Capital W. Capital O. Capital W.
My lips still hummed from the gentle kiss of reprimand Cade had given me. The throb of the drums on the radio matched my stuttering heartbeat. Was it bad that I’d noticed Cade hadn’t stuttered? I couldn’t help it. His mouth, tongue, and lips were part of my job and, as of a few minutes ago when they’d claimed me for the first time, now were part of the reason I was distracted.
Focus.
Right.
At the museum, Cade’s amazing mouth working over mine, I was given a very big clue as to how to “fix him” as requested. Moira was half right, but I was also half right.
Cade’s tongue was tense. He needed the oral exercises I’d suggested—needed to physically practice to limber the muscle that would help him create words. But underlying, dormant anxiety was also an issue. He had a mental and a physical problem.
Not bad for a student who was not a speech therapist, I thought smugly as he navigated my Z4 away from the museum.
The moment he let his frustration get the best of him, he lost control over his tongue and he was back to stuttering. But after that incredible kiss, one that shut my brain off and powered on my lady bits, one that had my hands grasping him as he cupped the back of my neck, he’d spoken two words perfectly.
Oral therapy.
I was so proud I could have kissed him.
Again.
Cade had adjusted the driver’s seat to accommodate his longer legs. He was both tall and broad, making my powerful Z4 look delicate. Especially the grip he had on the steering wheel. Blunt, squared fingertips, nice knuckles. I’d never really looked at a guy’s hands before, but Cade had really nice ones. I let my eyes wander to the flexing of his biceps—equally nice—when he put the car into reverse, then to the tattoos on his arm—super sexy—as he punched the button for the driver’s-side window.
And yes, I knew my car was ridiculous. I looked it up online and learned I was driving a sixty-thousand-dollar vehicle. Actually, with the additional satellite radio and voice command function, it was probably closer to seventy. My father had gifted it to me, and I know partly because he liked to give me expensive things, but a small, slightly paranoid part of me thought it was his way of further entrenching me in his world. He had mentioned pulling my car payments if I continued seeing Cade. I smirked over at Cade driving the car, feeling naughty and rebellious. And, damn, that felt good.
Watching him drive my Beamer smoothly out of the parking lot was fascinating, and a feat I hadn’t yet achieved. But experiencing the way my back pressed into the seat when he gunned the engine, roaring down the highway and slipping around other cars smoothly, was exhilarating.
I didn’t know I was the kind of girl who found speed sexy, but with Cade at the helm—in control—all I could think of while those nice hands toyed with the Z4’s controls and kept her in check was my own body. I imagined his handling of me would be equally deft.
I’d already sampled his tongue and lips, and there was no doubt in my mind that he could work them on other parts of me just as skillfully. As I imagined which parts he could be teasing with the flick of his tongue, I sighed aloud.
Thankfully the radio was on, so he didn’t hear me literally moaning with pleasure at the thought of him doing wicked things to me.
It wasn’t like me to need sex. Don’t get me wrong, I liked it. I liked the closeness of it. The way time had passed easily between Tony and me when we were in the zone. But since we’d broken up—and since I’d learned he was a womanizing bastard—I began to wonder if I liked having sex with him more because it pleased him and less because it pleased me.
Now that I thought about it, Tony had been pretty distracted during sex. He was always admiring his own body. Flexing his biceps, showing me his abs, which were washboard, and very attractive. Every inch of his brown skin was attractive. I learned later that my ex was ugly on the inside.
Cade…He was different.
But he didn’t used to be, I argued with myself as I studied his healing knuckles. He used to be cocky. I’d never forget when he’d come up to me, all pomp and swagger, and addressed me as “kitten.”
I mean, seriously. How sexist was that?
Though when I thought back to his “oral therapy” quip, part of me wondered if my “kitten” nickname was a compliment, not the insult I’d taken it as.
Tony had done a number on me by then, so I wasn’t exactly receptive when Cade approached. Maybe that “Cade train” thing was a joke…or a messed-up attempt at being charming?
I watched him now, considering I hadn’t seen him as clearly before we’d spent so much time together. Not knowing him, it had been easier to plunk him into the column of “jerk” than it was now. Now that he’d kissed me and I’d kissed him, I was noticing more details about him. Cade wasn’t in 2-D any longer.
“Badass,” I heard him say under the radio. A song by Disturbed came on. I loved this one.
I tried not to appear surprised or excited by his sudden aptness at speaking. Was it because we had kissed…or because he was utterly blissed out driving my car? He really was in his element behind the wheel. Watching him cruise down the highway, handling my car like he’d driven it a thousand times, further reinforced that the accident on Alley Road had been just that: an accident.
Black ice was the cause of that tragic event, not Cade’s lack of control.
Control.
Omigod.
That was it. When Cade was in control, he was able to speak. If I could get him on track mentally, and he was willing to do speaking exercises, I’d bet he’d be back to himself in no time.
The ride was over too fast and he looked as disappointed as I felt when he pulled into his driveway. Two very manly hands slid over the steering wheel. I liked the way he stroked my car like she was a powerful animal he respected.
I imagined being handled by Cade in the same manner.
Purr.
His eyes found mine as he turned off the car. I wanted more of his mouth. I wanted to explore the tension that hummed between us. Things had just gotten hella complicated.
“Through?” he asked.
I blinked out of the fantasy forming, sad to leave it behind. Was he asking if I was through with him? Because the answer was: not even close.
“With…the session?” I asked. “We didn’t do anything.”
“We did ssssomething.” He pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring with anger.
The “something” he meant was the kiss, and even the elongated S didn’t kill the moment for me, not even a little. It could have been one of those cute, flirty moments—like in the movies, where he would look chagrined and I would smile—but he didn’t let it go.
His hands went tight, strangling the wheel, and the muscles in his arms bunched. He was so hard on himself—beating himself up over a few misspoken letters.
“I like when you talk. Whether you stammer or not,” I told him, thinking he’d appreciate my honesty.
He didn’t.
“Y-you like me w-weak,” he growled, then got out of the car.
The entire vehicle shook when he slammed the door. I sat, flabbergasted, staring blindly at the dashboard in front of me, trying to rein in my temper.
I climbed out as he tapped in the code on the garage, sending the door up.
“Are you saying I get some sort of satisfaction from watching you flail?” I shouted across the driveway. “Do you think I get off on your verbal hesitations?”
He sent me a scathing glare, but instead of disappearing inside, he bared his teeth and took one step closer to me as he said, “Yes.”
“Well, I don’t!” I stomped over to him, my hands balled into fists as I considered pummeling him where he stood.
I wasn’t an evil person. I was his friend—the only one who’d stuck around and waited on the ambulance when he was crumpled over his steering wheel bleeding all over the interior of his Audi.
“Know what I like?” I asked, hurt by his accusation
s but also wanting him to know. I blatantly looked at his mouth.
His mouth softened from that hard line and in an instant I remembered the firm yet gentle force when he kissed me. His eyes went to my lips and I knew he was thinking about the same moment. He came the slightest bit closer, his hand wrapping around my wrist. “Yeah. I do.”
I wanted the kiss his eyes promised, but then the front door opened, and the tension between us shattered. Cade dropped my wrist and took a purposeful step away from me as his dad appeared on the porch.
Paul offered us an innocuous smile.
“Oh, hey, guys.” Paul walked toward us, leather briefcase in hand. “Sorry. Didn’t meant to interrupt.”
Cade shot him a glare before turning and leaving me behind. I watched him vanish into the murkiness of the garage and listened as the door leading to his room opened and shut.
“Still nothing?” Paul asked me, sounding tired and sad. He cared about Cade. He’d screwed up, and I knew that his and Cade’s relationship was strained, but at least he was trying. Though, to be fair, now Cade was trying too. A moment ago he’d accused me of liking him weak. I hoped Paul wasn’t accidentally holding his son down for that same reason.
“He’s doing much better.” So that I didn’t sound defensive, I added, “The exercises were effective, and getting out of the house helped.” I couldn’t stop the slight blush from coloring my cheeks because now I was thinking about the kiss.
“Good. That’s good.” Paul pulled a set of keys from his pants pocket. “Nice car, Tasha.”
“Thank you.” Cade had parked my Z4 squarely in the center of the two-car garage. “I’m in your way.”
“You can move back after I leave,” he offered.
“No, that’s okay. Cade and I are done for the day.” Apparently, I thought with a sigh of defeat.
“I appreciate what you’re doing for him,” Paul said. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached into his bag and brought out a skinny envelope. “For this week.”
Paul had been paying me, so the offer of a paycheck was nothing new. But now that the dynamic had shifted between Cade and me, taking money felt…wrong.
“I didn’t tell you,” I said as I took a step away from the proffered payment. “The rehab center offered me full-time work.” I pasted on a grin and hoped Paul didn’t think I was being unforgivably rude.
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t earn this for your services.”
“I wouldn’t feel right about it.” Another step back. “Cade is my friend. And I’m not an actual speech therapist. Keep your money, Paul.”
“It’s not gambling money.” His smile wavered. “Sober for sixty-five days now,” he said of his Gamblers Anonymous meetings. He’d had one setback right after the new year. Devlin told Rena and Rena told me.
“No, I didn’t think that at all.” Shit. I was making this worse. “Honestly, Paul. I want to help Cade because…” Kissing him is its own reward. “Because.” I gestured to my car and offered a dab of humor I hoped would clear the awkwardness from the air. “Besides, it’s not like I’m wanting for anything.”
He finally lowered the envelope. “Okay. I just don’t want your dad to assume—”
“No!” I shouted almost desperately. “He, um, you know, he doesn’t need to know about any of this. He worries about my homework even though I’m getting straight A’s.” I tacked that last part on with a sweet smile. I’m not quite in “straight A” territory, but one C-minus isn’t going to prevent me from graduating. “I told him Cade was cured and I’d done my job.” Also a lie. I clasped my hands in front of me. “So you can imagine what he’d say if this got back to him.”
Paul sucked in a breath of his own, and I could tell his newly sprouted conscience was eating at him.
“Fair enough.” Paul tucked the envelope back into his briefcase. “You know you’re welcome here anytime.”
That was nice to hear. Paul walked into the garage and I headed back to my car. But as I ducked to slide into the driver’s seat, I noticed Cade standing at his window, his eyes on me, his expression unreadable.
Shit.
He’d seen me decline the money for his therapy. Which left me open and exposed. Unless he thought I was doing this out of charity and not because my morals had been recently turned upside down. I simply couldn’t allow Paul to pay me when I would spend time with Cade for free.
Chapter 8
Tasha
“Do you think I should have accepted it?”
I had just told Rena about the awkwardish interaction between Paul Wilson and me. Oak & Sage hadn’t opened yet. I had texted Rena ahead of time and found out Cade wasn’t there. I hadn’t spoken to him all week. She was currently looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
Rena lifted an eyebrow. “I’m probably the wrong person to ask if you should have accepted an envelope full of cash, given that I accepted one not too long ago for that one.” She hoisted a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing in the general direction of Devlin, who was bustling around the restaurant preparing to open.
“It wasn’t cash.” I rolled my eyes. “No one gambles anymore. It’s gauche.”
We shared a smile.
“Well, why didn’t you take it?” Rena didn’t know about the kiss yet. “It’s not as if you haven’t earned it. Not as if you haven’t been fitting in Cade’s therapy between a full class load and another job.”
“I know. But Cade and I have become…friends.” I scrunched up my face. That word still felt like the wrong definition for whatever it was we had between us. Because we weren’t really “friendly,” but that kiss had been far more than friendly.
“No, but it makes me uncomfortable. Especially after…” Since I hadn’t told her about the kiss at the museum yet or my hypothesis, I decided now was the time. I looked over my shoulder. A hostess rolled silverware at a nearby table, but I didn’t see anyone else. When I turned back to Rena, she was leaning over the bar, her fingers laced together. My rapt audience.
“Especially after what?” she asked, her voice lilting. Since she’d recently harbored her own sexy secret, it was right of her to suspect me.
“Especially after he kissed me.” I said the last three words in a whisper.
Rena’s jaw dropped. Then she grinned. “I knew it. Tell me everything.”
“Well, I took him to the museum, thinking we would try the straw thing. Thanks, by the way, for those.” It was Rena who’d given me a handful of wrapped straws when I told her my idea.
“Let me guess. He skipped the straw and sucked on your tongue instead?”
“Rena!”
She erupted into giggles. Rena wasn’t a giggler, so the sound made me smile. “I honestly tried to get him to do the exercises. But he drank all my water.” I demonstrated the ooo and puh exercises he’d refused to do next.
Rena made an unpleasant face. “You really expected him to do that?”
“If he ever wants to speak clearly again,” I said defensively. “This is standard stuff.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” Rena straightened and held out a hand in surrender. “So when that didn’t go over, you decided to do a different kind of exercise.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Geez. Sex on the brain.
“At first it was purely scientific.” Could I have sounded any more full of crap? She smiled confirming that, no, I couldn’t. “I visited one of his former speech therapists. She believes a lot of his problems are in his head.”
Rena considered this. “I guess that makes sense. He and Devlin were pretty stunned when they found out they were related last year. Add to that Paul’s addiction, the car accident. Sonny getting busted,” she said of Devlin’s former bookie employer.
“I believe the exercises will help him, if I can get him to do them. I told him I wanted to try an experiment, but he didn’t let me initiate.” Despite myself, I was grinning broadly when I said, “He started counting, then didn’t let me get to three before he pulled me in.”
“How w
as it?”
“It worked,” I announced proudly. “He was able to speak without a stutter after the kiss. Which tells me—”
“No, Tasha.” She gripped my arm and tipped her head, sending her dark ponytail over one shoulder. “How was it?”
I knew that’s what she was asking. I was trying to deflect.
“Electric,” I answered on a breath.
In a dreamy voice she said, “Oh, I love those. Especially when you don’t know what’s coming next.”
I blushed as I thought about what had come next. More kissing. Tongues sliding. My fist gripping his shirt as I tugged his body closer to mine…
If I hadn’t had a complete nerdgasm and whipped out my journal to jot down my findings, we could’ve made out on that blanket for the rest of the afternoon.
That would’ve been nice, I thought with a pinch of regret. And then I wouldn’t have had to turn down Paul’s envelope, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that Cade had seen me refuse it.
“Don’t tell Devlin.” A futile request, given the fact that she probably told him everything.
“Don’t tell me what?”
“Nothing,” I said when Devlin materialized seemingly out of nowhere.
“Cade and Tasha made out at the art museum today, and now she won’t let Paul pay her for her therapy since her sessions will soon include sex,” Rena said.
“Rena!”
Devlin blinked at his girlfriend, then at me. “Well. This has trouble written all over it.”
“It’s no one’s business but ours.” I sent a glare at Rena that she returned with a smile. “Thanks a lot, friend.”
“Devlin finds out everything.” She hoisted an eyebrow and sent him a saucy glance. “He has a way of making me talk.”
Devlin’s smile was somewhere between sinister and dopey. My heart swelled in spite of being made fun of. Their being together was really growing on me.
“I should get going.” I slid off the barstool and shouldered my purse.
“Devlin, promise me you won’t say anything to Cade or Paul.”
He pursed his lips in thought.
“You owe me.” I didn’t usually call in favors, but Devlin did owe me. He never would have pulled his head from his ass and gone back to Rena if it hadn’t been for my poking him with a stick. He owed me his happiness, dammit. And so did my best friend. “Rena?”
Shut Up and Kiss Me: A Lost Boys Novel Page 8