Before You Go

by Ava Claire

  So even though I needed help, I didn’t need the drama that came along with it.

  “Thanks, but I got it.” My response was too little, too late. He pulled bags from my arms and flooded my nostrils with Axe and hair gel.

  I sighed with relief when I scooped my keys out and opened my apartment door. I put the bags down and stood in the doorway, gesturing for the others.

  He ignored my outstretched hand and instead eyeballed the contents in the paper bags. “Tomatoes, celery, garlic, pasta—you making spaghetti?”

  My lips spread into an uncomfortable smile. “I am.”

  “You should invite me over.” He wiggled his dark, caterpillar-like eyebrows. “Growing boy and all of that.”

  I pulled my bags from him, biting my tongue. Joe was a gym rat. Overly tanned with frightening, bulging muscles that he liked to show off in T-shirts and tanks that were two sizes too small, no matter the weather. The last thing he needed was to do any more growing—or invite himself over for dinner, considering he had a girlfriend that was obviously waiting for an excuse to punch me.

  “Thanks for the help!” I shut the door in his face and turned to put up my groceries. Once I was done, I poured myself a full glass of wine. I pulled my folders from my satchel and headed to the couch.

  Wine and grading wasn’t my usual routine, but I’d gotten a head start before I left the school and knew what I was in for. The assignment I was grading was a writing prompt. The prompt was, ‘Describe a memorable moment in your life and what made it so special’. Out of the four papers I’d read, three had named Cade’s visit as their memorable moment. They talked about how funny he’d been, how exciting his story about their filming snafu was, and how they’d keep his autograph always.

  They didn’t know it, but their words were chipping away at the mountain of reasons I’d built to support why Cade and I were a mistake. The wine was to prepare me for the inevitable—when it all came crashing down, and I was left with nothing but all the reasons why he was perfect for me.

  The way his eyes washed over me every time we saw each other was the first. Not in a lewd, overtly sexual way, but slowly, like he was committing me to memory. Tucking my picture away in some mental locket. I’d felt desired before, but the way he looked at me was different. I felt wanted. Maybe even needed.

  I sipped the wine, the merlot coating my tongue like velvet. It dulled the tingling warmth in the part of me that was weak. The part that wanted to fall into Cade’s arms. Into his bed.

  “The part of me that’s a glutton for punishment,” I said aloud with a scoff. It obviously had a poor memory. It had forgotten the nights I’d spent calling Brad’s number, only to get the voicemail. Nights of pleading and praying that he wasn’t doing what I knew he was doing. Face to face with the terrible truth and his guilty eyes the morning after. I’d clearly blocked out the pain of being ripped up by his blatant lies, a new low being reached with every woman he screwed on the side.

  I’d eagerly, stupidly jumped back on the saddle with my co-worker, Mark. Another man that made promises and had an uncanny ability to make me believe in love again, only to snatch it away when I least expected it.

  I swirled the burgundy liquid around, hypnotized by its dark currents. Least expected it? I guess that wasn’t true. There had been other guys that disappointed me, but Brad and Mark had devastated me. I emerged from the pain, threw away the soggy Kleenex and empty ice cream cartons, and put on something besides a ratty tee and sweatpants. The lies were revealed, and the truth remained. The truth was, I had expected it. The first heartbreak had prepared me for every one that followed. I expected guys to disappoint me. I expected failure.

  My gaze dropped to the papers in my lap. Another Cade story...one that brought tears to my eyes.

  Skylar Greene, one of the popular boys in my class, came from a strict and oppressive home. I discovered just how strict when his father showed up the day after our LGBT section and cussed me out for poisoning his son with ‘homo BS’. Skylar, the class clown who was usually full of jokes and laughter, had cowered in the shadow of his father, not looking me in the eye. Once his father had been escorted from the building by security, Skylar trudged to his desk and didn’t say a word the entire class.

  Cade had only spent an hour in my class, fifteen minutes of that hour one-on-one with them, but Skylar had connected with him in those few minutes. His memorable moment was when he told Cade he wanted to be a teacher. Skylar’s dad told him that teaching was for women. Cade told him it took a special person to become a teacher, and any school would be lucky to have him.

  “God damn it,” I whispered hoarsely, tears spilling down my cheeks. What he said to Skylar...it would be something that stuck with him. When his father tried to tear down his dream, he’d remember that Cade Wallace believed in him. Words have the power to destroy or plant seeds that grow into something amazing. It was just a handful of words, but they could have changed Skylar’s life for the better.

  I wiped my eyes, the cynical part of me quick to remember Mark. He was great with kids. Relationships? Not so much. But it didn’t shut down my curiosity. What if Cade was the exception to the rule?

  Heat rushed over me as I remembered our last exchange, when my hands collided with his wall of delicious, tight muscle. The need that simmered in his green eyes. A need that matched my own and left me reduced to putty in his hands. I could pretend that I hated Cade’s guts, but I wanted to throw up the white flag. I wanted to be wrong about Cade Wallace, because something inside me said that being with him was right.

  My fingers stretched toward my phone, but instead of picking it up and calling Cade, I pushed it off my laptop. I pulled up my browser and typed in the address that would tell me everything I needed to know. Google.

  The Wikipedia entry to the right of the screen was filled with pictures of Cade’s megawatt smile, one in particular making my mouth water. He was on a sandy white beach, shirtless, his toned body calling to me like a siren. I cleared my throat and pried my eyes away. My cursor hovered over a recent picture, Cade at the premiere for Soldier’s Creed. The man looked good enough to eat in a suit, the dark fabric perfectly tailored to his athletic physique. The look in his eyes pulled me to the memory of us outside the bathroom at the premiere. He’d looked past my anger, and he’d seen what was beneath. My struggle to fight my attraction to a man that could break my heart as easily as snapping his fingers.

  Because somehow, even though we just met, you know me better than anyone, Megan.

  My hand slid up the hem of my denim skirt. My flesh was warm, practically breathless with excitement for what I was about to do. It was more than the fact that it had been far too long since I’d touched myself. It was Cade. His eyes, his lips, the way he robbed me of the ability to think with one look. A look that promised that I’d be safe with him. That he’d take my body to places I’d never imagined.

  My panties were already wet to the touch, pliable as I slid my fingers inside and cupped my throbbing sex. My eyes fluttered shut as I lingered. My pulse quickened to a fevered beat that brought every pore of me singing to life. This was an important moment. I could turn back, close my legs, close the laptop. Once I touched myself with Cade’s face in my head, his name on my lips, our fate was sealed. He could already see past my defenses. Once I touched myself, longing for him, my desires would burn in my eyes every time he was near. It would be written all over my face.

  “Cade.” The word rippled over me like a rock skating across cool water.

  I drew a shaky breath, ignoring my reservations, and drove my fingers inside.

  My pointer and middle finger were a tight fit and my heart quickened as juices coated the digits. I coaxed my opening, moving with tantric desire that made my head whip back and forth. I imagined the fingers were Cade’s, exploring me, savoring the sounds that my body made. The whispers and sighs. The muscles that expanded and contracted, quivering as lust set me ablaze.

  I fell back against the pillow cushi
ons, my thrusts sure and demanding. His eyes would caress every part of me; promise me that this feeling, this bliss, was just the beginning. That he’d be there for me, no matter what.

  I gripped my breast, squeezing the mound beneath my blouse and bra. My nipples pierced through the fabric, swollen to peaks. In my fantasy, Cade claimed my mound with his mouth, drawing his lips around the curve until he reached his destination. His lips hummed against the bruised pink tip, and it pebbled against his tongue. He swirled around it, moaned against it, like I was the thing that kept him together...and held the power to make him come undone.

  His mouth and fingers would work in unison as pleasure filled every part of me, leaving room for nothing but his touch. Nothing existed but our hearts beating as one. Our bodies, made for each other.

  My climax came rippling, powerfully consuming. I released and uttered his name in a broken mewl. A prayer that I got it right this time. That I found someone that was worthy of my heart. As the last pieces of my fantasy dissipated, his lips covered mine. His kiss was the answer.

  My eyes opened, the haze of lust still thick in the air. My body was still a raw, exposed nerve. Wide open and vulnerable. Cade was still smoldering at me from the screen of my laptop. His face was branded on my consciousness, all my hopes pinned on the electricity that seemed to pass between us when we were close.

  I still had my reservations and worries that he would break my heart, but it didn’t compare to the hope that bloomed inside of me. Maybe I was right about him, that he’d be another ex-boyfriend to add to the list. Another disappointment. But maybe I was wrong—and he could be the right one for me.

  Chapter Nine

  Cade

  I pulled my Porsche to the curb in front of Whitmore and Creighton. There was a cluster of men a hundred feet away from the entrance, almost lost in the crush of bodies that moved down the sidewalk. Even though I couldn’t make out the key item that set them apart, I knew they were paparazzi. They had a squirrelly, frantic energy that festered...and they all seemed preoccupied with the entrance to Whitmore and Creighton.

  Lisa leaned forward, peering at them. “Don’t worry. Jacob Whitmore worked his magic and this building is pretty much Switzerland. They can’t come within 150 feet of the entrance. We’ll be inside before they snap anything.”

  I knew they’d have ample time to capture me walking in the building, but a run-in with the paps wasn’t what made me hesitate. I could care less that a couple of news outlets saw right through my visit to the school and claimed I was just using it for publicity. Pictures of me striding into Whitmore and Creighton would just fuel the fire. But our publicity misstep was the furthest thing from my mind.

  Lisa didn’t back down, sweeping her fuchsia bangs out of her eyes so she could glare at me better. “But this isn’t about them, is it? Is this about Leila?”

  “Leila?” I frowned. “Please.” I was starting to think she’d never let me live the Leila saga down. This wasn’t some thinly veiled fear about facing the woman that got away. Leila was never mine to lose.

  This was all about Megan.

  It had been nearly a week since I’d seen her. Touched her. Since she gave me the green light to pursue her. It was what I wanted...but I hadn’t texted or called her.

  Lisa unbuckled her seatbelt, the zip of it retracting cutting through my thoughts. I tossed a look her way, and she returned it with a pensive one of her own.

  “If this isn’t about the press of Leila...” She groaned, dropping her chin to her chest. “This is about her, isn’t it? Megan Scott?”

  I played dumb. “What? No.”

  “Uh huh,” she said, not buying it. “No wonder you’ve been so quiet the ride over here. You’ve been silently pining for her since you saw her last, haven’t you?”

  “I’m Cade Wallace,” I huffed. “I don’t pine.” To prove my point of how unaffected I was, I stepped out of the car, tossed the keys and a smile at the female valet attendant, and waved at the paparazzi as they scrambled to photograph me.

  I cycled through the revolving door, tilting my chin up and taking in the bustling lobby of Whitmore and Creighton. Everyone was clad in blouses and suits, fading into the background among the stark white walls and imposing artwork. Everything was crisp and modern. Impersonal.

  After Lisa drank it in like we hadn’t come here countless times, she picked up where she left off. “Nice try, but you know the whole macho act doesn’t work on me. Especially considering you’re the one that made me do a background check to find out everything I possibly could about her.”

  She was dangling an enticing carrot, but I didn’t bite. “We should head up. You know Miss Diaz hates to be left waiting.” I strode in the direction of the elevator, stopping when I realized I wasn’t being accompanied by the familiar squeak of my assistant’s flats. She stood where I left her, jaw on the floor. You’d think she was an actress with all of the dramatics.

  “Miss Diaz? Not Missy? You’re all business now?”

  I winked at her. “You know me.”

  She took hesitant steps in my direction. “Yeah, I do know you. And that’s why I can’t believe that you’ve done a complete 180 from the guy that was staring at Megan like you wanted to take a knee.”

  Take a knee? Marriage? Just the word made a pang shoot through my chest. The last time had carved a piece of my heart out. It had changed me. It’s why I hadn’t been serious with anyone. I didn’t want to go down that road unless I was absolutely sure.

  Marriage. I already knew that Megan looked killer in a dress. She was a fighter and she was good with kids and would be a great mother—

  What the fuck? You’re thinking about kids, and you haven’t even been on a date?!

  I tugged at my collar, panic making me sweat. “Now’s not the time, Lisa.”

  She twirled a dark strand around her finger as we stepped into the elevator. “Good point. I guess you wouldn’t care that her favorite dessert is dark chocolate gelato and after a long day she camps out at Tegan’s Gelateria on 17th.”

  I pictured Megan curled up, licking a spoon clean...then pulling her toward me and whispering my plans for her tongue...

  I reached forward, punching our floor button impatiently. “Why are you doing this, Lisa? I thought you wanted me to stay away from her. You didn’t even want to look into her two weeks ago.”

  “That was before I saw you two together,” she answered. When I faced her, I paused. She’d never been so earnest about any woman before. In fact, she generally called any woman I was interested in a two bit skank.

  “She’s different, Cade,” Lisa said softly.

  So we were back to that. I rolled my eyes and turned back to the front. This was the longest elevator ride of my life. “You’ve said that already. I know she’s different. I know you think she’s too good for me—”

  “It’s not that,” she interrupted gently. “You’re different with her. Different in a good way.”

  The doors slid open, but neither of us moved a muscle. Someone cleared their throat behind me and I exited, warmth flaring across my face. I hadn’t even realized we weren’t alone.

  “Well, that conversation is gonna destroy my street cred,” I joked as we pointed toward the conference room.

  “Anddd he’s back,” Lisa said sarcastically, shaking her head as a smile teased her lips.

  I wanted to tell Lisa how right she was. That her words were the very reason I’d taken a step back. I knew that Megan was special...that we could have something amazing. And it terrified me. My track record with relationships was impressively horrible. And the idea of hurting Megan was enough to make me take a step back and figure out how to do this right.

  Missy stood in front of the nearly empty room, her assistant typing away on a laptop to her right. The fiercely professional woman I’d encountered at the bar was in full effect. A tight, frigid bun was perched on the top of Missy’s head, and she was clad in black from head to toe.

  “Mr. Wallace?” She glan
ced down at her wrist, then back up at me with surprise flitting around her dark eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  What she meant was she wasn’t expecting me on time. The dig rolled off me, and I flashed her a smile. “Let’s get to work.”

  If she was impressed by my attitude, it was nowhere to be found on her stony face. She picked up the folder in front of her and leafed through the contents. Her heels snapped on the floor as she made a circuit around the room and deposited a series of papers in front of us. “It appears our attempts at making you more likable have backfired.”

  I skimmed the papers, anger building. “’Actor Cade Wallace uses underperforming students in a ploy to woo moviegoers’?”

  “It’s just a couple of stories,” Lisa said reassuringly. “It’s been awhile since any celebrities have done or said anything stupid, so they’re trying to make their own drama.”

  “Well, they’re doing a fantastic job.” Missy returned to the front. “And it’s more than a few stories. Ten publications have run negative stories. Even CNN picked it up.”

  “It’ll blow over once the movie is out and everyone sees how amazing Cade’s performance is,” Lisa’s voice had taken on the defiant edge that I found equal parts endearing and annoying.

  “Your support is admirable but virtually pointless,” Missy said matter-of-factly. “’Cade Wallace controversy’ is a trending google search, which is proof that this is more than a couple of bored journalists.”

  Lisa opened her mouth to protest, but I shook my head. “She’s right, Lisa.”

  Lisa twisted her lips into a scowl and closed her folder. I turned to Missy and put aside my ego.

  “What do I need to do to fix this?”