The Connection

by Adriana Locke

  “You better eat more,” Cane warns, patting me on the back until I stop coughing. “You’ve drank a lot and barely eaten anything.”

  “I’m fine.” I compose myself the best I can and smile at my fiancé. The haze sitting over my mind is thick, but even a touch inebriated, I know it’s true.

  I am fine.

  No, I’m more than fine.

  I’m happy.

  Who would’ve thought Sin City with Cane Alexander, the one man that embodied everything I was avoiding, would’ve made me this deliriously happy?

  I watch him try to decide how to respond. It’s his nature to protect me, to be overbearing sometimes. I know he’s having a hard time not jerking the drink out of my hand and, secretly, I love it. I love looking into his eyes and see him try to balance making me happy and him happy. Because I know better than most how easy it is for someone to only think about themselves.

  Cane’s tanned skin contrasts with his white dress shirt and his blue eyes glimmer under the restaurant lights. He has his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbow. His toned forearms make me wish they were wrapped around me, holding me against the abs I know to be rock solid beneath his shirt.

  He’s seriously the best looking man I’ve ever seen.

  “This is your last glass,” he says, furrowing his brow. He traces his bottom lip with his finger and I watch it skim the surface. It’s just a sexy display. I tighten my thighs, trying to reel myself in. Between the Moscato and the look he’s giving me, I’m a hot mess.

  “Oh, Cane. Let her enjoy herself,” Kari interjects, smiling brightly at me. “This is Vegas. You’re supposed to be wild and crazy here.”

  “Then get crazy,” he responds, shooting her a warning glance. “Have fuckin’ at it, Kari. But Jada isn’t.”

  “I’m right here,” I remind them. They all turn to look at me and I feel like I’m under a spotlight. I feel my cheeks heating under their gazes and I shift in my seat. “What?”

  Max chuckles. The timbre of his voice always soothes me in a way. He’s one of my favorite people. He’s kind and dependable . . . and ridiculously handsome, especially in his khaki pants and black polo shirt. “Nothing, Jada,” he smiles. “Are y’all about finished eating?”

  A waitress comes by and asks the same thing. We let her take our plates—and my drink, thanks to Cane—and we wait on the check. There’s a small current of uncomfortableness at the table and I can’t place it. I know it’s there, but I can’t quite make sense of it.

  Everyone is discussing tomorrow’s plans, but my head is too fuzzy to think about tomorrow. It seems like so far away and so pointless to consider. We are on vacation. I don’t want to think about plans and tomorrows. All I want do is look at my fiancé and think about how lucky I am.

  He loves me. He protects me. He would do anything for me.

  I glance at my engagement ring and my mind starts swirling. I know I’m a bit tipsy, but maybe that just helps me think without the clutter and doubt I usually have. Because even though I’ve nearly drank my weight in Moscato, I know that the one person that would do anything for me, that wants to marry me, is sitting next to me. And I’ve been putting off marrying him for what? Convenience?

  Well, it doesn’t get more convenient than Vegas.

  “Hey,” I say rather loudly, causing everyone to stop talking. I giggle at their startled reactions, but look at Cane. “Sorry. That was a little loud. Anyway, I was thinking . . . We’re in Vegas. And I love you. And you love me. And we are getting married anyway. And why don’t we just go get married tonight?”

  “No, Jada!” Kari shrieks.

  I ignore her and watch Cane. He’s sitting quietly in his chair, his face a touch paler than normal. Most people wouldn’t recognize it, but I know him. Even a little drunk, I know something’s wrong.

  Cane takes my hand and holds it. His eyes are soft, but there’s a hint of discomfort in them. I’m not sure why. It causes my stomach to sink and the Moscato to swirl around it, churning with a force that makes me queasy.

  “You don’t want to do that,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “You don’t want to go to some ridiculous Elvis-inspired building and get married.”

  “I do. I want to be Mrs. Alexander tonight.”

  He doesn’t respond. He squeezes my hand, his eyes raging like a storm at sea. I see the love I always see in them, but also a resolution that we are not getting married tonight.

  “What?” I feel a bit humiliated. I try to take my hand away from his, but he holds on tight. “You don’t want to marry me all of a sudden?”

  “Jada,” Max says, “you don’t want your wedding done like that. Just take it easy, darlin.’”

  “How do you know? I want to get married tonight. You all have been pushing me to make decisions and I haven’t and you’ve been annoyed and then I want to get married . . .”

  My eyes fill with hot tears. I know on some level they’re right, but it hurts my pride that they shut me down. I finally do what they want and all of a sudden it’s the wrong thing to do?

  “I want to marry you,” Cane says, a touch of a smile on his lips. “But not like that, beautiful girl. I don’t want to marry you without your dad and friends. I want you in a white dress and a sexy garter belt I can take off you later.”

  I sniffle. His words make me feel a bit better. “You said we could get married as soon as I wanted . . .”

  “Not like this, Jada,” Kari says softly. “You’ve had a lot to drink. Let’s just discuss this tomorrow.”

  “Fine. But stop asking me wedding questions all the time. Don’t push me and then not want me to go through with it.”

  “Oh, we’re going through with it . . .”

  “But not tonight,” I say pointedly, earning a glare from Cane.

  He drops my hand to take the check from the waitress. I grab my purse off the floor and stand, smoothing out my dress. I don’t know at this point if I’m hurt that he doesn’t want to marry me tonight or if I’m happy he wants a real wedding.

  It just stings regardless.

  Cane signs the check and stands, wrapping his arm around my waist.

  “Do you want to walk through the hotel? Gamble a little?” Max asks, locking his fingers through Kari’s. She looks up at him and grins and he places a kiss on her forehead.

  Cane looks at me, his brows pulled together, before answering. “Nah, we are going up to our room. I need to have a little discussion with my fiancée.”

  CANE

  I try my hardest not to drag her through the damn hotel. She’s had a lot to drink, is teetering on her heels, and is sulking because I wouldn’t marry her in some cheesy-ass wedding chapel in the middle of the night.

  I’m pissed and I’m not sure where to really even direct it.

  At myself for turning her down, even under the circumstances. At her for putting me in that spot. At Kari for making us come here in the first place. At Max because he’s always a good person to be pissed at, reason notwithstanding.

  The elevator door chimes open and I pull her down the hall to our room. She’s slow behind me and I have half a notion to pick her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her the rest of the way.

  I insert the card and press the door open, pulling Jada in the room behind me.

  I toss my wallet and the card on the table by the lamp and turn to face her.

  Her cheeks are red, her eyes wide. She’s biting her bottom lip and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s nervous or to keep from crying. But I’m not having it either way.

  My hands cup the sides of her face and I bring my mouth to hers. She places her palms on my chest and tries to push me back.

  “Cane . . .” she says, but I don’t let her finish. I work her lips over with mine, feeling her struggle against me.

  She can struggle all she wants, but my point will be made.

  “Cane, stop,” she says again. I allow her to pull back, dropping my hands to my sides. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath.
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br />   “What?”

  “I need a minute.”

  “Why?”

  She drops her chin and walks passed me, stopping at the foot of the bed. Her back is to me as she kicks off her heels.

  “Are you mad at me?” I ask.

  “No. Yes. Kind of?”

  Fair enough.

  “Okay. Take your clothes off.”

  She spins around, wobbling a little. “What?”

  “You wanna fight?” I shrug off my shirt and toss it aside. I begin to unfasten my pants. “We can fight. That’s fine. I’m more than happy to argue with you. Just get that dress off.”

  “I completely don’t understand.”

  “If we fight, we fight naked. Now get the fucking dress off or I’ll take it off of you.”

  She tosses her shoulders back, trying to look defiant. She crosses her arms over her chest.

  I remove my shoes and socks and feel her gaze on me. I slip out of my pants and kick them to the side with my shirt, ignoring her. I can hear her breath pick up but I don’t look up. I undo my watch and sit it on the table beside my wallet.

  Finally, I hold my hands out to the side. “Your turn.”

  “I’m not getting naked.”

  “Oh, my love, you are.”

  “I am not—” she starts, but I reach her before she knows it. I kiss her hard, breathing in her protests until she finally gives in.

  I press my body against hers. I palm her ass and drag her roughly to me. Her arms wrap around my neck, her tongue mingling with mine. I feel her resolve weaken.

  My hands trail up her back, finding her zipper. I jerk it down and step back, guiding the dress down her body until it drops to her feet.

  “My God, woman.”

  She’s standing before me in a pair of white lace panties and a matching bra.

  “I should’ve just married you tonight. Fuck.”

  A shadow crosses her face and I wish I didn’t mention it. But I had to. I have to let her know why I won’t marry her tonight. Or . . . sort of why I won’t.

  “Stop,” I say, picking her up and carrying her to the top of the bed. Her eyes are wide, her body radiating her need for me to take her. But I know her well enough to see the hint of nervousness lying just below the desire. I know she felt a bit rejected earlier and I have to make that go away. I won’t have her thinking I’d ever reject her.

  I toss her gently in the middle of the mattress and climb in beside her. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face, I kiss her lightly again.

  “You’ve had a lot to drink tonight and I’m not letting that ruin everything.” I let my fingertips play at the hem of her panties.

  “Ruin what?” She covers my hand with hers and nudges it beneath the lace, her eyes locked on mine.

  I shrug. I want to speak, to explain, but I can’t. Not yet. Not all the way.

  Her silky skin is warm beneath mine. Her eyes flutter closed and a small, sweet sigh escapes her mouth as I press against her opening.

  “Mine,” I whisper.

  “Yours,” she says breathlessly.

  I dip a finger into her, her back arching at the intrusion. I press again, feeling her body tighten around my finger.

  “Back to the topic at hand,” I say, watching her dark lashes open and close. “I’m not about to let you ruin the moment we become Mr. and Mrs. Alexander because you drank too much. When we do say our vows, when I promise you all the things I’m going to swear to you, I want you coherent. I want you to remember each and every one.”

  She moans softly and I sink another finger into her wetness. I rub her clit and press in again, her body moving against me.

  “Cane . . .”

  “Jada . . .” I push her bra down one cup at a time, her full breasts springing free. Her nipples are hard, begging for attention. I lick one, then the other, before sucking it into my mouth. I roll her nipple with my tongue while working my fingers in and out of her body.

  “I want you so fucking bad,” I growl.

  “Then have me.”

  I slip my fingers out and grasp onto the lace. I rip them down her body and toss them to the floor.

  “You ruined those,” she laughs, her hands reaching out and grabbing my sides. I position my body over hers.

  “I’ll buy you another pair.”

  She grins, running her hands down my abs and then onto my back. Her touch leaves my skin feeling like it’s on fire. I’ve never experienced that before her and I hope it never stops.

  I guide myself to her opening and enter her in one swift push. Her eyes fly open, a hiss escaping her throat as she adjusts to my hard cock.

  “You like that?” I pull out before pressing in again, more controlled this time.

  “Yes,” she moans, her heels locking at the small of my back. “I do.”

  “Me, too.” I feel every sinful inch of her body, slick with want for me.

  For me.

  She presses her heels into my skin, encouraging me to move faster. I speed up, finding a tempo I know she likes.

  I watch her face, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes heavy with desire. She’s so fucking beautiful I almost can’t look at her without spilling myself inside her.

  “Cane . . .” I feel her pussy clench around my cock and her legs start to tremble.

  I pick up my pace, angling the movement so my shaft guides against her clit with every stroke. It’s her undoing.

  “Ah!” she wraps her fingers in my hair and tugs hard. “Cane!”

  Her body erupts around me, pulsing and squeezing my length. Her nipples go hard and I lick them again, trailing my tongue up her chest before capturing her mouth with mine.

  She falls apart, moaning into my mouth, making it incredibly fucking hard not to lose it myself. I slow my strokes, guiding her back to Earth.

  Her legs and hands topple to the sides.

  I kiss her gently, easing in and out of her slowly.

  “Damn, Cane,” she whispers, her voice heavy.

  I laugh, pulling out and laying beside her. My dick is hard as a rock, pointing to the ceiling. I want to flip her over and pound into her from behind. But she’s emotional tonight and I don’t want her to ever feel less than . . . my everything.

  She breathes sharply and gets up to hover over me. “Your turn.”

  I grab her narrow waist and guide her onto me. She glides down with precision, sinking our bodies together inch by inch. Her wetness coats my cock.

  It’s fucking heaven.

  She places her feet on each side of me and rises up. I palm her breasts, one in each hand. They’re engorged, filling my hands like they were created for them.

  “Ready, baby?” she grins, shaking her head so her hair spills off her shoulders.

  I tip my hips and she begins to rise and fall, pumping up and down. The sensation of her breasts shaking in my hands is overwhelming.

  I meet her thrust for thrust, listening to her little moans.

  She can read me like a book because as I get close to exploding, she increases her force.

  “Jada, I’m gonna lose it.”

  “Lose it.”

  I grip her hips and pull her down, feeling every fucking nerve in my body burst. Energy zaps through me, head to toe, rendering me useless. My body shakes, my sight blurred by a barrage of colors.

  She sits on me, rocking her hips around, milking my orgasm.

  When I finally open my eyes, she’s looking at me. I want to say something, but I don’t, because I’m smart enough to know when not to trust myself.

  Instead, I wrap my arm around her waist and lay her beside me. I pull her close and rest my head on her chest.

  “See?” I say, yawning.

  “See what?”

  “I know everything.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Was that not the best fight we’ve ever had?”

  “I think I’m going to have to say no just so you don’t start fights with me.”

  I chuckle and kiss her neck.
“I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

  She doesn’t answer. I look at her and her eyes are closed, her chest moving slowly. I kiss the top of her head and pull the sheet over us.

  “Sweet dreams, beautiful girl.”

  JADA

  I’m blissed out.

  My body is relaxed, my mind beautifully washed from any stress or lingering effects of the past few weeks. I don’t feel the tightness in my shoulders that I’ve been experiencing and the low-grade headache is gone. I expected it to be worse this morning after all the wine last night, but I was surprised to wake up feeling good. Great, even.

  The sun rays are hot against my skin. There’s a gentle breeze flirting by. It dances across the water of the pool, carrying the smell of chlorine and pop music from the speakers. I lay on the chaise, eyes closed, enjoying the peace.

  Cane’s hand rests on my stomach, the heat and weight of his skin startling me. I look to my side, to him lying on the chair next to me.

  He’s in a pair of white swim trunks, his skin a chiseled and tanned piece of perfection. He gives me his shy smile and it does to me what the sun cannot. I melt. For him.

  “You okay?” he asks, stroking my skin with his fingertips. They leave a trail of goosebumps despite the heat.

  “I’m great.”

  “You’re perfect.”

  “Stop!” Kari cuts in, her voice thick with sarcasm. “You’re gonna give her an ego to match yours!”

  My sister winks at me. She stands at the end of my lounge with her hand in Max’s. A couple walks behind them, the girl’s eye on Max. It makes sense . . . he does look like a cover model in his dark green trunks. His abs are rock solid, his golden skin showing each ripple of his muscular body. But sadly for the girl, Max doesn’t notice. His attention is focused solely on my sister in her dark blue bikini.

  “Oh, please,” Cane says, pulling his sunglasses down and looking at Kari over the top. “You’re the one with the ego the size of the Grand Fucking Canyon.”

  “Don’t. Don’t even start your shit with me, Cane Alexander,” Kari laughs.

  He laughs and sits up. “What do you wanna do today, Max?”

  They exchange a look that I can’t quite read, but I feel like I’m missing something. When Kari starts grinning, I’m sure of it.