by Lexi Ryan
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’ll come with you.”
He grins. Holy shit that looks good on him. “You need sleep,” he says.
“Didn’t you brush me off with that line once already today?”
Dipping his head to nuzzle the side of my neck, he groans. “I’m not brushing you off, sweetheart.” His hands skim down my sides and back up before he steps away. “I’m trying to be thoughtful.”
Damn. He’s unreal. “I couldn’t possibly fall asleep.”
“Why not?”
“Because I . . .” I nearly back out of that sentence, but he holds my gaze, demanding the rest. I take a breath, press my hand to his chest, and whisper, “Because I ache.”
His nostrils flare and his chest rises as he draws in a deep breath. “Tell me where.” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “Show me.”
“Everywhere.” I lead his hand to drag across my breasts. “Here.” Then lower until his fingers skim the low waistband of my skirt. “Down there.”
As he curls his fingers into my skirt, he presses his mouth to mine.
Then his phone rings.
Cade tears his mouth away, cursing. “Hold that thought.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and answers with a terse “Yeah?” but he never takes his eyes off me.
I slowly shimmy out of my skirt then pull my shirt overhead. I can’t wear a bra with that one, so that leaves me in front of him in nothing but my panties. Holding his gaze, I lie on the bed and trail my fingertips over my bare stomach.
“Nothing?” Cade asks, and I feel a little bit of pride at the hitch in his gravelly voice.
I trail my fingers to the waistband of my panties and watch his nostrils flare. He licks his lips and I slide my hand lower, skimming my center through my panties. I can’t believe I’m doing this, and yet it feels natural. He makes me feel bold. Uninhibited. He makes me the brazen woman my husband wished I would be. But I couldn’t be like this with Tom. I was too self-conscious with him.
“Right. Got it.” Cade swallows hard, and takes half a step toward me before stopping himself. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll touch base before we fly. Thanks, brother.” He punches at his screen then drops the phone to the end table before coming for me. At the side of the bed, he leans over me and kisses me hard.
When he pulls away, I’m breathless, and the ache between my legs has spread to consume every inch of me. He takes a step back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt what you were doing, but I had to kiss you.”
“You didn’t interrupt a thing.”
He arches a brow and shifts his gaze to the lace between my legs. “I liked watching you touch yourself.”
The words steal my breath. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I wasn’t actually . . .” My cheeks burn. I was just trying to be sexy. Did he think I was going to masturbate in front of him?
“Why are you embarrassed now? I like watching you in general, but the sight of you damn near naked on that bed, your hand between your legs, is one of the top two sexiest things I’ve ever seen.”
“What’s the other?”
The corner of his mouth twitches into a lopsided grin. “Do you have to ask?”
Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s Cara or someone else, and maybe I shouldn’t want to know, but I do. I want to know everything about what turns Cade on. For as long as I get him, I want to be everything that turns him on and gets him off. “Tell me.”
“The sight of you on your knees.” His voice drops to a whisper even though we’re all alone. “Your cheeks flushed and your mouth stretched around my dick while you took me deep.”
“Oh.” Wow. The mouth on this man. “So, it was . . . okay?”
He tilts his head and studies me as if he’s trying to figure something out, but if he has a question, he doesn’t ask it. Instead, he strips down to his boxer briefs and climbs onto the bed. He hovers over me, his weight on his arms. “You’re nothing like I expected.”
“Since I know what you expect of actresses, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I’m sorry if I was a dick when I found out about the cameras.”
“And then a bigger dick when you found out about Matthew.”
“Yes. That.” Sighing, he buries his face in the crook of my neck. “I hate that motherfucker.”
Giggling, I draw my knees up so they’re each on either side of his hips. He’s hard again, and—thank you, sweet baby Jesus—his cock nestles between my legs. “Oh, I think everyone hates Matt at least a little. He’s the devil.”
He groans and cups one breast in his big hand. “I don’t want to talk about Matthew Hailey right now.”
I lift my hips off the bed and roll them experimentally. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Fuck, sweetheart. I don’t want to talk at all.” He kisses my neck then slides down my body, running hot open-mouthed kisses to my shoulder, across my collarbone, and to the valley between my breasts. “I just want to touch you, to hear you, to make you come.”
When he sucks a nipple into his mouth, I arch off the bed and drive my hands into his hair. He keeps his cock pressed firmly between my legs and I rock against him, greedy with need.
“Tell me how to get you off tonight,” he says. “Do you want my hands or my mouth?”
“More.” I roll my hips again and moan. “Please.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and grips my hips hard, stilling my movements. “Do you want to stay like this?” he says breathlessly. “Rub against each other and get off like a couple of teenagers?”
His words are almost as good as his hands, but I want more. I whimper, and he hears it.
“Tell me,” he says.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with telling your lover what you need.”
My lover. That is what I want. I want this man to be my lover in every sense of the word. For as long as I can have him. I swallow hard and lock my gaze on his. “I need you inside me.”
“Christ,” he hisses, closing his eyes. “I want that too.”
“So, why—” That’s when it registers, and I nearly scream in frustration. “We don’t have a condom?”
“Unless you’ve got one stashed somewhere,” he says. “This wasn’t exactly what I had planned when I came to LA.” His eyelids are heavy, his lips parted. He rises onto his knees, positioning himself between my feet at the end of the bed. Slowly, he pulls off my panties and throws them to the floor. “Maybe I was wrong.”
“About what?”
“I think we should talk.” He slides a hand behind each of my knees, opening me to his greedy gaze.
“Talk? I thought . . .” I have to press my head back into the pillow as he traces the center of my exposed sex with one finger. My body pulses. Instinctively, I squeeze my legs together and he guides them wide again. “You’re sure you want to talk?” I ask.
“I’m sure,” he says. “Maybe I should tell you exactly what I’m going to do to you when I get you home. Maybe I should tell you all the ways I’m going to fuck you when I finally get the chance.” His gaze flicks up to mine, and he watches my face as he slides two fingers inside me.
I cry out at the intrusion. It’s too much at first and then just perfect as he slowly works his fingers in and out of me. “Yes,” I whimper.
“I want you spread out on my bed—on your back with your ankles on my shoulders, then I’ll roll you on your knees and see how deep you can take me.”
I rock my hips into his hand and murmur “please,” but I don’t know what I’m begging for. More of his touch? More of his dirty mouth? The very scene he’s describing?
“Some lazy night in, I’ll fuck you on the couch. You’ll straddle me, and I’ll watch your tits bounce as you ride me. You have perfect fucking tits. I want to bury my face in them while you slide up and down my cock. I want to suck on them until you come.”
He reaches up with his free hand, skimming my nipple with his rough fingert
ips, and my hips jerk. My body’s on fire. I’m seconds from falling apart. “Cade.”
“I’d need you in the shower too.” His voice has gone hoarse, but he keeps talking as he fucks me with his fingers. “I’ll push into you from behind, my hands on your breasts.” He pinches my nipple then rolls it between his fingers. “I’d listen for your moans as I teased your nipples. Could you come like that? Or would you need me to touch you here?” He dips his head and flicks my clit with his tongue.
My body shudders under his touch, and he does it again—a single swipe of his tongue along my clit. And it’s too much and not enough, and I want to scream in frustration because my body is climbing, ready for that fall, but I can’t quite—
“Fuck, I love your taste.” He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, and that’s when it happens. I scream. My hips buck. Every muscle in my body lets go.
But I don’t fall. I fly.
* * *
Cade
“Where are you going?” Janelle reaches for me as I climb out of bed.
I mean to keep moving, to pull my jeans on and answer the door, but when I turn back to her, I have to pause for a minute.
The knock sounds again, but damn. I can’t pull myself away from the sight of her.
“Who’s at the door?” she mumbles, squinting against the morning sun.
Half her long, dark hair is still in a ponytail that’s fallen to the side of her head and the other half is splayed across the pillow in every direction. Except for the thin white sheet tangled around her legs, she’s nude, and I mentally catalogue every spot I touched last night, every place I tasted and want to taste again. Her lips are swollen from my mouth, and there’s a faint trail of beard burn between her breasts.
Her hand goes to her hair. “Oh my God! I’m a wreck!”
I grin. “Total wreck.” And the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Squealing, she treats me to a new view—her ass as she runs to the bathroom. “Just let me wash up.”
Only after she shuts the door and I can hear running water in the sink do I finally pull on my jeans and turn back to the persistent knocking.
We spent the night sleeping and touching in cycles. Every time I woke, I was hungrier for her. I would have given my left nut for a condom. Once, when I woke to her rubbing her ass against my cock, I almost suggested we go ahead without. Which is only further evidence that she makes me lose my mind. Luckily, I came to my senses before the question could pass my lips.
After another round of knocking, I yank open the door and find Tom Comer in the hallway.
After last night, seeing him here is the worst kind of punch in the nuts. “He was my husband first.”
Every muscle in my body coils with tension, but I keep my face blank. “What?”
He glares at me, his hands fidgeting at his sides. His hair’s mussed and his he has dark circles under his eyes. “I need to talk to Janelle. She’s not answering her phone.”
Sometimes I wish I were an asshole. Because right now, an asshole would tell this piece of shit how it is. Something like, She didn’t have time to talk to you. She was too busy coming on my face. I respect Janelle too much to say it, but it would feel really fucking good to see his reaction. I don’t know much about Tom, and what I do know comes from his exchange with Janelle at the precinct and Janelle’s insecurities in bed. Maybe it’s not much to go on, but it’s enough for me to be sure he doesn’t deserve her.
He lifts onto his toes to look over my shoulder. “I know she’s here.”
He shouldn’t. No one is supposed to know—not our hotel and definitely not our fucking room number. I picked this hotel because I know the head of security and tipped the staff handsomely to keep our presence a secret.
“Just let me in,” Tom says.
“Why?”
“Tom?”
I spin to Janelle standing behind me. Her face is shiny and freshly scrubbed. Her hair’s been brushed, and it falls in soft waves down the back of her robe.
“There you are!” Tom steps into the room. I want to grab him by the neck and drag him back out, but I resist the urge and choose to study Janelle’s reaction to him instead.
She’s stiff, as if she’s just as surprised to see him as I am. She looks from Tom to me and back to Tom. “What are you doing here?”
Tom turns to me. “May I speak with my wife alone?”
“She’s not your wife anymore.” I try for matter-of-fact, but the words come out like a growl from an angry dog.
He nods and returns his gaze to Janelle. “And I regret that every day.”
Janelle winces. “Tom—”
“I told Bella this morning that I couldn’t do it anymore,” he says. “Knowing you’re in danger has made me realize what really matters. I left her. I mean it this time. I won’t let you go through this alone. Stay with me. Let me take care of you.”
Chapter 10
Janelle
I blink at Tom before turning to Cade, whose expression has gone ice cold, a stark contrast to the warmth in his eyes just minutes ago.
Is this seriously happening? Maybe last night with Cade was some long, extended dream, and this is the part where the fantasy turns into a twisted nightmare.
“Janelle,” Tom says, “what are you doing?” His frown is directed at where I’m pinching my arm.
Definitely not dreaming. I clear my throat. “Cade, could Tom and I speak in private? Please?”
When Cade turns his dark eyes on me, I realize I was wrong. There’s no coldness in his expression. Instead, it’s blank, and his eyes are vacant, as if he’s thrown up a wall between his face and everything happening in his head. I won’t let myself think about what might be happening in his heart.
“We just need a few minutes,” I say.
“I need to head in to the precinct.” Cade looks to Tom and a hint of hardness returns to his jaw. “My guy Davis will keep an eye on things while I’m gone. He’ll be waiting outside the door.” He leaves it at that, and I’m not sure what the implication is. That Davis won’t let me leave, or just a heads-up that he’s supposed to be there?
“Davis?” I ask.
“You met him yesterday. I put him up in the room next door and have him on call.”
“The babysitter,” I mutter. “Right.”
Something twitches in Cade’s jaw, but he grabs a shirt from his bag. He pulls it over his head, covering all ninety feet of his bare, broad shoulders. “Have a nice . . . talk.” He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and he’s gone. And even though I’m the one who asked for privacy, even though I know I can’t have this conversation with Cade looking on, I can’t help but feel a tinge like I’ve been abandoned.
I don’t turn back to Tom until the door clicks closed behind Cade. “What was that?”
Tom shifts from one foot to the other and shrugs. “I think he’s mad about me coming here.”
“Not Cade. You. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Showing up like this? Saying those things in front of my—”
“Your what?” Tom asks.
Oh hell. That’s a good question. “My boyfriend.” I lift my chin, owning the lie.
“You still want me to believe you’re with that guy? Come on, Elle. I know this city. I know the game you’re playing. And I know you were at the HiLo with Matthew Hailey last night. Doesn’t take a genius to add it all up.” He cocks his head and gives me that annoying gotcha grin before pointing to the seating area behind me. “And if I had any doubts, the sheets and pillows around the couch would give you two away.”
I draw in a deep breath and exhale slowly. Cade may have shared the bed with me last night, but we never cleaned up the evidence of where he slept yesterday morning.
“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says. “I’m on your side.”
“I’m not going to stand here and explain my relationship with Cade to you.” Not that I could if I wanted to. I’d have to understand it myself first.
“Don’t you understa
nd? That”—he points to the couch again—“is the evidence that you two aren’t sleeping together? It’s a goddamn relief.” Tom walks forward and takes my hand. “When he kissed you yesterday, I felt like he was ripping my insides out. You’re mine, Janelle. I want you back.” He dips his head, lowering his mouth to mine, but I step away before he can kiss me.
“No.” Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Why does he insist on playing games with my head?
Tom holds up his hands. “I get it. You’ve gone to all this trouble to convince Helen that you’re with the cop so she won’t boot you off the film.”
“How do you know about Helen?”
“Bella’s dad is friends with her and . . .” He shrugs. “People talk. But I get it. You’re worried how it will look if you’re suddenly with me again.”
That hadn’t even occurred to me. “You think that’s my biggest worry?” I shake my head. “You had me believing you’d left her. I kissed you and started planning our lives together again. You made me look like a home-wrecking slut to the whole world.”
“I’m sorry about how that unraveled. If I could do it over, I’d have gotten you somewhere private before kissing you.”
I study the floor. He would have gotten me somewhere private—not he would have left Bella like he said he had. Not he wouldn’t have lied. “If you really want to leave your wife, leave her. Get a divorce and make it final. Then—and only then—will we talk.”
“If your plan is to come back to me once I have some divorce papers, why wait?”
That isn’t my plan, but a week ago, it would have been. If Tom had shown me divorce papers, I would have been in his bed that night. And suddenly that seems so pathetic to me. This man broke my heart and my trust, and I would have gone back to him so easily just so he could do it all over again.
Things are different now. Not because of Cade and our non-relationship, but because of what my short time with him has made me feel. Even in his bossiest, most Neanderthal moments, Cade makes me feel special. Valued. Not just a possession to be protected, but a woman to be cherished.