by Zoe Dawson
“Yes.” It was plain and simple.
He made a soft sound against her neck and she slipped her hand into all that glorious red hair, rocking him gently.
She waited outside his window as he went into the house. He assured her his mom and sister were already in bed. He closed and locked the door and opened the window, helping her through. In the dark, he pushed her coat off her and she slipped out of her hose.
She was shivering. “Are you cold?” he whispered.
“No,” she whispered back.
Kissing him again, she pulled her dress up and pressed his hand to her breast. Let him feel her racing heartbeat as fast and as furious as his. Then, without another thought, she pulled the dress completely off over her head and let it puddle into a silky pile at her feet.
He groaned softly, his hand closing around her, so gently, and his other hand slipped around her back and with one deft move popped the clasp of her bra. He covered her mouth as it came loose, ate her soft gasp of surprise. A tremor went through him.
“I wanted you for such a long time. Always so sassy, so sweet. So…Cadie,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her again. “I need you in so many ways. But first I was inept and awkward, then scared and stupid, now I’m broken and lost. I’m sorry I treated you so badly.”
“It hurt, Brooks. I won’t lie, but even through the pain, I knew you didn’t mean it.”
She didn’t delude herself into thinking that everything would change because Brooks was struggling with something bigger and more difficult to overcome than just his grief. It was PTSD. She was sure of it. He couldn’t save his father and the helplessness had made it all the worse.
“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t,” he whispered against her throat between kisses.
She lifted his head and there was just enough light from the moon falling across his face for her to see his tormented eyes. “I forgive you,” she said and meant it from the very bottom of her heart. She covered his mouth and kissed him. She would hold him tonight, love him the best way she knew how, and hope she could save him from himself.
—
As she was helping to clear, Rafferty happened to glance over and see Reese. He looked different. The wine had been flowing and it had loosened up quite a few people. Reese was often described as laid back, but Rafferty couldn’t quite swallow that. There was something so still-waters-run-deep about him. His face was soft and he looked…different. She followed his gaze and sucked in a breath. He was staring at Eden, who was talking to Trace. He shook his head and retreated back into the kitchen. She heard the door close softly behind him. Hmmm, what was that all about?
Clem came up and smiled. “You want to have lunch tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Rafferty said, then she looked away.
“What is it?” Clem said, her voice intent.
“I love it here,” she said, her throat tight.
Clem slipped her arm around her waist. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
Rafferty nodded and Greg interrupted them. She’d finally convinced him she needed to work on her own stuff here. Alone. He was leaving tonight on a late flight. After they helped Eden clean up, she said her goodbyes to Greg as he made her promise to call him and let him know how she was doing. She promised, kissing him on the cheek.
As Greg drove away, Trace’s cell rang and he said, “What? She was supposed to be home an hour ago.” He grabbed her hand and there wasn’t any way she was going to get to sleep when she found out that Cadie hadn’t come home yet.
Deciding that she was probably enjoying herself and forgot to call, they sat waiting it out until Trace finally insisted that Rafferty go to his bed and get some sleep.
—
Brooks lifted his mouth from their kiss and looked down at her, still not believing what she’d done. God, she’d taken her dress off, just pulled it over her head and blown his mind.
He put his hands on her, slid them up over her breasts, cupped her. Damn, she was soft, probably the softest thing he’d ever touched in his whole life.
She stretched up and opened her mouth on his neck, scattering breathless, aching kisses along his skin. He took a breath, hoping he could do this. He wanted so badly to make love with her, but, man, his head was in a bad place.
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow block out the awful sense of panic buzzing at the back of his brain. It didn’t.
Tough it out, he told himself—and really, what kind of a thing was that to have to be thinking when a guy had the hottest girl in the world in his arms, and she was practically naked?
His hands started trembling. He wasn’t sure what to do. Remove them completely or hold her harder and have her know that he was crazy, shaking for her. She probably already was quite aware. But all she did was slide her hands around the front of his jeans and start unbuckling his belt—and that helped, that got him out of his head.
Sure as hell, he would have thought it was physically impossible to have an erection and a panic attack at the same time. He knew all about panic attacks.
And, he wasn’t sure if arousal felt like this since he’d only ever fantasized about Cadie. His couple times at sex was nothing but the base need for release. This was something else altogether. He cared about this girl. Cared about her until his guts were twisted up into knots he couldn’t even begin to understand how to untie.
She turned him like he was a spinning top. She ran her hands over his back and up into his hair where she fisted it and tugged gently, reveling in the feel of him. With his heart turning over at the deprived way she touched him, he groaned at her exploration. The slow, savoring way that filled him up inside and pushed out the darkness. She kissed his back with hot trailing lips, then she pressed her breasts against his back. It was the most incredible feeling, but then she topped that, working him over hard when she slipped her hand into his unzipped pants right past the waistband and hit pay dirt.
His knees buckled. His heart buckled. His whole world buckled.
But she held him up.
He was so hard and she had her hands all over him. He rocked into her, sliding up against all her soft, satiny skin, and the panic eased. He needed her so badly and it really had very little to do with his jacked-up body. Oh, that was there, but the need for her was baser, deeper, so entwined with his soul, he wasn’t sure she hadn’t always been there.
Most girls were tentative about this kind of thing, but not Cadie. She really grabbed life, grabbed it and shook it until all the good stuff fell out. He really loved that about her.
She wrapped one of her long legs around his thigh. She nuzzled his nape and up toward his hairline, burying her face there, one hand wrapping around his neck, holding him for more kisses.
His brain was fogging. Her mouth was wet. He reached for her leg, pulling her closer, reveling in the silken softness of her thigh beneath his fingers. Her other hand was sliding over him, driving him wild, stroking him, getting him even harder. He groaned, her palm was so soft, her fingers so delicate, her leg wrapping around him, her hand doing the same to his dick—and he was dying…dying. He thrust into her hand with an uncontrollable push of his hips.
“Take them off,” he whispered, and she released him, moving in front of him. Her head was bowed and her hands went to his waistband. She was naked except for the delicate pink lace across her hips. She grasped his jeans and underwear and pushed them off. He stepped out of them and grasped her upper arms, turning her toward his bed.
Her face came up, and in the moonlight slashing through his window, she looked like a beautiful angel. She’d done some kind of curling thing to her hair and it bounced, gleaming like mahogany in the dim room. He captured a lock and rubbed it between his fingers.
When the backs of her legs hit the bed, she sat down, but he kept going, pushing her back, climbing on top of her, climbing all over her.
She gasped as his dick touched her stomach and he groaned at the contact. He fumbled for her panties and got them off her, feel
ing like he was going to explode. He got a handle on it. Did math problems in his head until the hot pulse of need passed. There wasn’t going to be any kind of falling on her like an animal.
“Cadie, baby, is this your first time? I need to know.”
She looked him directly in the eyes, the connection thrumming through him and said, “Yes. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Her whispered admission filled him with the deepest, bone-deep satisfaction. He closed his eyes at the pleasure of it. He bit his lip hard and galvanized as he reached for the condoms in his drawer. She was his. She’d always been his—and that wouldn’t change no matter what happened in the future. She had her hands all over him while he put the condom on, her voice whispering a whole litany of sweet nothings that seemed to mostly be made up of his name, which he loved more than she could possibly know.
He braced his knees, lifted her, and positioned them at a better angle on the mattress. Then he tested her with his fingers and found her ready.
“Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you,” he said.
She cupped his face. “I know you won’t.” He rubbed her, watching her angel face as she arched her neck, made soft sounds that built until she came hard against his hand.
He hated that he’d already hurt her.
He was in control and it felt completely awesome, not like when he’d half carried, half pushed his dying father through the thick growth of Glacier. Cold inside and out.
It was a memory that haunted him, and he didn’t want to, but he looked at the clock and his heart squeezed so hard, his stomach twisting at the time. This was it. When his father had fallen to his knees, then his back. Brooks had pleaded, his tears as cold against his cheeks as his father’s blood was rushing warm against his fingers. His mind scrambling and pleading and praying and promising anything. Screaming out into the darkness for help.
He learned what true helplessness had been that night.
The warmth of her hands on him brought him back to her. “It’s all right,” she whispered, rising up and wrapping her arms around him. He closed his eyes and fought it, fought it hard. The grief trapped somewhere he couldn’t reach, anger and guilt heavy barriers. That moment was gone, yet it continued to play over and over in his head, that if he had done something differently, one thing, he would have been able to save him. He just needed the answer.
“Brooks, make love to me. I’ve wanted you for so long. Nothing else matters right now.”
His chest heaved as the memory got pushed back. He needed to screw his head on right for her. He pressed against her and slid into her, and it was like nothing in his past, nothing. He pushed deeper and his breathing ratcheted up a whole freakin’ notch. He hit a barrier and went through it gently, took her virginity, took her for himself. He tried to keep his hips still to give her a second, but she was moving against him.
Cadie overload hit his brain, short-circuiting his motherboard. Haywire, angel chaos, disconnecting, lights out. She was so hot, so slick. Sliding into her, he felt like he was dying and had landed in paradise. There had to be a name for what happened to guys in this situation, maybe her body was on stun, his whole brain instantly fried, as if his connection to reality had snapped.
He thrust again, and it just got better, and with the next thrust mind-bending, like he was sliding into a hot, tight heaven and he couldn’t catch his breath and didn’t give a damn. And then, it suddenly got so much worse.
“It was you, Cadie.” The words whispered from his lips without a single connection to conscious thought, sanity, or his will. They just came out…and kept coming. “God, I wasn’t alone. I had you out there with me. It was you I craved and needed.” It was like his soul had burst open. “I’ve been so locked up and gone for so long, I don’t know how to find my way back. But, I always held on to the glory of your face, the brightness of your eyes, and the joy of your smile. Sometimes I lose the light and it gets so dark, my chest gets so tight, and I almost forget how to breathe.”
He was holding on to her so tight, his arm low around her hips, lifting her into him, his head buried in the curve of her neck, and he was giving her everything he had. Ah, dammit all to hell and back. “Cadie…” He ground himself against her with every deep thrust, aching…wanting…She shredded him, his mouth trailing over her hot skin—endless minute after endless minute, until she gave him everything he needed. Her head went back on a groan, and her back arched off the mattress. God, he’d never seen anything more beautiful, never felt anything more exquisite than the cascade of her contractions tightening around him, and it undid him. He pressed his face between her breasts, his breath caught, his release so fierce and hot.
It was like losing who he was, what she did to him, and it took a long, long time to come down. When he was aware of her again, all he could think was oh God, Cadie, carefully pulling her on top of him so she wouldn’t get crushed. She settled in, and he felt like something had been handed to him. Something he could hold on to even as the time passed.
How was he going to find his way? How was he going to keep himself from hurting her again? He didn’t know. He shouldn’t have been drinking anywhere around her. He’d lost his damn mind, but like that horrible night in Glacier, he still didn’t know how to deal with all that had been walled off. Even with her warm against him and what they had shared, his main concern was keeping her free of his ugly black hole.
He’d be damned if he’d drag her into oblivion with him.
And, would that mean letting go of her completely?
Chapter 19
Rafferty struggled with a leaden feeling in her stomach and her brain buzzing. Part of it was Trace and the other was her worry over Cadie. Everything was flipped upside down. All that she had known only weeks before was shot to hell. The thought of leaving here like a wrenching pain deep in her chest.
Her cellphone buzzed and she looked to see her father was calling. She ignored it. She couldn’t settle her mind around returning to the noise and the hustle of New York City. She hadn’t attended to business at all, postponing offering for the land that would fit Hamilton Resorts to a tee. So why wasn’t it suitable? What was holding her back? She’d been dragging her feet, once again indecisive when she’d never been indecisive in her life.
The worry over Cadie pushed her out of bed. Maybe if she brought up this stuff with him, it might help. That’s when she stopped. She trusted him. Trusted him more than she had ever trusted Sean.
He had been good on paper, fulfilled her checklist, and seemed like the perfect match.
How wrong she’d been.
Disquiet trembling along her nerve endings, she opened Trace’s bedroom door and walked down the hall. She stopped dead when she saw Cadie sitting on one sofa all by herself, still dressed in her homecoming dress, no hose on, her hair a mess and her lips swollen and looking thoroughly kissed.
On the opposite sofa Reese, who was looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but here, and Harley, who was warily looking at Trace.
Trace was sitting in the middle of all that Black gorgeousness. He looked haggard and wiped out, on the edge of an exhaustion that was finally taking its toll on him. His eyes flicked to hers and the silent message he sent was one of solace. Without a word, she slipped behind the sofa as Cadie’s face hardened and her chin lifted.
Uh-oh. This was definitely a Mexican standoff if ever she’d seen it.
Her hands slipped into Trace’s hair and his whole body sighed as he leaned into her. “Tell my brother that being eighteen means that you’re an adult and you can make your own decisions.”
Her eyes also sent a message that she desperately needed backup. Rafferty knew then that she was so deeply entrenched in this family, there was no escaping that she wanted to be a part of it, longed to contribute.
Trace’s icy voice broke the ensuing silence. “Tell my inconsiderate, miserable sister that when you aren’t going to come home, it’s common courtesy to let someone know.” His voice rose on the last three words.
“Eighteen is old enough to make your own decisions,” she said as Trace stiffened, and Cadie sighed. “But”—she squeezed Trace’s shoulder—“being eighteen also means that you have to accept consequences to those decisions, take into consideration the people who care about you, and…” She held up her hand when Cadie went to speak. “And, you conduct yourself like an adult. That means if you will not be where you’re expected to be, then you call.”
Her eyes flashed, as she looked from Rafferty to her brothers. Then her shoulders slumped. “Okay, I was irresponsible. But I had a good reason.”
“What was that reason?” Trace bit out, still tense.
“I knew you’d argue. I didn’t want to fight with you. I was in the middle of something big, and I couldn’t…didn’t want to think about it too much or to get censured.”
Trace lunged off the couch, grabbed up his sister by her upper arms, and said fiercely, “I was going out of my mind with worry. I thought…” he choked out. “I thought something had happened to you. Do you have any idea how that feels?”
For a shocked moment there was complete silence, then Cadie burst into tears. Something big had happened to her last night and Rafferty didn’t want to guess, but she suspected it had something to do with Brooks Gill. Both Reese and Harley rose. Trace really was the dominant force in this family, the one who had held them all together, so it was harder for him to let go—of Harley, of Cadie.
Would it be tough for him to let go of her?
“I’m sorry,” she said as he dragged her roughly against him. “I’m sorry, Trace. I wasn’t thinking.”