird desire to climb back in bed and freakin’ spoon up against her.
Sophie sneezed and her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t wake.
He grinned down at her, pleased she was exhausted. He’d brought her to climax twice, first with his mouth, then with his fingers. Enjoyed it, too. Thinking about the way her skin flushed pink and the little moan she gave as she peaked made him hard.
Once more he contempl
ated crawling back into bed and wrapping himself around her, just the position he’d found himself in when he’d woken up.
His cold, calculated manner—one of several steel-thick layers protecting his own vulnerability—hadn’t discouraged her in the slightest. Though for a second, when he’d mentioned how she’d slept her way to the top, he’d thought he’d actually hurt her. As for throwing her off track with sex-talk, that had them both wanting to get down-and-dirty quicker than a country swing dance. Shaking his head, he moved away from the bed and finished stuffing his clothing into his bag, leaving a fresh set out to change into.
Sophie’d seen past his bullshit.
Neat, tidy, unemotional and mutually satisfying. That’s how he liked to keep things. Sentimental suicide, that’s what this was.
All the more reason to hightail it out of Dodge.
Which is what he’d been trying to do for the past half hour, having woken the motel manager up to get the garage keys. And the goddamn rose.
As he stripped, the nagging sensation that he’d made some kind of unspoken promise persisted.
He looked around the room, spotted the camera bag she’d placed on the chair by the wall, then turned back to the woman sleeping soundly in bed. He’s seen a side of her he hadn’t expected. Someone had hurt her, likely an ex—Hank Cawfield? That the pain still lingered was clear. It left her softer than expected, more vulnerable.
Surprising. Yet nothing about last night was typical.
Suddenly, he had the desire to leave her with something, something more than the petals he’d tossed on her pillow and the smile he’d put on her lips.
Striding over to the chair, he removed her camcorder from the bag, then returned to bed and settled back down on the mattress beside her. Adjusting the sheet around his nakedness, he flipped open the viewfinder, held up the camcorder, and hit record.
“Hey, there. This is Caden Kelly. I decided to throw a bone out to Sophie Morelle, who’s been relentlessly bugging me to reveal all.” He paused. Yeah, he’d like to do nothing better right now than throw the covers off, reveal all—namely his thick, heavy member—then throw her the bone and fuck her right out of his system. Shit for bricks. Absentmindedly, he moved his free hand to her pillow and lifted a lock of auburn hair before he continued on with a safer topic. Wrapping it around his fingers tempered the resurgence of lust that had gripped him by the balls. “First, let’s start with two of my favorite fighting styles, Sanshou and Greco-Roman wrestling, and how I trained with masters in each specifically for Tetnus.”
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