The pickup halted in the main street of El Remate. Little hotels and restaurants dotted either side of the dirt road and reminded her of her current accommodations. Would Cady expect her to move into town? She enjoyed the convenience of staying at his house… among other things.
“I know a place where you can get that drink,” he said, his eyes on the road.
The bar and restaurant overlooked the lake. Tucked into the jungle on three sides, it felt protected, isolated, intimate. Cady ordered her a beer and a traditional bean and rice plate at her request. He ordered something with plantains for himself.
“Can I try one?” she asked.
He dipped the banana-like fruit into a yogurt sauce, called crema, and handed it to her. Her heart jumped and she paused for a split second, then folded her mouth around the fruit, sucking a little before taking it fully in.
His eyes responded, sharpening, darkening. He leaned over and licked her mouth with his tongue, crema or no crema. She swallowed quickly, wanting access to his lips. He kissed her, and then pulled back when the server came to refill their water glasses.
Jane realized she’d never seen him order alcohol. “You don’t drink, do you?”
He straightened. “Not in recent years, no.”
She sensed that Cady wanted to say more and wished he would open up to her, but the man was a clam. Reaching for his fingers and meeting his gaze, she tried to telegraph what she needed. He took a sip of water and stared at the lake.
“Jonny Cassy was my best friend,” he said, finally. “You know who I’m talking about, right?”
Everyone knew who Jonny Cassy was. Or had been, rather.
“He took a trip to Mexico with some other guys. I was working on a movie at the time. I guess he scored some coke in Cabo, which wouldn’t have been unusual. The next day he turned up dead, floating face-down in the hotel swimming pool.” Cady shook his head. “He was twenty-three.”
The lights of the restaurant shimmered on the darkening lake and cast shadows in the jungle. The moon was on the rise, adding to the haunted feel of the fast-approaching night. An animal wailed. Cady’s hand remained beneath Jane’s.
“And you stopped drinking and drugs out of solidarity?” she asked.
He laughed bitterly. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? I was worse than him. Total coke-head. My friend died and that didn’t even make me quit. It took three tries and giving up my entire career to get off the stuff. Then I came down here. I’ve been clean for seven years.”
He’d left everything behind for good reason. Jane couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be so attracted to illegal substances that he’d needed to leave his home, job, and family. If faced with a similar situation, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. Would she have had the strength to give up everything she’d worked for? His reasons for hiding down here now made sense. “So what do you do with your time?”
“I write music—for other people.”
Her heart flipped. “What kind?”
“Songs for popular bands.”
“Anything I’d know?”
He hummed a few bars of a well-known, recent hit.
“Wow, you wrote that?”
He smiled.
The man had serious talent. “I didn’t see any hi-tech equipment in your house.”
“I have a small studio set back into the jungle. As much as I love my work, I hate taking it home.”
“So you got into music after you quit acting?”
He shrugged. “Got to put all that angst somewhere.”
She smiled, delighted he’d found a market for his talents despite his isolation. Squeezing his hand, she brought his gaze back to hers. “You’re an admirable man, Cady Hewes. And I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
He didn’t speak, yet searched her eyes for a long moment, then squeezed back.
A couple of Guatemalan men entered the bar and drew Cady’s attention. He gave one of them a nod—a burly man with curly black hair. A familiar-looking younger man took a seat next to the group, talking into his cell phone.
“Isn’t that the teenager who helped us today at the store?” Jane asked.
“Yeah.” Cady nodded, absently. His gaze returned to hers, then he stood and waited for her to join him. “Let’s go.”
Hand-in-hand, he led her along the moonlit road back to his place, comfortable silence between them. She could definitely get used to this. To him. A lump formed in her throat. Was she really imagining him in her future? Cady Hewes, reclusive movie-star and ex-addict?
Yes.
Fervently wishing, more like.
As if he would move to New Mexico, leave everything and marry her.
Marry her? Christ where had that come from?
He let her into his house, closing the screen door with a gentle click. The moonlight illuminated his hair and shoulders, shadows obscuring his features from her gaze.
“I could be forming an addiction to you, Jane Caldwell,” he said in a sultry tone. “You’re definitely hazardous to my state of mind.”
How hazardous?
He slid his hand along her hip and cupped her waist. “You make me want things I shouldn’t.”
He gently pulled her to him. His erection pressed against her pelvis, hard and ready. Need enveloped her, physical and emotional. She wanted him close.
“Things I can’t give, and won’t take,” he whispered.
Warning received and understood. Not marriage, then. Her heart tugged with disappointment, but the pressure of his cock between her legs made her forget everything but the moment. He was right. Being with him was like a drug. She focused on his face. He seemed to be waiting for a response.
She’d found Zach. Mission accomplished. She could go home tomorrow as long as her dad came with her. If all she could have with Cady was this final night, she would make it count. She had the rest of her life to come down from the high, and to miss him terribly—each a distinct possibility.
After grinding against his hard shaft, she broke away and walked to the bathroom. “I could use a shower.” She turned and shot him an inviting glance. “Coming?”
…
Cady soaped her body, taking his sweet time lathering her breasts, between her legs. Every nerve ending shouted for joy, demanding more. Reaching for him, Jane stroked his cock, its large tip expanding under her fingers. Water sprayed on the back of her head as she stared into his eyes. Needing him inside of her, like, right now, she reached behind her and turned off the spray. Smiling, she led him out of the stall, her hand still wrapped around his dick. She grabbed a towel released him, then dried her hair.
Seeing Cady naked and glistening was more than she could handle. She became wet between her legs, her body responding to the male god before her. Seriously, he must spend hours working out with the kettle weights she’d seen on the porch.
Breasts tight, she headed straight for his bedroom, knowing he would follow. Instead of heading for the bed, she nudged him toward an armchair by the window, making him sit. He looked tempting as hell, legs splayed, cock standing at attention. Kneeling on the rug before him, she cupped her breasts and pressed them around his shaft, massaging it between the globes. Wanting to smooth the ride, she took the tip in her mouth, leaving it moist.
He pressed his cock upwards, filling her mouth, groaning, jerking. “Jesus, Jane.”
She loved when he lost control, as if he couldn’t believe how hot she made him. She allowed him deeper, gagging a little at his entry into her throat. He pulled her head down and back, lifting her wet hair.
“Ahhhhh,” he sighed. “Baby, that’s it.”
She continued to stimulate his cock, lapping at him, cheeks pumping and sucking. An unearthly feeling of power overcame her. He was at her mercy, loving every motion of her tongue. She slid her hand up to cup his balls, tugging gently at the rolling flesh. His strong thighs flexed.
He pulled her up by her shoulders, catching her buttocks, lifting her on top of him in the chair. He
leaned his forehead on her breasts, breathing heavily.
“Condom. In the dresser,” he said.
She reached back and found one, tearing the packet apart with her teeth, and pushing the sheath over him. His dick strained against the latex, pulsing. So wet she might burst from her arousal, she slicked against him, pulling him up and almost in, before sliding down.
His fingers dug into her sides, before subsiding, allowing her a modicum of control. She repeated the move, loving the feel of his wide head against her pussy, the rasping friction. Fire spurted between their almost joined bodies. Fire and liquid.
“Jane,” he said, eyes forcing her responding look. “Let me fuck you?”
God, she loved it when he talked dirty, even more when he asked so politely. She nodded, raising her hips, positioning above him, wet and beyond ready. “Yes, please.”
She bore down.
Chapter Six
Heaven was Jane’s pussy closing around him like a fist. Cady bit back a moan as she lowered herself, hips rocking. Exquisite sensation zipped from his groin to his heart. With his thumbs against her abs and hands splayed, he guided her further down, widening her buttocks with the tips of his fingers, making her take more of him. She gasped at the depth of his entry. He fixed his eyes on her breasts, straining and sensitive.
Gripping the back of the armchair with a desperate hand, she lifted off him, not completely, but enough to send shuddering waves of ecstasy through them both.
Yes, Jane was dangerous to the life he’d built. He hadn’t lied about forming an addiction to this, to her. Addiction in any form had proven exceedingly bad for him. But, lord, he didn’t know how he would get over her once she went home. There was no rehab for a lonely heart.
She jerked down and forward again, and he hissed. He watched, thrilled, when she touched herself with two fast fingers. The sight of her masturbating while he filled her sent him over the edge in one sudden burst.
“Jane,” he bit out in warning, but too late. He shot up, coming in rapid, intense spurts.
She kept writhing for a moment longer, fingers flying in moist circles around her clit, hips riding him in a quick canter. Her breath came out in short gasps. He watched her face as she reached orgasm. It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. Flushed with effort and pleasure, she stilled, head back, and keened one long, high-pitched scream. Suspended for a second, she gave a wordless cry, and then crashed back down, surrounding him one last time. Her muscles milked him for a final response and he couldn’t help bucking deeper.
“Oh,” she whispered, jerking again in aftershock.
She leaned over and kissed him, eyes hazy with lust. Her lips tasted like spice and sin. Lifting her hips, he guided himself out and they stood, mouths still tasting, sucking. Walking her backwards, he disposed of the condom and spread her on his bed.
Seeing Jane naked on his white sheets was a sight to remember. His dick pulsed with renewed energy. If she went home tomorrow with her dad, tonight would be their final night together. He wanted to make it last.
Stretching out beside her lean form, he trailed a knuckle over one perfect breast then lower to her belly. “So that man is really your dad?”
She nodded, shrugging slightly. “He knew who I was.” Her eyes clouded. “I don’t remember him that well.”
Something about the guy hadn’t set right with Cady. “Do you think he’ll come back with you?”
“He’s got to. I don’t think Allison or Margo could take one more loss.”
“And what about you?”
Her eyes focused. “What do you mean?”
“Can you take it?”
She stared at his chest. He increased the pressure of his knuckle on her skin, sliding it lower, tangling his fingers in her curls, finding her, stroking. She gasped, her ab muscles clenching. He saw her effort to concentrate on the conversation.
She shook her head. “I’ll drag him onto a plane if I have to.”
She caught her breath when he pushed one thick finger inside of her wet, sleek core.
“I bet you would.”
Her gaze shot to his. “Are you making fun of me?”
He shoved two more fingers deep inside of her, and her hips bucked. “No. I think you’re amazing.”
He did.
Jane was a determined soul. He doubted anything could stop her from getting what she wanted and admired her loyalty to her family. Cady wished he could keep her here, but knew she couldn’t stay. He could, however, give her intense pleasure to remember him by. He stroked her again. Her breasts lifted toward his face and he took one nipple in his teeth and tugged.
“Yes,” she murmured.
He pulled her up to a seated position, rolled onto his back, and sat her on his face, evoking a surprised gasp. His grip kept her from moving away. He needed to taste her. Holding her pink folds above his mouth, he touched her with his tongue, then slid it inside, spearing her flesh.
She shuddered.
“Relax,” he ordered.
She gripped his shoulders, then released them and cupped her breasts.
She was wet beneath his kiss, and tasted so damn perfect, he wanted more. Flicking her clit with the tip of his tongue, he urged her toward climax. She was completely at his mercy.
“Cady,” she screamed, bucking, driving his tongue inside again.
He obliged, lapping up her juice, back and forth, back and forth, letting her ride his face to completion.
She arched into a prolonged and ecstatic climax. Her face creased with pleasure and wetness washed over his mouth. “Oh. My. God.”
After several moments of stillness, she sagged then moved back down over him, lengthening her legs against his, resting her face on his chest. She laughed, and it sounded tremulous.
“Cady, Cady.” She shook her head, still smiling.
He stroked her hair and his chest rumbled with corresponding laughter.
“Jane, Jane,” he replied. “You make me want to cry out like Tarzan.”
She raised her head. “Excuse me, but I think you already did. You know, during your, um, climax?”
Cady tipped up her chin so he could see into her eyes. He brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, traced the bone, then kissed her forehead before pulling her back to his chest.
“I hope tomorrow never comes,” she murmured before falling asleep.
…
Cady saw the dawn break through tired eyes. He’d slept fitfully, instead watching Jane in repose. Inspiration flowed through him like a flash flood. He hated to leave the warmth of her body next to his but he needed to find his guitar. After slipping out of the bed, he headed to his small living room.
His acoustic guitar stood on its stand by the shaded window. He lifted it and placed it on his lap with a sure but gentle grasp. Touching it reminded him of how he loved to touch Jane. Strumming, he played a major cord, then a minor one, and then picked out a new melody inspired by the woman in his bed—a sweet tune of longing, pain and loss.
It was all Jane.
Damn. He wasn’t ready to leave the carefully hidden life he’d put together. So what if his newfound muse lived thousands of miles away? He’d been alone for years; he could do it again.
“That’s beautiful.”
Jane stood at the door, wearing one of his shirts. Music swelled in his brain, and his fingers obliged by playing the notes. Goodbye Jane… the lyrics came to him, but he refrained from singing aloud. The answer to all my pain… Corny, but true. As if realizing he needed to be alone, she smiled and backed away, leaving him to his guitar.
…
Cady had his doubts about Zach Caldwell. Jane and her so-called father walked side-by-side around his compound while Cady sat on the porch. Zach had a rifle slung over one shoulder, for starters. Ostensibly what he’d used to kill the rabbit dangling from his fingers. Jane had paused when she’d seen the gun, but she’d grown up on a ranch so Cady hadn’t been surprised by her apparent ease around a man carrying a rifle.
Cady knew how to shoot, had learned for one or two of his movies. Still, the rifle made him nervous. Caldwell made him nervous, and he couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was the way Zach glanced at Jane when she wasn’t looking, or the wattage of his smile. Years of experience with people on the take had given him a nose for anything remotely fake. What if Zach wasn’t who he seemed? But if that was the case, what could explain the story he’d told them about Iraq?
“Hey, Zach,” he called. “I need to use your john.”
Zach nodded.
The inside of Zach’s cabin stank of cigarette butts and stale beer. Not really needing to use the bathroom, Cady used the time to look around. A tiny bedroom revealed messy sheets—so much for military precision—and a cell phone charging on the bedside table. He heard footsteps approaching before he could investigate further.
Jane and Zach found him washing his hands in the tiny bathroom, door ajar.
Jane looked overjoyed. “Dad says he’s coming back with me.”
He mustered a smile. “That’s great, babe.” He came out and gave her a hug.
“So, Zach, I’ll book a flight for you if you give me your passport number.”
Half-expecting a suspicious response, Cady was taken aback when Zach nodded. After a quick rummage in the bedroom, Zach presented a U.S. passport to him. Needing to see the evidence, he flipped it open. It read Zach T. Caldwell in black and white. He frowned.
Okay, so maybe the guy really was Jane’s father.
“Do you mind if I tag along? I have some business to take care of back in the U.S.” Cady had spoken the words without thinking.
Jane looked as shocked as he felt. Hope dawned on her face and he felt like kicking himself. Mistrust made him want to protect her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t face saying goodbye to Jane.
“Let me grab my bag and we can leave,” Zach said.
“Is there any way we can avoid that nightmare journey back into Mexico?” Jane asked.
“There are international flights from Mundo Maya Airport outside of Flores,” Cady said, knowing they cost a fortune.
Jane’s face lit up.
Well, he could put his untouched millions to good use, finally.
Hold Me Page 6