by C. J. Lake
Just then they heard rustling at the front door and the jangle of keys. Soon Quinn entered the apartment, looking sweaty and hoisting a gym bag over his shoulder. “Oh, hey,” he said, spotting them in the kitchen.
“Hey, man,” Mick said, then took Cady's hand. She threaded her fingers through his, feeling a certain excitement of a new boyfriend, even though they hadn't titled anything and oh yeah he was her stepbrother so he already technically had a title in her life. But she pushed that distressing thought away, just as she had since the night of the wedding. In fact, there seemed to be a tacit understanding between her and Mick about not acknowledging any family connection. Neither had spoken a word about their parents since Linda and Brandall went away. It was almost like the marriage didn't exist.
On Quinn's heels, came Walker and his girlfriend, Jen, somehow snuggling as they walked, in the middle of an argument about who was hotter (“You look so, so hot tonight, bunny,” Jen was saying, to which Walker's reply was something like, “No, babe, you're the super-hot one, I can barely even concentrate...”) There was something nauseating and yet endearing about their mutual adoration. Something to envy in that insulating cocoon in which their relationship seemed to live.
“Want to finish the movie in my room?” Mick said quietly, pulling Cady's attention back to him—though it had never truly left that place.
“Okay,” she replied, smiling warmly at him, trying not to show how much she wanted to go to his room.
Chapter Thirty-six
Mick's bed was made but crookedly, leaving Cady to suspect that making his bed wasn't a natural course of action for him, but rather something he'd hastily done tonight for her benefit.
Casually, Cady surveyed the room and took specific notice of the wooden bookshelf on the wall, above Mick's bed. Filled with paperbacks, the shelf appeared in disarray; some books were lined vertically with the spines out, and while others were stacked up horizontally. And then there were the paperbacks that were randomly shoved on top of an otherwise neat row of books. Curiously, she edged closer to get a better look.
“You have a lot of novels,” she remarked, as her eyes scanned the various titles.
“Oh—yeah, I love historical thrillers,” Mick told her, following Cady's gaze to his bookshelf. “Historical mysteries, too.”
“Really?” she said, impressed. “I haven't read too many of those, actually.”
“They're the best,” Mick commented, coming closer, “they have so much detail. Really interesting to see it all worked into a story line, plus, a lot of times, actual historical figures are the main characters.” Then, without further trying to sell her on historical fiction, Mick just shrugged. “I usually read before I go to sleep.” The image of Mick lying in bed reading only heightened Cady's attraction to him. To her, reading was a personal, thoughtful, and often cerebral experience—the fact that Mick enjoyed it was deeply appealing. “Or sometimes on Sunday morning,” he added wryly, “when everyone else is hung-over around here.”
“Well, I'd like to try one sometime,” Cady said, nodding toward the bookshelf.
“Yeah?” Mick said with a quirk of his lips.
“Sure. Which is your favorite? I'll read that one first,” she offered.
“All right,” Mick said, nodding. “I've got a great one for you...” He easily reached the shelf, pulling out a fat, slightly tattered paperback from the center. Two Patriots' Promise by Bartholomew McHenry. “Here—this is an incredible story. Amazing battle scenes, too. I know a lot of what happened has been fictionalized, but still... Really makes you think.”
Charmed, Cady couldn't help but smile, assuring him, “Okay, I can't wait to read it.” She glanced around Mick's room again. Yes, it was small and messy, but upon a more careful (and totally biased) glance, Cady concluded that it was actually very cozy. And she loved being here with him.
She walked over to Mick's desk, to set the novel down for now, and saw the same slight-chaos amid the notebooks, textbooks, and papers. As her eyes roamed over the loosely straightened piles, she noticed a syllabus for one of his classes. “Ethics in History with Professor Stone?” she said, lifting up the syllabus with a smile. “I love Professor Stone! I took his Ethics and the Law seminar last year.”
“Yeah, I know,” Mick replied casually, as he moved his backpack and kicked a sneaker out of the way to clear a path for Cady to the bed.
“I told you that already?” she asked.
“No. Actually, I was in that class, too. You just don't remember.”
That floored her, if only because he'd never mentioned it before now.
Eyes widening, she said, “You were? Where did you sit?”
“In the back. I just happen to remember you, that's all.”
“Really? Why didn't you say that when we first met?” she asked curiously.
“It didn't come up, I guess.”
Then Cady realized: Mick couldn't tell her that first night, because he and Quinn had been pretending they were out of school and worked in “private security.” Or, Quinn was pretending and Mick was going along with it (a semantical difference, at best). She almost teased him about it now, but decided not to bring all that up. They were having such a good night together, why taint a clean slate?
Setting the syllabus back on the desk, she remarked, “Well, I'm surprised you even remember me. That class was huge.”
“True,” he said with a nod, stepping closer to her, swallowing up whatever space was between them in this small room. “But Stone passed out your paper once.”
It took a moment for the memory to spring up and then Cady cringed. “Oh...I forgot about that.” Shaking her head, she mumbled, “So embarrassing.”
Surprised, Mick halted for a moment, studying her. “That embarrassed you? I was impressed.”
Just then, Cady noticed a bold-lettered item on the syllabus. “Wait, Mick—it says you have a paper due tomorrow?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, obviously not thinking much of it.
Still, she felt a twinge of concern. “I'm not keeping you from working on that, am I?”
“Nah,” he said, brushing off the idea and sliding his arms around her waist. “It's fine, I'll just do it tomorrow morning.”
“Well, what time's your class?” she managed, as Mick leaned down and gently kissed her neck.
“Twelve o'clock,” he mumbled against her skin. For a moment her eyes slid closed and she was dividing her concentration between how good it felt and how Mick was going to get his paper done on time. If she recalled, Professor Stone wasn't a particularly easy grader.
Not wanting to be annoying, she couldn't help asking, “Were you going to set the alarm tomorrow?”
When he pulled back enough to look at her, she could tell that he'd misunderstood the meaning of her question. “Well, what time did you have to be in class tomorrow?” he said suggestively.
“Not until one.”
“See, now that's perfect...” he said huskily and went back to work on her neck. His hands roamed lower, holding onto her ass like it was as natural as sticking his hands in his pockets.
Before he could divert her with thoughts of an extended morning hook-up, Cady said, “Mick, you should probably be doing that paper. I'm distracting you tonight.”
“Cady, relax,” he murmured, pulling back. Gently, he used his knuckles to brush some hair away from her cheek. “I've written my other two papers for that class in the morning; I always get a 'B.' It's fine.”
She paused for a moment before she relented. “Okay.”
“What?” he said, narrowing his dark eyes.
“It's nothing, it's just...” Her voice trailed off as she weighed the benefits of being honest. “It's just that if you can get a 'B' just throwing a paper together at the last minute, well, I can't help but think that if you put in a little more effort, you would definitely get an 'A.' That's all. Unless, for some reason, you don't want an 'A'...”
Mick rolled his eyes a bit impatiently, his hands slidi
ng off her ass as he took a step back. “Well, of course—I mean, who doesn't want an A?” he began, obviously caught off-guard. In fact, when he sort of glanced around for a second, as though searching for a response, Cady regretted her presumptuousness. It wasn't like she was trying to grade-shame him. It just seemed clear that Mick was bright, but a bit of a slacker. Still, it was none of her damn business. God, I hope he doesn't dump me. “I guess I could start the paper tonight,” he said finally.
“Wha—really?” Cady responded, surprised.
“Yeah. I mean, I see your point. Why cram it all in tomorrow morning, right?”
“That's all I was saying. But I'm not trying to change you or anything,” she added quickly—awkwardly.
Fortunately Mick just snorted a laugh at that. “Sure you're not,” he said with the same sardonic tone she had used on him yesterday.
Even though he didn't seem annoyed, Cady felt this compulsion to apologize for butting in. “Mick—”
“Look, it's obvious that A's turn you on,” he said drolly, cutting her off. “I can take a hint.” Feeling utterly disarmed, Cady sighed as she felt color washing over her cheeks. “But you're not going anywhere,” Mick added and reached for his laptop, lifting it off his desk.
Confused, Cady crinkled her brow. “I thought you wanted to work—”
“You can stay here while I work on it. Finish your movie, if you want,” he suggested, motioning toward the small flat-screen TV hanging on the wall across from his bed. “Or just read or go to sleep or lay there thinking about me. But I don't want you to leave.” He stated it so matter-of-factly, almost as if she didn't have a choice, but then his mouth hitched and he gave her this endearing, boyish look that made her like him even more. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Cady agreed, hearing the catch in her voice, as her eyes locked with Mick's. “I'll stay.” The long gaze they held flooded her chest with a warm rush of emotion. In some distant corner of her mind, she reminded herself that this relationship wasn't built to last. And the often-ignored voice of caution whispered for her not to get too attached. But Cady chalked all this up to “over-thinking” and happily shoved it aside.
~
It was almost two o'clock when Mick finally shut down his laptop, rubbed his bleary eyes. While he'd been working on his paper, he'd stolen glances at Cady on his bed, at first she was watching the rest of her movie, but on her phone so she wouldn't disturb him. After that, she read for a while. And then she'd fallen asleep. She always looked so sweet when she slept, so soft and peaceful; there was something about the picture that stirred a primal protective impulse in him.
Now, after rising from his desk with a stretch, he stripped off his tee shirt and jeans, and flopped into the bed beside her in just his boxers. His mind was suddenly exhausted, though not too tired to register a sense of pride he felt about the draft he'd written tonight. Once he'd gotten into it, he had ended up working hard to make it a damn good paper. He would re-read it in the morning and make any last minute changes...he still had to double-check one of the references...
His focus was fading out now, tiredness graying out his thoughts and not letting his mind finish sentences.
Automatically, as sleep covered his mind like a blanket, Mick rolled closer to Cady, slinging his arm around her waist, and sighed with a soul-deep relief.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Mick woke to the feel of Cady's warm, softness. His body reacted instantly, his morning hard-on throbbing as he hugged her closer, burying his face in her hair. They were spooning so he was already nudging her ass with his cock, and now started grinding against her, sighing gruffly when he heard her moan. Then she turned in his arms.
He didn't know how long he'd slept; it could have been hours or only minutes. He'd gotten stuck with the bedroom that had no windows, so Mick's room was pitch-dark even in the early morning.
Now, he could barely see Cady's face in the darkness, but he could hear the quickening of her breath as she whispered his name. Her soft, warm hand slid down his stomach into his boxers, then she was stroking him and they were kissing. “What time is it?” she whispered when their mouths broke.
“No idea,” he rasped, too aroused to guess, and covered her lips with his again, pulling her into a deep, searching kiss that escalated quickly. His mind was still tired, but his body was awake.
Cady rolled on top of him, or maybe Mick had dragged her up, but soon his hand was tangled in her hair as she was straddling him, rocking her body, rubbing his dick harder against her. She still had her panties on and Mick could feel the thin fabric getting wetter with each motion; it was driving him fucking insane. She had borrowed one of his tee shirts for bed, and now Mick was wrestling impatiently with the damn thing, bunching it up so he could touch her. Sweat broke out on his neck. It was suddenly a thousand degrees and his heart was sprinting.
Looking back, it was almost a blur. The kissing, the grasping, the panting. Shedding their last scraps of clothing. The ripe outline of Cady's breasts, the heat of their bodies. Mick reaching for a condom. Hearing her gasp as he slid inside her. The white-hot friction and those helpless, hungry little cries of hers that set his blood on fire. Fuck, it was even better than he remembered.
Afterward, they lay quietly, spooning again, with Mick's mouth gently tracing the curve of Cady's neck. It was becoming a habit, this affection between them. Also the feel of her, the way she sighed, the alluring way she smelled.
When Cady finally spoke, her voice was sleepy. “By the way, I never asked you,” she began, pausing briefly to yawn and roll her shoulders in a stretch. “Do you want to go with me to Rex's and Preeti's house on Thursday? Or will that be too obvious?” Before Mick could respond, she argued, “Maybe we should arrive separately, now that I think about it, so no one will suspect anything. Then again, it would be normal for me to offer you a ride since I have a car...”
His post-sex fog clearing, Mick realized she was talking about Thanksgiving, and also that he'd forgotten to tell her he wouldn't be there. He supposed he hadn't figured that Cady was expecting him to go. Their parents weren't home from their honeymoon yet, so why would Mick show up at Rex Killoren's house for a major holiday, when he barely knew the guy?
Now he realized he probably should have mentioned his plans to her.
“I'm actually not going to Thanksgiving at your brother's,” Mick mumbled. His hand was still strumming lightly over Cady's hip, and he placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I'm going away for the weekend—leaving Wednesday actually.”
Her back stiffened for a moment. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “I...okay, I didn't know that.”
Mick explained, “I'm meeting my dad in Albany for Thanksgiving. My grandmother lives there. My dad figured that since my mom's not around this Thanksgiving, I could come to Thanksgiving with him.”
Nodding, Cady said, “I understand.” Still, there was a slight dip in her voice. Mick had to admit, her disappointment kind of touched him. “So...are you taking the bus?”
“No, I'm driving to Connecticut with Terrence. His best friend from high school goes to UConn and there's supposed to be some insane party. Terrence asked if I wanted to come along.”
“That's Wednesday?”
“Yeah. Then I'm grabbing a flight in Hartford on Thursday morning. The flight to Albany from there is really short.”
“Hmm,” Cady murmured, then paused, thoughtfully. She surprised him when what she eventually said was, “But I thought you didn't like parties.”
At that, Mick gave a laugh. “We already talked about this, Cady. I'm not a hermit, remember?” he joked, reminding her of the similar conversation she'd initiated with him when they'd run into each other at that Halloween party. While she was correct that hype about some huge party didn't really impress Mick these days, there was a part he was leaving out of the story. He had agreed to these UConn/Albany plans during that two-week stretch of time that Cady had gone dark on him. After they'd seen each other at Polar, and she'd basicall
y rejected him.
During that period of silence from her, Mick had felt sort of pissed and hurt. He'd been ready for agreeing to any set of plans that would take him out of Boston and help get her out of his mind. If things had actually been progressing between them at that time, then Mick definitely would have passed on the UConn trip and possibly on Albany, too.
“I'll be back Sunday night,” Mick offered casually, like it was no big deal. It really shouldn't be, right? They'd only just started spending time together. It wasn't like they couldn't handle a few nights apart. Still, he felt a coil of tension in his chest now, thinking about it, don't ask him why.
Cady mumbled some halfhearted agreement. Mick couldn't tell if she was disappointed simply because he was going away for a few days, or was it something about the party he'd mentioned...? Before he could try to figure her out, she asked, “Are you close with your dad?”
He blinked at first, not expecting that question. Then he hugged her tighter. Good, she wasn't pissed at him. Not that she should be pissed...but girls sometimes had a way of surprising you with it. “Not really,” he answered. “I mean, I guess we are. In a way. Nah,” he corrected himself, not seeing the need to bullshit her. “We're not that close. I think he's trying to make up for that now.”
“Was he not around much when you were growing up?” she fished, her voice tentative. “Or was he tough on you...or mean...?”
Shaking his head, Mick said, “Nothing like that. He's not a mean guy and honestly, he wasn't around enough to be tough on me. He was always traveling, it seemed like.”
“Your mom told me that he works in sales?”