No, you don’t need to torture yourself.
But what was the point of common sense if you couldn’t ignore it?
Before Maggie could stop herself, she’d crossed the room and stared down at the computer screen. She didn’t have one at home—she just couldn’t afford the extra cost of Internet and all that went with a computer. Michael hadn’t complained, and quite frankly, if he needed to work on one they went to the library.
She tapped the mouse, and the screen flickered once more before the Google home page appeared. Maggie bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder like a four-year-old about to put her hand in the cookie jar—for the tenth time. What the hell was she doing? She exhaled and before she could change her mind clicked on Images and typed “Cain Black BlackRock.”
The monitor flooded with pictures of the band—studio shots and live ones as well. One stood out. An image of Cain. He was shirtless—skin glistening and sweat soaked—a guitar in his hands and jeans impossibly low. Maggie clicked, and the photo filled the screen.
Her cheeks flushed fast and hard as if a shot of fire had erupted across them. Her heart leaped in her chest, beating against her rib cage in quick, heavy falls. That a picture could get such a reaction from her was startling, but nevertheless it had.
The shot was incredible. Cain’s eyes were closed, his fingers spread out along the fret board. The tattoo on his forearm was sexy. It lent an allusion to danger, and for some reason she liked that. Behind him, blues and purples lit his body in an eerie glow as mist curled around his legs. It was beautiful, fantastical, and yet it was his face that riveted her attention.
He looked like he was in ecstasy. As if everything he’d ever wanted was in the gold-top instrument that he was making love to.
She studied the angles of his face, the strong jaw and incredible lips. His hair was wet, curled across his brow, and hung in wild waves around his face. It wasn’t fair. That so much masculine beauty was packaged into one man.
Maggie’s palms were damp, and she swept them across the front of her T-shirt before clicking on more photos. A thought struck. She refreshed Google Images and typed “Cain Black Natasha Simmons.”
There were a ton of Cain and his wife, or rather ex-wife, Natasha, intimate moments stolen from public events and even more from his everyday life. At the grocery store, Starbucks, walking along the sidewalk, and kissing her neck as they ate dinner at a café.
They made her uncomfortable, and she closed the image window, heart in her mouth as she searched articles.
Page after page loaded of items related to Cain Black, his music, his women, and his purported wild sex life. Something about Barcelona popped up, but Maggie had no desire to read about his sexcapades with some beautiful Spanish model or socialite. One article claimed he’d been engaged to a relative of the queen. Maggie clicked on it and several pop-ups filled the screen, all of them images of Cain shirtless, sweaty—sexy as all hell. Every time she tried to close one, another would appear.
“Shit.” She bent over, and panic hit her in the chest as she clicked in rapid succession, but nothing happened. At this point there were at least seven windows open.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” The screen was frozen. “Dammit!”
“Anything I can help with?”
Maggie swallowed and closed her eyes.
This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.
“No, I’m good.” If only she could click her heels together and disappear. “Don’t come close…I’m, ah.” She sounded like an idiot.
What the hell was he doing here?
She opened her right eye, and her heart sank. It didn’t just sink, it fell into her gut, and a wave of nausea followed suit. Oh God. The screen was plastered with photos of Cain, yet one line glowed neon green. It flashed over and over and over: “Naked shots of Cain Black, click here NOW!”
Frantically she searched for the power button, but it was too late. He was there, beside her, his tall body bent forward, his eyes seeing what she saw.
“I…” She shook her head and wanted to die. If the floor had opened up and sucked her into the bowels of hell, she’d have been happy.
He moved closer still, so close she felt the heat of him against her clammy skin. Her insides were on fire, yet her teeth chattered crazily from the cold that racked her frame.
Or it could have been the abject humiliation that riffled through her body with all the subtlety of a steam engine that left her shaky.
“Here, let me.” She inched aside, hung her head, and glanced away. “It’s my old computer, and the damn thing freezes all the time.”
No shit.
“Best thing to do is a reboot.”
Cain cut the power and turned to her, his eyes glittering pools of liquid ebony. He leaned against the edge of the desk, legs spread, and Maggie blushed, realizing she stood between them. She moved, wanting to step back, but his arm shot out, and his hand—those long, warm fingers—closed along her forearm.
“Don’t.”
With that one word, underlined by a huskiness that tugged at her insides, Maggie froze. All sorts of feelings rushed through her, physical and emotional. Hot and cold. Fear and anticipation. Crazy and even crazier thoughts twirled through her mind. Images of tongues and skin and heat and those damn eyes.
An ache formed in her gut and spread, infiltrating every single cell in her body until she trembled.
She stared at him in silence, but he was too intense, and she lowered her eyes, watched the beat of his pulse at the base of his neck instead. It seemed safer somehow.
The air was thick like molasses. It had to be—she couldn’t breathe.
“What do you want to know, Maggie?” His voice was like butter, thick and silky at the same time. She shuddered as his fingers slid along her arm to pull her in closer.
Danger lurked in the air, encircling her in a mad embrace she couldn’t escape. Maybe she didn’t want to. But that would be crazy, wouldn’t it?
They were inches apart, and she inhaled the rich aroma that was all him. Wrong thing to do. It was incredibly male, tangy, full of spice, and it got her head spinning the way one too many glasses of wine did.
“Ask me anything,” he challenged. “I have nothing to hide.”
Her mouth was so dry, Maggie didn’t know if she could speak. She cleared her throat, very much aware of the fingers that caressed the delicate area between her palm and her wrist. Each time his forefinger rubbed there, a little piece of her liquefied, melted, and burned. She felt she should push away and get as far from Cain Black as she could.
What was she doing? This road she was on was dangerous, she knew this, but Maggie felt unable to get off.
“I don’t…” She shook her head, not knowing what to say. On one hand, she was mortified that he’d found her online, ogling pictures of him like a freaking teenager. On the other, his abrupt dismissal the other night stung more than she wanted to admit.
Then there was Michael.
She was confused and felt impotent with her inability to act. She’d kept her feelings locked away for so long now that it was foreign, this deluge of emotion. She was afraid to follow her wants and needs. Those kinds of things led to a dark place.
Her head shot up as a sliver of clarity cut through the fog. “What do you want?”
Cain remained silent, but something changed. She felt it. His pulse was faster, and his breaths fell in shorter, quicker spurts. Danger solidified and wrapped itself around her tight as she struggled to make sense of her emotions and get words out of her mouth.
“You said I could ask you anything,” she started in a rush. “Why are you…?” She shook her head, felt the burn in her stomach surge as a wave of anger thrust through her. “Why are you doing this?”
“This?” he asked silkily, dangerously. His gaze swept along her arm from where his hand held her still and up to her chest, where he lingered a little too long. She felt her nipples harden, felt them strain against the tight confines of her T-shirt. A shive
r rolled over her body, and she exhaled shakily as he slowly lifted his eyes and looked directly into hers.
He moved again and tugged on her gently until she was against him, tight between his legs with her hands upon his chest.
At that moment Maggie was aware of many things. The length of his lashes as he stared down at her. The golden flecks that shimmered behind the dark brown of his eyes. The accelerated beat of his heart beneath her fingers.
The thick bulge that filled his jeans and burned against her hip.
“Why am I doing this?” he asked once more, his voice husky as he lowered his head. His warm breath tickled across her flesh as ripples of desire rolled through her trembling form.
Maggie closed her eyes. She stopped breathing. And maybe the world stopped spinning, because it felt like the ground had shifted beneath her and she was falling.
His hands claimed her hips, and he turned her so that she was flush against him. So that every inch of her from the waist down was pressed into his body.
So that the place between her thighs, that hot, moist part of her, rubbed against him in a way that ached.
A groan fell from between his lips, and she shuddered as his mouth skated across her neck to settle beneath her earlobe. He nuzzled her there, and everything inside Maggie erupted in a red-hot wave of need that was so intense, her legs surely would have buckled if Cain’s strong grip hadn’t held her firm.
His hands slid upward until he cupped her head and fingers slid along her jaw in a smooth motion. He forced her to look up at him once more. “Ask me again what I want,” he said hoarsely.
Maggie closed her eyes. This was so wrong. To feel this way about a man like Cain Black. He was way out of her league. “What do you want?” she whispered.
His breath was on her face once more, caressing her skin like small whispers of magic. The ache inside was so intense it was painful.
“The answer’s real simple, Maggie.”
God, the way he said her name.
“I.” He kissed her cheek and her legs did give out, but his hands were there, and she clung to him. “Want.” His mouth slid to her temple, where his tongue darted out to taste her there. He nibbled his way down to her mouth and hovered above her lips, with only a whisper of heat between them.
She opened her mouth, felt the anticipation that tingled inside her body and was weak from the weight of it. She was coming apart, and the man had barely touched her.
It had been so long since she felt this way. On the cusp of desire and rank with its effects.
“Open your eyes, Maggie.” His voice was so low, she barely heard him. But the feel of his hands on her face was urgent, and his muscles bunched against her palms as he shifted beneath her.
She opened her eyes and ate the groan that sat at the back of her throat. Cain stared down at her as if he was starving. As if he needed her to breathe.
His right hand slid into her hair, and his lips brushed the softness of hers. His eyes never left hers as he whispered against her mouth.
“I want…you.”
Chapter 12
Cain stared down at Maggie and struggled to keep it together. She was killing him. He’d never had such a need, such an insane desire, for a woman before. Ever. And Lord knows, over the past ten years he’d seen a hell of a lot of them in all shapes and sizes.
He swallowed thickly and nuzzled her neck, loving the warm scent of her, the soft feel of her.
He’d swung by the house to see his mother—had totally spaced and forgotten she volunteered on Fridays—and at the last moment decided to come inside on the off chance that he’d find Maggie.
Find her he did.
Bent over the desk in cutoff jean shorts, her toned legs and round ass shown off to perfection. He hadn’t seen anything that hot in ages—Daisy Duke had nothing on Maggie O’Rourke—and it had awakened a truckload of fantasies that had immediately gone south. Way south. Way hard south.
She whimpered beneath him, and he groaned at the sensation left behind as she rubbed along the length of him. His already-straining cock tightened until the exquisite pain threatened to erupt.
He cupped her chin and breathed into her mouth.
“I want…you.”
His lips grazed the softness of hers, teasing and coaxing until she opened beneath him. His mouth moved over hers, and he claimed what he’d wanted for the last week. The fragrant silk of her hair surrounded them, and his fingers tangled in their folds as he deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded and stroked, and the taste of her was intoxicating. His hands traveled the length of her body until he rested upon her sweet round ass.
She whimpered again, a soft feminine sound that went straight to his gut. He clenched everything and groaned into her mouth. Christ, he hadn’t been this horny since Shelli Gouthro had pulled him from the Coach House all those years ago. Back then it had been all about getting laid, but this…this was so much more.
Maggie kissed him back, a full-on surrender, and for the longest time he held her, his mouth drinking from hers, tasting, suckling, as his hands roved as much of her as he could reach. He couldn’t help himself. She felt way too damn good between his legs.
Her hands crept up to his neck. The touch was hesitant, unsure, and that alone drove him crazy. When was the last time he’d been with a woman who wasn’t the aggressor? He couldn’t remember.
Cain lifted her into the air, coaxed her legs around him, and leaned back against the desk as her arms encircled him fully. Holy Christ, but she was every fantasy he’d ever had and more.
He groaned into her mouth. This was going way too fast. He wanted her. Badly. But he wasn’t about to have sex with Maggie on a desk in his mother’s basement. She deserved more than that. He wanted to give her more than that.
“Hey,” he whispered against her lips. “Babe, we need to stop now, or I’m not gonna be able to.”
Maggie pulled away slowly but lowered her eyes. She trembled against him, and something about how she looked tugged at his heart in a way he couldn’t recall feeling before. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and rested his chin on her head as she tucked into his embrace just like she belonged there.
For several long minutes there was nothing but silence broken by their quick, jarring breaths and frantic beating hearts. Eventually she relaxed in his arms, and for the moment it was enough.
Cain exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “So,” he said, “I need to apologize for the other night.” Maggie squirmed in his arms, and reluctantly he let go, hissing softly as she slid along his body until she was standing.
Her long red hair had fallen loose from her ponytail and hung about her heart-shaped face like a curtain, the deep color a perfect foil for her creamy skin. Her eyes were luminous, like pools of liquid navy, but it was her full lips, bruised from his mouth, that drew his attention.
They were marked. By him. And there was something primal in that that he liked.
Her tongue slid along her lower lip, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “You don’t need to…” She shook her head and looked up at him. “Michael had an amazing day, and I’m grateful you were able to give him that. If you could just…” She glanced away.
“If I could…” His hand reached for her, but she took another step back so that she was out of his reach.
“If you could just call him or something before you leave, I think he’d really appreciate it.” A small smile claimed her mouth. “He seems to think you’re a big deal or something.”
“Before I leave?” He looked confused and took a step toward her.
Maggie frowned and made a wild gesture with her hands. “To go home. Your stuff is gone. I thought you’d already left for LA, but obviously you’re heading off soon.”
Hell, no.
“Would you miss me?”
She looked surprised at his question. “I…” she stuttered and shook her head. “No, I just—”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Cain interrupted and took a step
forward until he was inches from her. She didn’t move away this time. “I’m not going anywhere. Mac and I have rented a cottage not far from Jake’s parents.”
“Mackenzie Draper?”
He nodded. “He’s the reason I bailed the other night. Some stuff happened, and Jake called. I don’t want to go into detail, but…” He needed her to understand. “He’s like family to me, and I had to leave.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Yeah, I do, and technically I owe you more.”
“More?”
“I promised your son I’d show him how to clean the fish we caught, but since I had to do it right away, I’ll get around to teaching him next time. But I still owe you a meal, and the fish is on ice, so…”
Her scent teased his nostrils as he gazed down at her. Maggie opened her mouth, but his finger was there before she could speak. For a split second, an image of her lips encircling him—and he wasn’t thinking about his finger either—rushed through his mind. The bulge between his legs thickened even more, if that was possible.
Christ, but he had to be stronger.
“You can’t say no.”
She arched an eyebrow and removed his finger from her mouth. “If I want to say no, I will,” she challenged.
Little minx. Cain smiled wickedly and leaned toward her, his mouth close to her ear. “Here’s the thing, though, Maggie. You don’t want to.”
“How do you know what’s in my head? What I want and don’t want.” She was annoyed now, but he was totally okay with that. He liked that she had spunk and didn’t roll over onto her back for him.
“Woman, I just kissed you. Trust me. You don’t want to say no any more than I want you to.”
Maggie stared at him for a moment, and then her chin jutted out. “I don’t make a habit of associating with felons.”
Okay, he hadn’t seen that one coming.
“You think I’m a felon?”
“Raine told me you and your friends were arrested. I’m not sure I want that kind of influence around my son.”
The Summer He Came Home Page 10