"Why don't we figure that out together?” How did she manage to look beautiful while crying and strong while desperately afraid? Must be some woman thing his sisters hadn't informed him of. Then again, maybe it was an orphan thing, something he'd never experienced. Perhaps that was why it was killing him to look at her right now. Until meeting Olivia, he'd considered that growing up with four sisters had inured him to feminine tears. Now he knew better.
"Please don't cry, Olivia. I didn't want you to cry. I'd do anything to make you feel better.” Words were inadequate for what he would do in an effort to ease her pain and help make her whole, but he needed to say something, even if it did make him sound like a fool.
She stiffened in his arms. If she were a cartoon character, a light bulb would have blipped on and flashed brightly above her head. “Anything?"
"You have something in mind?” He would play with her if it would cajole her into a happier frame of mind. And if her mind was running the same way as his, he'd probably enjoy it, too.
"Oh, you have no idea.” The anticipatory gleam in her eyes was a worry. He grimaced down at her. Why did he have the sinking feeling he'd just been conned?
* * * *
In Michel's Café on the corner of Olivia's block, the stunned look she'd anticipated on Cain's face became a reality. Upon entering, she watched him watch her, felt her whole body come alive in his presence. Finally, he was wearing casual clothes and he looked just as good as she'd predicted. Worn Levi's clung to his backside in a way that made her itch to slide her hands inside the pockets of his jeans. The T-shirt clung to his body enough to show off the wedge created by the progression from broad shoulder to narrow waist. All the best male torsos were this shape, from sculptures by Rodin to Heath Ledger and now Cain.
Sadly, the classical lines of his body were topped by a rather comedic expression. Plainly, he hadn't thought she would arrive carrying mountains of engineering textbooks. Still, if her tutor wasn't answering calls, who better to help her than the engineer who'd just yesterday promised her anything?
Giving him time to compose himself and reorganise his expression, she walked to the counter, ordering coffee and cheesecake. "Café, s'il vous plait." Michel was actually from Belgium, but spoke French as well as Flemish. Most of the time if the café were quiet, he would come out to sit with her, enjoying the chance to speak without having to think so hard. Today Michel stayed behind the counter, offering a nod and an outrageous wink in Cain's direction.
"I find it difficult to believe that after tearing strips off me just yesterday, you're actually asking for my help. You did tear them off because I found out about your studies, right?"
"Wrong. Yesterday was about your stalking me. Today is about my studies."
Settling all the books on the floor beside the table, Olivia flipped open her notebook to the page containing the list of problems she was having with this subject. In the absence of her tutor's help, the list had grown enormously within the last two weeks. Chewing on a pen lid, she began to explain where her problems had started.
"Olivia, why are you doing this?” His hand motioned to the textbooks and she presumed he meant studying. “You are already skilled enough to exist without all this."
"I love this,” she explained, feeling her own face lighten while she tried to describe what learning all this did for her. “I love feeling my brain accept new information. I enjoy solving the problems. No matter how simple the equation, I always feel like a genius when I've worked it. I adore the challenge. Don't you ever wonder how much you can fit in, how clever you can be?"
Cain was watching her mouth while she spoke. The pen lid was still caught between her eye teeth, cigarette style, while she explained. His thumb traced her top lip, the one he seemed to enjoy kissing so much. The stroke stopped at the corner of her mouth before he removed the lid from her teeth.
God, she wished he'd kiss her.
"Why are we studying here and not at your apartment, or mine for that matter?” The question was low and full of intent.
Back to business, Olivia, or you'll fail and have to do this subject all over again. She straightened in her seat, unnecessarily rearranging pens on the table. “Because it is too easy to become distracted at our apartments."
It seemed that he found her prim but clever response funny, because he smiled happily while his hand, under the concealment of the tablecloth, came to rest on her knee, adjusting its position ever so slightly. “Really?"
She felt her temperature rise. “Yes. Really."
For almost two hours Cain's behaviour was gentlemanly. He drew diagrams of molecules, of molecular movement within substances and under differing conditions. His hand touched her knee often, to pat it reassuringly, to squeeze it in congratulations when she demonstrated her understanding, but never in a too intimate a fashion. As such, she was caught completely unaware when his fingers began to massage the soft skin on the inside of her knee. Flicking a sideways glance at him, Olivia saw his right hand still working over the formula she had just presented to him. Every now and then he slashed an arrow up to a comment or an explanatory sub-formula to support her working. She relaxed beneath his hand again.
When finished with her work, Cain wrote another problem directly beneath it on the page. While one hand slid the paper back across the tabletop to her, the other hand spread across her thigh. To allow for the faster breaths his touch inspired, Olivia opened her mouth. She chewed on the end of her pen in an effort to disguise her quiet, panting inhalations. His finger rested just on the leg elastic of her panties.
"Concentrate,” he admonished.
She tried bringing her legs closer together under the table. Cain chuckled, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Relax, Olivia, the café is empty, Michel is out back, and you look divine in this.” His thumb flicked against the fabric of her short, flippy skirt, indicating his approval of her outfit.
Gulping a swallow, she felt the beginning of the slow internal quiver he caused, and frowned with forced concentration. When his fingers began their work on top of the fine mesh of her panties, her fingers tightened on the pen she was using. Heat moved under her skin while he flicked at the material. The repositioning of his hand was unnoticeable from above the tablecloth, but she felt it. Felt the lightest touch rub over her panties above her clit. Oh, God, she was wet already!
"You're not working. People will guess what we're up to if your pen isn't moving."
Olivia tried for poise in the face of the unravelling she felt happening in her core. She maintained the image of calm even when his fingers slipped beneath the filmy fabric of her panties to tickle gently at her hairless slit. She liked it hairless, liked the way it looked, liked the way it felt! Biting her lip, breathing through her nose, she strove not to make a terrible public spectacle of herself. His fingers slipped through the folds of her sex, delighting her throbbing clit with their attention. Focussing on formulae became very, very difficult.
"Cain, let's go home, back to my apartment. Now. Please."
Chuckling, he didn't cease his attentions. “When you've finished the working, then we'll go."
Flying into action, she frowned and bit her lip. Working on an engineering problem while Cain worked on her would surely prove more difficult than any exam. What would she do if Michel should come out? Beneath the white linen draped over the table, the front of her skirt was pushed as high as Cain's hand could move it. His fingers were sliding into her wetness now, dipping shallowly into her when the mood took him. She was panting quietly while madly trying to race a solution onto the page.
Michel reappeared behind the counter, adding more pastries to his display and rummaging through a drawer. She held her breath. Cain continued with what he was doing.
"More coffee, cheri?” Michel asked.
"Merci, No.” Was her voice too loud? Too husky? Could he hear her panting?
Cain's quiet laughter rang with wicked delight. Olivia's jaw dropped and her eyes met his. He'd shocked her to her c
ore when two, no three fingers forced her thighs further apart to plunge deeply inside her, the heel of his palm rubbing on the throbbing node against which it rested. He did this even as Michel whistled his way back to his storeroom.
"Please, Cain, we have to go."
Nonchalantly, he peered at her work. “You're almost done. Better hurry up."
She hurried through the last of her solution, scribbling at the page when what she really wanted to do was squirm in her chair, spread her legs wide, and buck against the hands on her body.
Finally, she slid the page back to him and slammed the book shut. Before she could reach beneath the table herself, he took his fingers deep again. She closed her eyes against the sensation.
"Don't adjust, just pull your skirt down, and we'll walk out.” The instructions were low and his voice rough.
"You speak as though you've done this before."
The wolfish grin lit up his face. “No, but I have a great imagination."
And did he not, generally, put it to great use? Following the train of his thoughts this time, Olivia snatched up her bag and hoisted it over one shoulder. Grabbing an armload of books, she straightened her skirt as she stood. All in one fluid motion, as though she had practiced this scenario. Barely able to restrain her desire for his imaginative ways, she strode from the café with the ding of a bell.
With every step, her unadjusted panties caught, abrading overly sensitised skin. Entering the courtyard at the front of her apartment complex, she felt Cain's hand at the small of her back. Normally the gentlemanly expression of care and protectiveness made her feel soft and feminine. Now the gentle pressure of his hand became a solid reminder of his presence. His touch kept her mind on him and instead of soft and feminine, she felt hot and urgent.
"Take the stairs."
Confused, she looked back at him. Gone was the mischievous cheek of before, replaced by an intense concentration. In the face of such a stern expression, she didn't voice the questions in her head. Instead, she followed his instructions.
"Stop.” His gravelly instruction halted her progress at the last platform before her floor. “Lean on the banister, Olivia.” Strong hands turned her to face the timber railing in question. The balustrade had always been one of her favourite things about the interior of the building. Black wrought iron topped by a shiny cedar hand railing. Much as she loved it, she'd never envisioned anything like this.
"Cain, don't be so preposterous. Someone will...” In the dark, away from anyone's line of vision was one thing. Broad daylight in the middle of a public thoroughfare was completely another.
"No one will see, Olivia."
God, even his voice was driving her wild. His tone was low, commanding, and hoarse with the effort of remaining in check so long. Books slammed on the balcony when he bent her forward, forearms along the railing so her chin could rest on her hands while he flipped up the back of her skirt and pushed her panties aside. Already pounding in her ears, her heart nearly exploded when Cain's arm snugged around her waist so his fingers could find their way back into the slick folds between her legs. He was inside her before she could take another breath. Her body surged to greet him, her climax instant. His shuddering release occurred in concert with her plummet back from Heaven. Removing himself from her, he leaned forward, bit her bottom, and flipped her skirt down with a pat and a chuckle, overlaying the madness engulfing them with light-hearted wonder.
Walking the last flight of stairs to her apartment door, Olivia felt, was both superfluous and wobbly. Following sex on the stairs, why not just lay down half-naked on the landing until the jellied satiation left her limbs? Midway up the stairs, they met old Mrs. Sanderson, whose apartment was directly opposite hers.
"Well, hello, Olivia dear. I haven't seen much of you lately, how are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Sally. I'll drop by one day soon so we can have a cup of tea and catch up.” She'd adopted the old woman immediately upon moving in. Quiet, kindly and never missing a Sunday mass, Sally Sanderson might well have suffered an aneurism had she discovered them on the stairs. Still feeling dishevelled, despite her relatively neat appearance, Olivia stepped aside to let the old woman pass.
Grasping her arm before she could continue past, Sally proceeded to horrify Olivia's sense of propriety. “Keep hold of that one, dear. He seems to make you very ... happy.” The ostentatious wink that followed left her dithering between horror and humour.
Cain had no such troubles. He seemed delighted by the old woman's recommendation. Choking his way up the last stairs and into her apartment, he let the laughter leave his chest when the door was safely closed behind them.
Spinning on her heel, she let her mortification surface. His complete lack of care for the opinion of others was really very disconcerting. “This isn't funny, Cain! I've just ruined my reputation! How will I have tea with her ever again? Would you please wipe that stupid smile off your face?” Dropping books onto the phone table, she stormed into the shower.
* * * *
While Olivia cooled down, Cain considered his next move. She was amazing. Better than that, he felt amazing when he was with her. While his conversation with Charlotte had been enlightening, his time in Olivia's tutorial and in the café had been even more so. She was smart. Not just ordinary smart, scary smart. Her eyes lit up when a student asked a challenging question and her answers were both passionate and clever. He could see now that she'd approached her relationship with him the same way she approached learning. Passionately enough to revel in the pleasures, but cannily enough to sidestep emotional attachments.
Until sitting through her class, he'd not thought about how important she'd become to him. Knowing she was special was one thing, but until he'd watched her glow with excitement while teaching he hadn't realised how deeply he felt for her. Watching her teach made him proud, made him want to jump up and shout to anyone who would listen that this was his woman! He'd never experienced that weird combination of pride, care and lust before. The diagnosis was obvious. He was madly in love with her. With that revelation, there was only one obstacle to be overcome.
Now that he'd forced Olivia into accepting that he was attached, she was going to hate what he had to tell her ... almost as much as he did. More than likely she'd try using his news as an excuse not to see him again. That wasn't an option. Losing Olivia was never going to be an option again. What he needed was a plan. If he was going to do battle with Olivia's ingrained mistrust of people or God or whatever it was she had no faith in, he'd better be certain of winning. What he really needed were reinforcements.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lying in her bed, Olivia snuggled closer to Cain. The warm summer day had turned dismal, making it cool enough in the apartment to need his warmth, but not cold enough to require a blanket. And, as he'd been the one to drag her naked and wet onto the bed with him, she figured it was his duty to keep her warm. Her temper had cooled in the shower. So much so she'd been able to smile and giggle against his neck when she'd landed naked on top of him, dampening both his body and the sheets.
This was a luxury she'd never known before, the gentle loving of a man she could be certain of, the softness in his touch, the knowing in his eyes. She was determined to appreciate all of it. Besides, something was coming, she could feel it. The tension in Cain's body and the distracted way he was tracing patterns on her shoulders, fiddling with her hair, each little gesture gave away a bit more of his mood. He was pensive, maybe even apprehensive. Whatever the case, she could wait.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, draping a leg across his hips. Was there anything more delicious than lying naked in bed with a stunning male specimen while others fought their way through mid-afternoon traffic?
"Olivia?"
"Hmm?” Blissful contentment didn't improve her vocabulary.
"Olivia, I have to go away next week."
She didn't speak, didn't open her eyes, tried not to think. She'd known about his lifestyle from the first time they'd met. She
'd known he travelled out of the country routinely. Why else was he rooming in the bloody Hyatt? Why else had he booked an escort? Logically she'd known this would happen. If his job didn't preclude the formation of lasting relationships, they'd never have met in the first place. Still, somewhere in Olivia's subconscious she'd been hoping he'd stay, hoping he hadn't barged his way into her life only to be gone again within an instant. Since his raid on her class, she'd allowed herself to build an imaginary future with him. Any number of alternative pathways leading to the same happy ending had filled her head. Now the dreaming was done and reality snapped back with the sting of an elastic band.
This wouldn't be a quick trip. Generally executives for gold companies spent months at a time overseas. She was lucky he'd been around as long as he had. Olivia knew Cain could feel her tense, no matter how hard she tried to stay supple and soft against him. She couldn't mimic relaxation while her mind began formulating ways not to miss him when he left, methods of cementing over the fissures forming in her heart.
"Olivia?"
"Oui?” Dear God, those weren't tears in her voice, were they? She needed to get past this crying jaunt she'd been on lately. In the past four days it seemed she'd done little else. Things weren't looking so dry for the future either.
"I want you to meet my family before I go. You told me about yours, let me in on your life. I want to return the favour."
"I ... I don't think that would be a good idea. I'm not good with people really.” How could he be so cruel? Introducing her to the life she'd never—would never have? It wasn't like him to be so reprehensible. Perhaps there were other reasons for his request; maybe it was his turn to make some memories. If that were the case, she could hardly deny him.
Not For Sale Page 11