Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I blinked at our reflections in the glass, Devlin bent over me, his arms around me. His lips on my cheek. We looked damn good together. Still.
I’d sewn my heart, my chest, back together when he’d left, but I’d done a piss-poor job. The threads were snapping the longer I stood in his arms.
“But this… not having you. That’s even worse.” His voice cracked.
I shut my eyes, understanding that the sadness I saw swimming in his eyes, the mask of anger and the way he pushed me away, was for me.
“You want a future and I want to give you one,” he said, and another seam snapped on my heart. “I know you don’t need me, but is it possible for you to still… want me?”
There was so much doubt in his voice I turned to face him. What I saw in his seeking gaze floored me. I hoped I could trust what I thought I saw.
“That depends,” I said, not trusting my voice, either.
Devlin’s eyebrows bent, worry crowding out the sadness in his eyes. “On?”
I put my hand over his on the tie of my robe. “On what you mean by a future.”
The very corner of his lips tipped and he blew out a soft breath. “Fuck, I knew I’d screw this up.”
“You haven’t.” I touched his face gently. “Not yet.”
He had a hard time sharing. A hard time admitting his weaknesses. And why shouldn’t he? After being left behind by everyone. His mom ran off, only to return with a half brother she never told Devlin about. His father checked out and left Devlin an orphan. Paul hadn’t exactly been a stellar role model lately, either.
“I, uh—” A self-effacing grin sent his gaze flitting around the room. “Wow. How’d you say it? How’d you do that when you weren’t sure what I’d say back?”
He meant the I love you. I brushed his hair away from his eyes. My voice was barely a whisper. “Because it was true. And life’s too short to hold back how you feel. No matter the consequences.”
He’d had his eyes on me since I started talking. “I’ve never been in love before.” He cleared his throat, his arms going stiff in his cold leather jacket. “Not until I fell in love with you. I wasn’t sure I could trust it. Couldn’t even pay you a compliment, for Christ’s sake. I’m not sure why you love me at all, and half of me thinks this is a really bad idea since you deserve a hell of a lot better.”
I palmed his cheek and couldn’t help smiling.
His smile was crooked. “I love you, Rena. Being away from you is like having my soul torn out. I have my life back from Sonny but without you this doesn’t feel like freedom. I’m locked in a cage, and baby, you’re holding the key.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“Tasha said I should get on my knees and beg.” Then he lowered to his knees in front of me while I stared down at him in shock. “I understand you don’t need me. And I will understand if you don’t love me anymore. But if you give me another shot, I swear to God I will earn that love back or die trying.”
Now I was crying.
“Where’s my bad boy? The one who confused me and intrigued me?” I smiled, sniffled. “Tell me he’s still in there.” I raked my hands through his hair. “Not that I don’t love this down-on-your-knees-in-the-name-of-love move.”
“Yeah?” A fiery glint brightened his blue eyes.
I cupped his face with my hands. “I love you, too.”
He blinked several times like he was absorbing this information. Then he hugged me close, his head against my belly, his arms wrapped tight. He mumbled something into the material.
“What?” I asked, extracting his head.
“I said”—he undid the knot on my robe—“your bad boy’s still alive and well. And that you smell good enough to eat.”
He parted the robe and kissed my stomach before trailing his tongue lower and lower, past my folds while his hands cupped my ass. He licked and sucked. Head tilted back, robe open, a moan left my throat.
He loved me.
He loved me.
He’d changed on the inside, but on the outside, his rough and tumble hadn’t gone anywhere. I was glad. He was still the guy who could turn me on barely trying. And now he was really trying. He kissed a path along my stomach and up to my chest where he placed a peck on the tip of each nipple.
“I want to try something.” He wore a wicked smirk on his lips.
“What’s that?” But I’d say yes no matter what he asked.
“I want to be inside you, make you come,” he started, his delightfully dirty words turning me on more, “and tell you I love you over and over during. And I want to give it to you hard.” He kissed my mouth. “Fast.” He licked my top lip and murmured, “And so sweet you can’t fucking stand it.”
I kissed the smile off his face and looped my arms around his neck. My naked body pressed against his, his belt buckle cold on my tummy. We kissed our way down the hall to my bedroom, and once we were there he threw me on the bed where he entered me, made me come, and told me he loved me. It was hard and fast, and it was also sweet.
But he was wrong about one thing.
I could fucking stand it.
For, say, another fifty or sixty years…
Don’t miss the exciting ending to the Lost Boys duology! Keep reading for a peek at Craving Caden…
Craving Caden Preview
Craving Caden - Prologue
Caden
When I woke up in the hospital room, fuzzy from pain meds and disoriented, you’d think the first thing on my mind would be my memory of the accident. The exploding glass and the sound of my car, Blue, crumpling around me. Eerie silence and the warm, sticky ooze of blood sliding down my face.
You’d be wrong.
My first thought was on the blonde hovering over me. Her big blue eyes, her full mouth, and the look of concern on her face.
At first sight, Tasha Montgomery drowned out the pain thumping inside me like too much bass on a speaker. I never wanted her to see me as weak. Fragile and needing taken care of. Hell, once upon a time I approached her with cocky confidence, assuming she’d say yes to my idiotic advances.
Nothing like a knock on the head to bring your former stupidity to a screeching halt.
Where once she’d avoided me because I was an asshole, now she doted thanks to the accident that’d robbed me of my voice.
I couldn’t say I liked that better.
Craving Caden - Chapter 1
Tasha
I parked my BMW in the Wilson driveway, cutting the engine and sighing in resignation. The garage door was open and two tennis shoes poked out from beneath a pale blue vintage car.
The shoes belonged to my “patient,” Caden Wilson. Cade, as he was known to his friends. I called him Cade too, though I’m not exactly sure he’d consider me his friend. I wasn’t sure what we were.
I stepped out of my own vehicle, tugging my short jean skirt as my sparkly flats hit the concrete driveway. The moment the snow had thawed, I had been filled with gratitude that winter was over. Much as I loved my boots, I was a spring girl. New beginnings and fresh starts and all that.
I debated for a second before leaning back into the driver’s side and grabbing my backpack from the passenger seat. Cade hated this pack because it represented the work he had to do to regain his speech. I was here to help. I had a job to do. If he didn’t see it that way, it wasn’t my problem.
After his accident, I filled in as his physical therapist when he’d fired every other therapist who came his way. He hadn’t let me do much before and allowed me to do almost nothing now. His physical injuries were no longer an issue.
Cade’s problem was with his tongue.
I wasn’t a speech therapist, but Cade’s father didn’t care about titles. As long as Cade was willing to work with me, Paul Wilson wanted me around. Paul and I spent a lot of hours next to Cade’s hospital bed those first few days. I had witnessed the accident that night, and every instinct told me that Cade needed a friend to wake up to. When most of his
friends bailed, since street racing was illegal and an ambulance plus cops had been on the way, that left me as his only friend.
Paul was grateful I’d stayed. He’d been my father’s accountant for years, so I’d seen him around even before our rendezvous at the hospital. Mine and Cade’s past wasn’t peachy, but knowing he was hurting, I couldn’t walk away.
So I didn’t.
I was also pulling an internship over at Ridgeway Rehabilitation Institute. I’d been there a few months and I enjoyed it. I was good at it according to my instructor, and I was working with patients who didn’t hate me, so that was a plus. By summer, I planned to start my career and obtain a PTA position.
Working with Cade was a blip on that otherwise wide-spanning radar. Soon I’d be on to bigger and better things. Or so I told myself.
I took a deep breath, about to announce my arrival, but then someone else did it for me.
“Hey, Tasha.” My best friend’s boyfriend, in all his tall, dark, suited beauty, appeared in the garage, bag on his shoulder.
Devlin Calvary. He was also Cade’s half brother, an unforeseen twist that had surprised them both.
Devlin adjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder. He was dressed for work in a suit, a blue tie arrowing down to an expensive leather belt. He was the owner of a high-end restaurant, which was why he dressed to impress. He might be wily, but since he’d fallen for my best friend, he’d become . . . well, not tamed. But there was a light air around him that hadn’t existed before they met. Since this past winter they had been inseparable, which had changed Devlin for the better. Rena finally found the happiness she deserved. They’d brought out the best in each other, and that was what couples were supposed to do.
Devlin kicked his brother’s shoe. “Therapist is here.”
Cade didn’t respond. That wasn’t unusual.
“You are a glutton for punishment, Montgomery.” Devlin said when he was standing in front of me. His mouth twisted into a smirk—the one my best friend Rena favored.
“Yeah, yeah.”
His comment wasn’t venomous. He used to be a jerk. Now he was . . . different. Less intense. Getting used to him being cordial was an adjustment.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Devlin had lived here with Cade and Paul when he was younger, and then he’d returned to help after Cade’s accident. Recently Devlin had moved into Rena’s apartment. Their relationship had moved fast, I thought maybe too fast, but part of me conceded that a thick band of envy had clouded my judgment. I wasn’t proud of that ping of jealousy, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t there. At one point I had held out hope that my ex, Tony, might pursue our future together.
Boy, was I wrong.
“This is the last of my stuff,” Devlin said, thumb hooked under the strap on the bag hanging from his shoulder. “So...”
We glanced into the garage. Cade had one leg straight out, the other foot on the ground where he’d crooked a knee, but otherwise hadn’t moved out from under the car.
“Enjoy your session with Mr. Sunshine.” Devlin’s full lips pulled into a smile.
Okay, he was a looker, I’d give him that. Rena and Devlin suited each other. She wasn’t anything like me. She was a bad girl who played good. I was the last of the good girls, a type A, perfectionist only child who knew her place—who measured her value by how much she could achieve.
“Gee, thanks,” I answered, casting another look at Cade. The sound of a wrench cranking came from beneath the rust bucket he was under.
“Well.” Devlin pushed a hand through his medium-length black hair and flicked a glance to the upstairs window where Cade had spent nearly every waking and sleeping hour since his accident. “He’s outside, so there’s that.”
True. I wouldn’t have to climb the stairs to his dimly lit bedroom today.
“Good luck.” Devlin climbed into his SUV. I waved my thanks and watched as he backed out of the driveway.
Devlin and Cade had discovered last year that they were half brothers who shared a mother. I’d had to sit down and draw a flowchart to understand how that had happened. A lot of lies, as it turned out.
That development had intensified what Cade was going through. He’d learned his parentage was half fiction, and then he’d added in a car accident that had injured him and taken him out of college. He hadn’t been the most pleasant person before the injuries. Now, even less, though at least he wasn’t slicing me with that sharp tongue of his. Some days I was surprised I was trying to help him regain his speech. Maybe this time around he’d use his powers for good rather than evil.
Remember when I mentioned I was a type A perfectionist? My drive to be praised and in general do my best was a fire I started, and one happily stoked by my father. Nothing pleased him, but that was another story. I went into my field because I genuinely wanted to help people. Cade had given up on himself and his future, and my walking away from him would have almost guaranteed his future would be one in his bedroom playing video games and grunting every so often.
Not that I’d actually been “helping” him lately. We’d pretty much retreated into our neutral corners over the last month. But he was outside. Major progress. I took a deep breath and forced a smile.
“Good afternoon!” I chirped. The wrench sound ceased for a few seconds before starting up again. “Are we doing your session in the garage today?” There was an open toolbox and a few grease-covered rags on the ground. “The change of scenery is nice.”
No comment from my captive audience. I sighed.
Most of the time I felt like I was failing miserably, but I continued to show up and try, try again. At first I’d told myself it was a favor for Paul, and then later I’d told myself it was my own never-say-die attitude, but now I knew why I continued showing up and pushing him.
I did it for Cade.
We were running out of time. Soon I wouldn’t have a choice of “should I or shouldn’t I.” Graduation would lead to a state board exam which in turn would lead to a full-time-plus position. I’d be too busy to come over here and listen to myself talk.
I lifted one flat and kicked the sole of Cade’s shoe like Devlin had, backing up quickly when Cade rolled out from under the car on one of those low, wheeled carts mechanics use. The second his light brown eyes locked on mine, I froze.
He might be a royal pain in the ass, but it didn’t keep him from being the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen. I’d thought so since I first laid eyes on him at Ridgeway University. Despite our mutual dislike for each other, my appreciation of his fine-tuned biceps, tattoos cascading down one arm, and firm, wide shoulders hadn’t gone anywhere.
His lips compressed into a line as he stood, snatching up a rag and wiping his hands. He continued scowling at me. I think. I was no longer looking at his face. My eyes had ventured over his biceps as they clenched beneath a well-worn T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
“This is new,” I said. Meaning the car and the fact that he was standing outside. In the sunshine. “I thought you’d turned vampire. I’ve never seen you in the daylight.”
He grunted as he bent and put his tools away. That was his typical response. I tried not to admire the way his faded jeans clutched his backside, but failed. Cade had a nice ass.
When he stood, I averted my eyes from his well-built physique to his short, shaggy mass of sandy brown hair, and my heart stuttered in my chest.
Every inch of him was hot. From a pair of midlength sideburns to the holes in his ears where the piercings had closed because he no longer wore the studs. Tattoos snaked up his left arm, intricate designs, some colored, some not. An array of animals and symbols, metaphors for what I had never found out. Not that I had asked. There were lines we didn’t cross, and his tattoos were one of them.
When he smiled, a dimple dented one cheek, and if he really smiled, you could see rows of white teeth—not too white—he wasn’t battling a coffee addiction with Crest Whitestrips like I was.
In the case of my way
ward attraction to Cade, the culprit was my ex-boyfriend, Tony. If Tony hadn’t been such a dickhead, we could be looking for an apartment together and planning our engagement. He was going into sports medicine, I into physical therapy. We had similar upbringings. Similar goals. Similar interests. Well, save one. Tony Fry was most interested in seeing how many women he could date without the others finding out, and I was more of a one-guy type of girl.
That was where our paths had ultimately veered.
Cade crooked a finger, motioning for me to come closer. I took one cautious step. Then another. He smelled of motor oil, which wasn’t bad. Not on him. It mingled with the scent of his soap and gave him an earthy yet dangerous quality. Plus, Cade looked damn good with oil on smeared on his shirt and across one cheek.
His eyes dashed to my lips, and back up, and then . . .
I was looking at his back as he walked away from me. Not into the entrance to the house on the right of the garage, but through a door on the left. Curious, I followed.
The door opened to a flight of stairs.
Okay.
One foot after the next, I followed, then at the top I peeked around the doorway. I blinked, stunned.
“Whoa.” I had no idea this room existed. The Wilson house was large, and I always assumed that behind the windows over the garage stood some sort of attic or storage space. Maybe they used to be, but now the space resembled an apartment. Not as big as mine, but much bigger than the bedroom Cade had formerly occupied.
His bed stood in one corner, the mattress bare. A kitchenette was on the far wall, outfitted with a small sink, microwave, and refrigerator. Open boxes were stacked in the room, along every wall, and flanking an attached bathroom.
“Nice place,” I commented, meaning it. And an improvement from sleeping across the hall from his father.
Cade brushed by me and walked into the kitchenette, then stood with the refrigerator door open and took a few slugs out of an orange juice carton. My eyes flickered over one rounded muscular shoulder and down the curve of thick biceps, then got lost in the maze of ink swirling over his flesh.
Daring Devlin (Lost Boys Book 1) Page 20