Retreat To Me (The Retreat Series Book 1)

by Christina Benjamin

  His hands roved to her back, brushing her shoulder blades—as delicate as a bird’s. He dipped her back, holding her weight easily in his powerful arms as his mouth moved lower, kissing and sucking past the hollow spot between her collarbones. Cassidy submitted to him, unbuttoning her shirt—inviting him in as she exposed a perfect strip of ivory skin, arching her body to meet his.

  Thomas kissed her, deeper still as she untied his robe and wrapped her legs around his waist. He shivered as she grabbed his throbbing length and guided him in. She was a pool of desire as he entered her. Heat exploded within him as she moved on him slowly—ever so slowly. Thomas could have sworn the earth stopped. His blood roared in his ears drowning out everything but her. He heard nothing, saw nothing. Only her. She was everything. Made for him. A gift from heaven.

  Beads of sweat rolled down Thomas’s chest as Cassidy slid against him, guiding him, trusting him—her soft moans urging him on. He pushed her onto her back and plunged in and out—slow and hard. Every thrust deliciously tight as she clenched firmly around him.

  Thomas swore as Cassidy began to unravel, an ache building rapidly within his throbbing length. He never wanted this moment to end but he was hanging onto the edge of a cliff by his fingernails. Cassidy pressed her forehead against his, her eyes open wide. She nodded and let him take over. He gripped her hips, thrusting deep into her, writhing until they shattered apart. He pinned her tightly beneath him as he spilled into her—both of them shuddering, clinging to each other until they’d wrung themselves dry.

  In the fading firelight, Cassidy murmured incoherently. Release had drugged them with a sweet exhaustion. Limbs limp and entwined, Thomas sighed, his breathing finally returning to normal. He tightened his arms around Cassidy, loving the way she fit to him—her back to his chest, rising and falling together as if this was natural. As if they’d always been. He smoothed her hair, loving the silky lavender scent of it. Thomas kissed the crown of her head lightly and drifted off to sleep, holding her supple body tightly to him, imprinting this moment in his heart.

  Chapter 21

  Cassidy

  Cassidy awoke warm and secure, wrapped in a sheltered cocoon of Thomas. They were still nestled on the floor in front of the glowing embers that clung to life in the fireplace. The room glowed with bright morning light. They’d slept late and with a sudden awareness, Cassidy realized she’d slept soundly, without a single nightmare. And when she had awoke . . . she knew right where she was. Safe—in Thomas’s arms, not lost in between past and present.

  A foreign feeling took hold in Cassidy’s chest . . . a spark of something she never thought she’d feel again. For the first time since she could remember she felt settled. Like all the broken floating pieces of her soul that she could never quite hold together had suddenly clicked into place—order restored.

  Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as she threaded her fingers with Thomas’s—tracing the delicate scars on his hands. Her chest swelled with the long-absent glimmer she thought she’d never feel again. She clung to the flicker of hope guttering deep within her. It could give her something to live for. It could change everything.

  Thomas’s deep voice rumbled through Cassidy as he stirred, kissing her shoulder while he murmured a sweet greeting against her skin. “Morning, angel.”

  She turned in his arms to face him. His dimpled smile made her insides hum. Her face flushed and she couldn’t help but grin back at him like a fool. “Good morning,” she whispered.

  “I’d say,” he grinned running his fingers gently through her wild hair. He followed the dark, silken strands to where they ended, falling over her heavy breasts. They ached for his touch, and when his knuckle grazed her nipple she forgot how to breathe—hot desire pooling at her core. His fingers stilled, hesitating, waiting for her to arch into them—offering herself as she had last night. His thumb brushed a slow, lazy circle around her nipple and she shivered.

  Cassidy glowed as the tiny flicker within her burst into a raging flame.

  Chapter 22

  Thomas

  Thomas stilled when Cassidy quaked. His mind flew, jumping to all kinds of terrible thoughts. Did she regret last night? Did seeing him in the light of day make her want to take it back? Did she think it was a mistake? He wouldn’t blame her. She was so incredibly far out of his league. So vibrant. Not someone a farm boy with a scarred up face and a failing music career could ever deserve.

  As if she could sense the panic in his heart, Cassidy’s hand found his. She threaded their fingers and pressed them to her lips, kissing his scarred hand so softly. And when she lifted her lips and looked up at him through those thick, sultry lashes, she was smiling. A full, true smile. It cracked something loose in Thomas’s heart. She looked so different, like she finally let go of the pretenses that she hid behind and let her true beauty shine through, just for him to see.

  It floored him. He’d always known she was gorgeous, desirable even at her worst. But now . . . he had no words. He saw music in her smile and hope in her bright blue eyes.

  “My god,” he whispered. “You are exquisite.”

  Cassidy grinned wider, her hand finding his chest, idly stroking down . . . down. An ache instantly built in Thomas. All of his focus narrowing to where Cassidy’s hand was headed. The first brush of her fingers across his blazing shaft sent it twitching. He hissed as she wrapped her fingers around the hard length of him, massaging her thumb over his tip until she made him slick with his own desire.

  She pressed herself against him. Groaning when his hardness greeted her. She teased, settling on him, but never all the way. Always pulling back. His blood sang. Thomas was near blind with desire by her wetness for him. But a nagging thought made him pause.

  “Wait,” he panted breathlessly.

  His ego roared. Shut up, you stupid bastard.

  But he had to know. He had to know if last night meant something—if this moment meant something. Because it meant everything to him. He felt like he’d finally taken his first breath. That until the moment Cassidy’s lips breathed life into him he’d been living underwater. And if that was all he’d be allowed—one night of perfect ecstasy—he needed to know now. And stop this before anymore damage was done . . . to either of them. Because Thomas didn’t imagine for a single moment that feeling like this, full of such frenzied desire, was without consequences. And he couldn’t taste any more of the sweet unbridled freedom Cassidy brought to his heart if it would be taken away from him when this stay was over.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes so blue he thought he could fall in and drown.

  “This . . .” he paused. “Is this . . . am I what you want?”

  Cassidy stilled. An unreadable calm settled on her face. She blinked, once, twice. The only sound in the room was their hitched breathing as she raised a trembling hand to touch Thomas’s face.

  A sharp bang filled the room before she could touch him, startling them apart. The banging continued. Three more sharp rasps pounded before Thomas’s mind snapped to reality. Knocking. Someone was knocking on the front door.

  “Shit,” he muttered. Jumping to his feet Thomas shrugged on his robe.

  Cassidy stood, clutching the blanket to herself like a frightened child. “Who the hell is here?”

  “I’ll go find out.”

  Her hand caught his and squeezed. “Be careful,” she whispered. A lingering fear filled her eyes. They were dark as midnight again.

  Chapter 23

  Cassidy

  Cassidy heard car doors slam. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she moved toward the window. She heard male voices outside and pulled back a section of the lace curtains to peek through. A flash blinded her and she shrieked, stumbling back. Her heart pounded as her mind filled in the surreal images she’d seen in the split second before the flash bulb. Cars, men, cameras! The press was here. And they’d just flashed a photograph of her peeking out of the cottage in nothing but a blanket! Her mind reeled. Why on ear
th would there be press in the yard? Was it the local paper? Did they think Cassidy broke into the house? Would Helen lose her job?

  Panic flooded Cassidy as she closed the curtains tight and moved to the door to listen to the voices coming from the kitchen.

  Thomas’s voice rang through the house. “What is the meaning of this?”

  A muffled response.

  Thomas spoke again. “Yes, sir. I understand but . . . Yes, of course. Come in. Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Cassidy rushed around Thomas’s room shrugging on a warm sweater she found hanging over the back of a chair. Her boney shoulder stuck out the large neck and it hung to her knees, but it would have to do. She returned to her spot by the door, her ear pressed to it, to hear the conversation taking place in the kitchen.

  “Merle Cranston, WOR radio management.”

  “Good morning. I . . . I’m sorry for my informal attire. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Apparently not. But no matter.”

  “How can I help you, sir?”

  “Well, son. It seems you’ve made quite a name for yourself. I barely made it through the gauntlet of press out there. You’ve become an overnight sensation.”

  “Mr. Cranston, I’m sorry. I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

  “Please, call me Merle. And I mean your little radio show is a huge hit.”

  “My music?”

  Gruff laughter floated down the hall. “I think you know it’s more than the music that’s grabbed America’s attention, son.” More laughter. “You sly devil, where’s she hiding?”

  “Who?”

  “That minx of an actress you hired to liven up your variety show. She’s brilliant! I must meet her.”

  Cassidy’s stomach dropped. Variety show? What had Thomas broadcast? Her brash behavior flashed through her mind. Her words, her writing, their intimate moments. Was it all an act? Part of some show?

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cranston, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh please, you can drop the act. We’re not mad. Quite the opposite actually. You’re little lover’s drama with Miss Cassidy Clark has put WOR on the map!”

  Dread spread quickly from her core. They had her name. Her full name. Everyone would know her voice. Her mother. Her stepfather. Jacob’s family! She felt ill.

  “Our audience has increased ten fold ever since you started reading your little love scripts. And letting her seduce you like that on air? Pure genius, son. I’ll admit it was a risky move, but I think you’ll be happy with how it has paid off.”

  Silence echoed down the hall, filling Cassidy with cold horror.

  “I’m here to offer you both my representation and a prime time studio contract. You can come back from your hideaway. Your exile’s over, son. You’re in the limelight now.”

  Cassidy had heard enough. She was shaking . . . with rage . . . with embarrassment . . . and most of all, betrayal. She flung the door open and ran to the staircase, sprinting toward the sullen safety of the attic.

  Chapter 24

  Thomas

  Thomas heard the attic door slam shut and his heart dropped. Cassidy must have overheard them and now . . . now what would she think? That this whole thing between them—whatever it was—was a sham?

  His chest constricted.

  Thomas rose to his full height from his chair at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry, but I think you should leave, Mr. Cranston.”

  Cranston ignored Thomas. “Was that our little starlet? Where is she? I simply must see the face that goes with that divine voice.” He winked “I bet her mouth is as lovely as it sounds, am I right?”

  Mr. Cranston started to move down the hall, but Thomas cut him off, puffing out his chest. “Do not speak about her in that manner.” He growled the words out through his clenched jaw, his fist twitching at his side. Thomas wanted nothing more than to knock the smug smile from the wrinkled radio executive’s face.

  Cranston laughed. “Ah, so you’re smitten with her after all. She must be a vixen.”

  Thomas glared at him. The old man merely grinned and pulled an envelope from inside his suit jacket. “Fine, I don’t need to meet her just yet, but I will need signatures.”

  Thomas unfolded the paper and scanned the confusing legal document. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cranston. I’m at a loss.”

  “Hard ball then? What other network has made you an offer?”

  “Offer? What exactly are you offering?”

  “WOR has authorized me to pay you and that racy gal of yours a generous sum for the exclusive rights to continue your soap opera for the next two years.”

  “Continue? But I don’t understand. I’ve only been broadcasting my music for an hour each day, just as I was instructed. This isn’t a soap opera. I know that Miss Clark may have accidentally interrupted a time or two, but it was an honest mistake. I don’t see what she has to do with this. And frankly, I don’t think she’ll be interested in any sort of radio contract.”

  The devious smile that spread across Mr. Cranston’s face unnerved Thomas. “So you mean to tell me that this wasn’t scripted. The drama between you and Miss Clark is . . . genuine?”

  Thomas swallowed the tightness in his throat and nodded.

  Cranston’s rasping laughter echoed down the hall. “This is too good.”

  Thomas could barely keep a lid on his anger as Mr. Cranston pushed passed him peering into his recording room. “So this is where the magic happens?” Cranston raised his eyebrows and gestured to the room. “May I?”

  Thomas nodded but the arrogant executive was already striding into the room. After a brief examination of the setup he moved to the switchboard above the recording reel. He turned a dial back and forth, its dull click causing him to smile.

  Cranston turned back to Thomas. “So you really didn’t know this is a hot room?”

  “A hot room?”

  An ugly sneer crossed Cranston’s weathered face. “Everything you say in this room is sent across the wire to the studio.” He smiled again. “Everything.”

  Thomas’s stomach knotted. “No. Gene explained it to me. I hit the recording reel and switched ON AIR just for the hour I’m live. And . . .” his mind was racing. “And I hit mute when Miss Clark interrupted. You can’t have heard much of anything.”

  “Yes, you’re absolutely correct. That’s how you broadcast live, but a hot room means that you constantly broadcast to the recording reel at the studio. And we captured every scintillating detail.”

  Ice raced through Thomas’s veins. “No . . .”

  “That’s right. We have a live feed to every sound in this room. And for the past two weeks that means we’ve been listening in on your little love affair. And let me tell you, your listeners are off the charts thanks to Miss Clark’s lewd antics. So when you ran over into our variety show airtime we let you. Then, after your ratings spiked, we clipped, edited and broadcast all your other conversations and . . .” he cleared his throat. “Shall I say, interactions?”

  Nausea roiled in Thomas’s stomach. He put a steadying hand on the piano.

  Cranston continued. “The entirety of your heartfelt affair has been played for the public’s enjoyment.”

  “You had no right—”

  “And you had no right to take over Gene’s contract at this house.” Cranston bellowed. The two men stared each other down. “The best you can hope for now is to sign this contract and legitimize these recordings,” Cranston sneered. “Otherwise WOR will sue you for impersonation and you’ll be responsible for paying back every second of airtime. And I know for a fact you can’t afford that.”

  Thomas stared at the contract in his hand. It wrinkled in his white-knuckled grip. His heart pounded in his ears.

  He knew it. He should have never accepted Gene’s plea to cover for him. Thomas was in way over his head.

  Cranston’s gruff voice filled the room as he shoved a pen into Thomas’s hand. “Don’t look so glum, kid. This is good news. You made
it big. You’ll see once the shock wears off.”

  “What about my music?” Thomas asked scanning the cramped legal jargon.

  “What about it?”

  “You haven’t said anything about my music. And I don’t see anything in the contract about it. That’s why I came here. For my music, not a soap opera career.”

  Cranston waved a dismissing hand. “This is just the standard legal deal regarding representation. We’ll work out the finer points later. Just stick with me kid and you’ll get to play your music for the world. And you’ll get a hefty salary too.”

  Thomas heard his mother’s voice in his head as he gripped the pen, leaning over the contract. He could do it for her. This had all been for her anyway. So her dream could finally come true—her son’s music heard by the world.

  Thomas closed his eyes, fighting against the stinging tears. If this was for his mother, then why did it feel so wrong? This wasn’t how he wanted to achieve success. And how was he going to explain this to Cassidy? But what other choice did he have? He didn’t have the means to fight a lawsuit with a radio station.

  He took a deep breath and forced his hand steady as he signed his name on the line that Cranston’s stubby finger pointed to.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Cranston crooned.

  Thomas wanted to jam the pen into Cranston’s flabby throat as a disturbing realization settled in. Thomas was now owned. For the next two years, this man, and WOR owned him. But his music would be broadcast around the world. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? Thomas tried to cling to that thought as his pulse throbbed in his ears.