by Rhonda James
"Cassie, please." Those two words come out low and tortured, each one piercing my heart. "Promise me."
"Okay, baby, I promise." And then he's there, teasing my skin with wet, open-mouthed kisses that leave me panting his name.
"Does that feel good?" he toys my nipple between his teeth as he rolls me onto my back. I pull him back to my mouth, savoring the warmth of his tongue as it seduces me with each fevered stroke. His eyes close when he fills me, and when my muscles clamp around him, he grunts his approval. What starts out slow quickly accelerates as every thrust he delivers drives him deeper inside. His head falls forward, and my lips seek out the heated flesh on his neck.
"I promise." I tell him once more as the warmth of his release fills me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
BRANTLEY
I'm not a coward. At least I've never believed I was. Heights don't frighten me. I have no trouble being stuck in tight spaces. Hell, I'm not even afraid of failure, because every failure I've suffered through has made me stronger. But right now, there are two things I fear.
Falling in love.
Losing Scott's trust.
I'll be honest, I'm nervous about Scott's reaction to finding me in his parents' living room. Obviously, he'll be surprised, but he may also become suspicious. So far, my friendship with Cassie has worked to his benefit. As long as she's spending time with me, it lessens the guilt he feels for not spending time with her. So far, he seems cool with the idea of us spending so much time together, but that's only because he trusts me to look out for her. That was before we slept together. I'm worried he's going to take one look at our faces when we're together and see right through our lies. So I make a decision to avoid her by sitting across from her at the table; that way I won't be tempted. I have to admit, it's hard keeping my hands to myself, especially when I know all the right places to touch.
I hear his voice, long before he enters the room, and do my best to act natural. Cassie catches my eye and gives me a quick wink that says it'll be okay, and I thank her with my brightest smile. My smile quickly turns to surprise when I learn he's not alone.
"Hey, everyone, look who I found outside. Mom, hope you don't mind another mouth to feed," his raucous laughter fills the room as he steps aside to reveal his guest. I recognize this guy. He plays for Minnesota. All of a sudden, the pieces start falling into place.
This guy's her ex.
"Justin?" A pained expression fills Cassie's face when he pulls her in for an embrace. "How are you?"
"I'm good. Better now that I'm back home. I've missed you." He holds her in his arms, their reunion unfolding right before my eyes, and when his lips settle over hers, I'm left with feelings I'm not ready to face. It's bad enough knowing they've had sex, but I also know this is the guy she gave her virginity to. She's told me stories about their relationship. Stories of how selfish he was in bed, and how he'd never given her more than one orgasm at a time. Hell, I gave her three just this morning, and that was before we made it to the shower. After what she told me last night, it takes everything I have not to rip this asshole's head off. Seeing his hand on her back makes me want to beat on my chest and announce to everyone she's mine. To hell with loyalty and worry over losing my best friend. Bottled rage seeps into the cracks of my heart, and I envision myself ripping her from his arms and fucking her right in front of him just to show him how it's done.
Scott's brow furrows when his eyes lock on my scowl, and for a moment I'm sure everyone can read my mind. "Cage? What the hell are you doing in my living room? I thought you were Colorado bound?" Relieved, my shoulders shrug as he makes his way across the room.
"Those plans sort of fell through, so Cassie invited me here." I answer casually.
"Well, I needed someone to keep me company during that five-hour train ride," she replies, stepping away from Justin to hug her brother. As she pulls away she looks over and gives me an apologetic smile.
"I don't care how you got here. I'm just glad to see you, brother. It's been too damn long." I step forward, and he pulls me in for a hug. "Happy Thanksgiving. Make sure to save room for mom's pecan pie. You deserve it after being stuck with this one for that amount of time." He hooks a thumb Cassie's way, and she slugs him in the arm as payback.
"Kids, no fighting. I swear, sometimes I think you're both still teenagers," she scolds them and then ushers us all to the table.
Fuming over the fact that Justin's kiss is still fresh on her lips, I ditch my plan of avoiding her and, like a caveman, stake my claim by stealing the chair beside her before he sits down. She gives me a puzzled look, as if she has no idea what's gotten into me, and all I can do is smile in return. Mr. Rivers carves the turkey, and there's a flurry of activity as dishes are passed and everyone fills their plate. Before we begin eating, he sets aside the carving knife and asks us all to go around and share one thing we're thankful for this year. I always dread these situations. I never know the right thing to say, or I'm so worried about saying the wrong thing I end up blanking out and say nothing at all. I listen as each one offers something meaningful, and all I can think about is how thankful I am to have a friend with benefits. I can't actually say that, now can I? Wait, can I? Justin goes next, and he rambles on about the blessing of seeing Cassie again, and she gives him a strained smile, but I find it interesting when it's her turn she doesn't share the same sentiment.
"I'm thankful for family, the new friends I've made, and real life superheroes," she says with a smirk, and I want to reach over and kiss that smirk away. Her answer seems to piss Justin off, and that settles my inner caveman. I discreetly reach over and run my hand up her leg, stopping only when I reach the juncture of her thighs. My fingertips brush her panties, and a rush of adrenaline surges through me when her legs clamp around my hand.
"Superheroes? What the hell kind of answer is that? Women are crazy." Scott declares with a shake of his head. "You're up, Cage, though how you'll follow that one I'll never know."
I should come up with something sappy, like I'm thankful my dad is alive and healthy, or I'm thankful to have a family to share the holiday with. Then her hand covers mine and my dick hardens to the point where I can no longer think straight. My thumb slides under the fabric, and I rake my nail over the little bud. Her eyes close, and she reaches for a glass of water. We're surrounded by her family, and her dickhead ex, yet she doesn't stop me. When her left hand wraps around my unit, I blurt out the first thought that pops in my head. "I'm thankful that twenty dollars is all it takes to have a good time."
"Dude," Scott busts out laughing, "is that all you had to spend on the stripper you hooked up with last week?"
The room goes silent, seconds tick by like minutes, and her fingers squeeze me so tightly I damn near flinch. Luckily, their dad comes to my rescue by telling us all to start eating. I hang my head, feeling like a complete asshole. I'm certain they must be wondering how fast they can kick my ass out the door. Hell, I'm already plotting my escape after I swallow my turkey and sweet potatoes.
Then, her dad speaks again, and some of the tension dissipates. "Twenty bucks. Is that all it costs these days?" Everyone around the table laughs. Everyone except Cassie. She releases her hold and shoves my hand away.
So much for a Thanksgiving hand job.
***
I try to get her alone so I can explain the stripper comment, but between Scott and an ex-boyfriend who's glued to her fucking hip, it's next to impossible. She won't even look at me, and I've tried everything I can think of to get her attention. When it's time to head over to the neighbors' cocktail party, I have no desire to go. I need to straighten this shit out, but in order to do that, I need to get her away from an ex who's clearly looking to get back together. Scott leaves to spend the rest of the weekend in Ohio with Ashley, meaning all of her attention is now monopolized by the guy whose jaw I'm about to break. I finally see an opening when she excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and I quietly follow her down the darkened hallway.
"What are you doing?" she
hisses when I squeeze through the door before she can get it closed.
"Just be quiet and listen to me for two minutes." She glowers but crosses her arms and waits for me to continue. "I never hooked up with a stripper."
"Then why would Scotty say that? He wouldn't just make that up."
"We were on the bus, coming back from our game against Boston, and he saw your response to my text. You know, the one about your dreams being sweeter when you're with me."
"Wait," she catches my forearm in a death grip, "am I still Candy in your contacts? Please say yes." Panic crosses her face at the prospect of Scott finding out.
"Yes." She lets out a huge sigh of relief and relaxes against the counter. "And that's why he started asking about you, and the whole name thing. I panicked and told him you were just some stripper I'd met." Her body visibly softens and when she steps forward and drops her forehead against my chest, I fold my arms around her. "Believe me, if he knew you were Candy, you'd have heard about it by now."
"So I just spent the last hour angry with you for nothing?" She frowns.
"Oh, I wouldn't say it was for nothing." There's a devilish gleam in my eye as I lower my mouth and steal a kiss. "Now we get to enjoy the best part of being friends who fuck and fight."
"Oh, really? What's that?" She runs her nails down my back.
"Make-up sex," I smile and brush my lips over hers in a soft kiss. I'm thinking we'll head back to her parents' house. But when Cassie pops the buttons on my fly and wraps her lips around my dick, I discover she has other plans.
After our bathroom hook-up, she leads me into the hall. We only make it three feet before she pulls me against the wall and guides my hand under her shirt. I sneak a quick glance over my shoulder, because we're in the middle of her neighbors' fucking house and I'm feeling her up against a wall. I don't want us to get caught, but the thought of someone watching is a bit of a turn-on.
"I've heard that turkey makes some people sleepy. I'm starting to think it makes you horny," I give her nipple a playful tweak.
"Then maybe you should feed me turkey every day," she answers huskily.
"Maybe I will." I give her a wink and look over my shoulder one more time. Off in the distance I see her ex watching us. I know I probably shouldn't, but I pin her against the wall and give her a kiss that leaves her breathless. Full of tongue and groping, and I believe there was even a little grinding going on. When I look back, he's gone, but there's no doubt he received my message loud and clear. The message being, She's mine, so back the fuck off.
She stares up at me. Lips parted. Skin flushed. Eyes full of adoration.
My chest tightens, and I realize there's one fear I haven't acknowledged.
I'm scared to death of losing her.
The fact I'm even thinking this way tells me my feelings for her go way beyond the lie we've been hiding behind. That crap I'd been spouting last night about keeping things carefree now burns like acid on my tongue. Right now, holding her in my arms, I know the very promise I asked her to make is one I have no intention of keeping.
As crazy as it sounds, I'm starting to think it would be wise to put some distance between us, before one of us winds up getting hurt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CASSIE
You know the old saying if it seems too good to be true then it probably is...
Well, things were great. Really, really great.
Our time in Chicago had a profound effect on me. It changed me. Changed the way I look at us. I know that I'm in love with him. And I'm almost certain he loves me too.
From the moment we met I've had a crush on him. Over time that crush turned to longing. We've spent so much time together. I never questioned when the feelings I'd been harboring began to take root. I knew early on he felt something for me, and I suspected it was something much deeper than he was willing to admit. In a way, we've constructed our own twisted puzzle, pieced together with so many truths and lies neither of us seem to notice those pieces, however jagged their edges, fit together perfectly.
Life got pretty busy for both of us after returning to Ann Arbor. I'm busy studying for finals. I've memorized most of the chapters covered in my psych lecture, and thanks to my private tutor, I'm fairly certain I'll pass calculus with a solid B-. Just last week, I started working on a new song with Mitch, the guy from my composition class, so we've been spending a lot of time in a rehearsal room.
Hockey and school have always kept Brantley busy, but two weeks ago, he picked up a part-time job bussing tables at a restaurant downtown to earn extra money for Christmas. That means if I want to see him on the days we can't hang out, I have to jump on a bus and finish my homework while the team practices. After Thanksgiving, Roni severed all ties with Josh, claiming a certain hockey player had caught her eye, so she often joins me. We huddle under a blanket and try our best to focus on our assignments, but once the guys take the ice, it's pretty hard to focus on anything else.
Last weekend he had a night off, so we went out and bought a Christmas tree. Then, we took it back to his place and decorated it with supplies we'd picked up at Target. Jordan and Davis wanted to help, so I gave them the task of stringing the lights after Brantley spent thirty minutes making sure the tree was perfectly straight. We each took turns hanging ornaments, making sure to fill every available branch, and when we were finished we turned off the lights and sat on the floor to enjoy its beauty. Scotty came home with a pizza, and the five of us talked for hours, sharing our favorite childhood memories of Christmas mornings.
Tonight I'm alone as I approach the arena. My Chucks scuff quickly over the concrete in my haste to escape the cold outdoors, only to immediately subject myself to the frigid temperature inside the rink. I tried telling myself I should stay home tonight, but we've barely spoken this week, and I can't shake the feeling he's hiding something from me.
The guys are on the ice, and practice appears to be in full swing. I scan the jerseys, searching for #27, and when I find him, my heart swells. I love watching him skate. Love the way he looks in his practice jersey. He glides gracefully over the ice. His fluid movements transport him from one end of the ice to the other in no time at all. That same sexy confidence I see in the bedroom carries over to his performance as a player. I stand behind a wall of wood and plexiglass, transfixed by the man before me. He's covered in gear, but I know every inch of the gorgeous body hidden beneath it by heart. I've memorized every line, every muscle, every vein. I know what makes him shudder, and I know how to make him moan. He could just as easily make the same statement about me. He knows me better than I even know myself. That's why the physical distance is tearing me apart. But it's not just sex that I miss. I miss they way we used to be. The way we were before sex.
I miss us.
Practice is about to wrap up, and at this point, the guys are running simple skate-and-shoot drills against the freshmen players, which are ridiculously unbalanced. It's hardly fair to put a freshmen player up against someone of Davis' or Brantley's caliber; those two dominate when they're on the ice. He looks over to where I'm standing and acknowledges me with a tip of his chin and a wink. When it's his turn, he kicks off with his skate and weaves side to side, maneuvering the puck with ease, and when he reaches the end, he draws his arm back and sends the puck flying into the net. When he skates past a group of bunnies, I notice the way he acknowledges them, but when he reaches the section where I'm standing, he lifts his glove and blows me a kiss on his way to the locker room. My heart leaps with joy at the simple gesture, because it tells me he still cares.
Once practice is over, I hang around until the guys have had their showers, and hide in a darkened corner to watch as everyone exits the locker room. Everyone except Brantley. Once I know the coast is clear, I tentatively enter the room and search for him. There's a long hall with two rooms on the left. One is a meeting area where they watch footage of their games, and study their opponents. The other is an office I assume belongs to Coach Bishop. On the right, the
hall opens to a large area lined with lockers and benches for the players. This area leads to the shower room. I don't find him in the locker room, so I can only assume he's still in the shower, or maybe he's already left and I just missed seeing him.
As I approach I hear running water and a voice. His voice. I stop and toe my shoes off before entering the steamy room. From where I stand, I can see him. His back is to me, and his hands are braced against the tile. Water runs over his back and he's speaking softly, either to himself or someone else. At this point, I'm not sure. I brace myself for the worst and bridge the distance between us. Sensing he's no longer alone, he turns his head and looks surprised to see me.
"Cassie, what are you doing back here?" He frowns.
His question offends me, and when he doesn't make a move toward me I step into the stall with him.
"Why do you think I'm here? I was worried about you. About us. We hardly see each other anymore."
"I'm fine. I told you, I've been really busy." He scrubs a hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
"You've been in here a really long time. And when I came in, you were talking to yourself. Is there something going on you're not telling me?" My fists clench at my sides in frustration, because I don't know if I should be angry or confused. The shaky feeling in my legs tells me it's something worse.
I'm terrified.
"I've got a few things on my mind I need to mull over, and I wanted to do it alone," he snaps, and I tense at the harshness in his voice.
Okay. This conversation is going nowhere fast. Guess I'll have to be more direct. I pull myself up to my full height, though he still towers over me, and step under the water with him. Fully clothed.
"Are you crazy?" he yells, just as I blurt out, "Are you dumping me?"
He stops and stares as rivulets of water stream down my face. He moves me back a half-step, so I'm no longer drowning, and rests his hands on my elbows. His face registers confusion, and I don't really blame him. We aren't dating. We're not a couple. Hell, we're not even in a relationship. And we sure as hell haven't said the unspoken L-word. Bottom line— I'm not sure what we are anymore.