by C. J. Lake
Soon both his hands were in her hair, tangling it, holding her close as she dug her fingers into his biceps and opened her mouth wider, her tongue as searching and aggressive as his. It was a hardcore kiss—a let's fuck now kiss—which prompted Mick to scoop her up, and carry her around the corner to her bedroom.
They didn't make it as far as her bed, but landed against her desk instead. Both were panting and impatient. She was fumbling with his zipper, while he was sliding his fingers under the elastic edge of her panties. As soon as he touched her, he grunted with savage arousal. Her pussy was scorching-hot, wet...and when her hand closed around his dick, he actually felt her getting wetter. “Cady...” he groaned thickly, “...you are so fucking perfect...”
Still gripping his cock, she made some trembling, incoherent reply, dropping her head onto his bare shoulder, nearly whimpering as he touched her. Vaguely Mick heard her whisper, “I put the condoms in the left-hand drawer...” but he was too entranced with touching her to focus on condoms yet. Mick meant to stroke her gently, to caress her, to build up to things...but instead, acting on pure desire, on impulse, he slid two fingers inside her, making her gasp. When she urged him on—moaning, biting his shoulder, stroking him harder—he went all in and fucked her with his hand until she came.
“Kiss me,” Cady begged, still panting, arching up for his mouth.
Then Mick was kissing her again, deeply, intensely, his hot tongue dominating her.
“I missed you so much,” she breathed when their lips parted. Her words did something to him. Grabbed onto his heart, wouldn't let go. Condoms...where did she say the condoms were...? Left-hand drawer, Mick recalled, yanking open the lone, tall drawer on the left side of Cady's desk, and hurriedly reaching for one. Once he was sheathed and ready, he had every intention of carrying her to the bed—but then Cady wrapped her legs around him and rocked her body against his. She seemed eager for him to take her right there.
Okay, they'd start on the desk, and make their way over to her bed...or, hell...maybe not.
Once they started, they were banging hard. The sex was raw and intense. He'd never done it against a desk and maybe it should have been awkward, especially with his jeans just shoved down and her panties barely out of the way, but it was hot as hell, because it was passionate and animalistic and because it was Cady.
The desk slammed back and forth against the wall, spilling notebooks and pens onto the floor, and Cady clung to Mick, hugging his neck, her legs gripping his waist, as though afraid she might topple over next. He dragged his hand through her hair, hungrily tilting her neck so he could run his tongue over her pulse, kissing and sucking that sensitive spot she had, and she moaned urgently. Christ, those eager, turned-on little cries of hers drove him wild. He didn't know how much more he could take, the heat between them was too combustible. The friction unbearable. Inevitably, Mick lost it. Hot lust coursed powerfully through his veins like a flood of lava, and he started to come. He growled darkly as his climax shook him, rolling through him like a blistering, fucking fantastic force of nature.
~
Afterward they found their way to her bed, which was only about three feet from her desk, so don't ask her why they hadn't been able to make it there before. Once they were both naked and under her covers, the heat from their bodies made Cady's bed feel more like a cocoon. To call it “cozy” would be an understatement. This felt utterly warm and safe and perfect. With a satisfied sigh, Cady smiled to herself and then smiled even more when Mick rolled her closer to him.
“I just realized something...”
“What's that?”
“It's the middle of the day,” Cady said.
“And?”
“And we're in bed. Are we actually going to go to sleep right now?”
“Why not? I have jet lag.”
“Right,” she laughed.
“You're not tired?”
“Actually I sort of am,” she admitted. “After you sapped my strength.”
He grinned at that. “My pleasure. Get your rest for the next round. I've barely even fucked you yet.”
Heat flamed her cheeks. “What!” she said. “You must be kidding...”
“Trust me, I'm not,” he replied, his deep voice raking over her body as if he was running his fingers on her again.
“And do you have to put it like that?” she asked.
He slanted a glance at her. “What? Fucking?”
“Yes. It just sounds so...savage.”
There was something inexplicably exciting about it, too—but that wasn't the point. Meanwhile, Mick grinned at her and corrected himself. “Sorry. I meant: making love.”
Holding back a smile, she rolled her eyes and gave him a shove. “Well, do you have to put it like that now?”
He burst a laugh and shook his head with mock consternation. “There's just no pleasing you.” Tightening his arm around her, he cuddled her even closer. “Or is there...?” he murmured huskily.
Already Cady felt her pulse quicken—so much for being tired. She'd thought she was enervated...but now she licked her lips, instinctively priming them for something. It was an unfamiliar rush of crazy—this maddening, contradictory effect Mick had on her.
“I just need to rest for a second though,” he mumbled, nudging over so that he was fully spooning her. He rose up on his elbow to drag a pillow under his head when suddenly he pulled something out. “Hey, what the...?” he began. Cady glanced over and watched him pull out a wrinkled garment from under the pillow.
She recognized it instantly, of course.
“This is a guy's shirt,” Mick said sharply. Sounding pissed, he began, “What the hell—” Then stopped. “Oh, wait.” He paused looking more closely at it. “This is my shirt.”
Blushing a little, Cady rolled her eyes and played it off. “Yes, thank you, I know that.” Did he honestly think she would hook up with another guy while he was gone? Granted things weren't officially established between them yet, but come on. “You left it here.”
“But what's it doing in your bed all wrinkled up?”
“I'll ask Torie if she has an iron,” Cady offered as a way to dodge the question—since Mick hadn't actually left his shirt in her bed. It was an over-shirt that he'd left in Cady's living room on Tuesday night, but hopefully he wouldn't remember that.
“Did I leave it in your bed?” Mick continued, sounding merely curious. “The last time I was here, I'm pretty sure I got you naked before we even made it to your bedroom.” At times Mick had a certain cocky tone that Cady couldn't even be mad at, because with him, there was always a trace of irony to it, not genuine arrogance.
“Sometimes I sleep with it, that's all,” she explained.
Fine, so there it was. She had admitted it. No big deal. So she had taken Mick's over-shirt—which was worn and blue and smelled like him—to her bedroom, and cuddled up with it every night that he was away. Hardly a startling revelation. (Which was why she'd made sure to shrug casually as she'd told him.) And yet...
The admission left Cady feeling a little vulnerable. Sort of exposed. Especially when Mick didn't say anything. In fact, there was silence in the room except for the rattling of the T that ran parallel to Cady's building. For once, the noisy train felt like a blessing.
Cady swallowed hard—right before she felt Mick's arm slide around her waist and cinch her even closer to him. Her heart swelled in her chest, literally felt like a balloon of emotion that could either burst or float her away blissfully into the clouds. She already cared about him way too much.
“So you missed me, huh?” Mick said softly, intimately. Again Cady swallowed, wetting her lips. His question reminded her of how she'd blurted out “I missed you so much” while they were grinding on top of her desk and Mick hadn't said anything in return. Considering that, Cady figured there was no sense denying that she missed him, but no sense gushing, either.
“Sure,” she replied casually.
“How much?” he asked, his breath fanning the back
of her ear.
“Um...you know, just a typical amount.”
“Liar.” She could almost feel his smile against her hair. “You missed me a lot.”
Since she was safe—meaning, still facing the wall—Cady asked a bit tentatively, “You didn't miss me?”
Mick didn't hesitate. And he was so nonchalant, she wasn't even sure he noticed that her heart was in his hands at that moment. He just gave a brusque sort of laugh and said, “Are you kidding me? I literally couldn't wait to get back here. Why do you think I took an earlier flight?”
The balloon in her chest swelled bigger—more happiness, probably too much happiness. She bit her lip, smiling. But, despite her spiking emotions, she kept the conversation lighthearted. “Well, remind me later, I have something for you,” she said.
“Yeah? What?”
“Oh, no big deal, just a book,” Cady replied, playing it down for some reason. “I happened to see online that Bartholomew McHenry was having a book signing in Cambridge yesterday. He has a new novel out.”
“Really?” Mick said.
“I just figured you might like a copy. So I went to the signing and got one for you.”
“Wait...” Mick leaned up then, urging her to turn her head, tipping her face up toward him. “You trekked to Cambridge just to get a signed copy of McHenry's new book for me?”
“Yes, but I didn't mind,” she said.
He grinned at her. “Thanks. Wow, you didn't have to do that.”
Cady felt herself blush a little, and brushed off the praise. “I know. Like I said, no big deal.”
“Was it crowded? At the signing?”
“Yes,” Cady admitted.
“So you had to wait on line?”
“Well of course,” she laughed. “He's a huge bestseller.” She didn't mention that McHenry had been forty-five minutes late and then spoken for an hour before the line to get a signed book even started to move. There was freezing-rain all day on Saturday so by the time Cady returned home, she looked like she'd just washed ashore. It had taken a hot shower, followed by an unappetizing cup of Ramen noodles and a blanket-cocoon to finally cure her shivering. Mick didn't need to know all that, because...well, who piled on a big martyr story when they were trying to give a gift?
Switching subjects, Cady said, “Was it good to see your grandma? And other family?”
“Sure, definitely,” Mick said, settling back down on the pillow, nestling close to her.
“I guess 'Muffin' hated seeing you go,” Cady added glibly.
“Oh, no doubt,” Mick agreed with a stretching yawn. “But she'll be fine. A few Milk-bones and she'll forget I even existed.”
“Well, you didn't miss much around here,” Cady commented. “Rex and Preeti tried, but...it just didn't feel like Thanksgiving. Not without my mom there.”
“Yeah, I get it,” he said with a tenderness to his voice. “When my parents first split up, holidays felt weird at first. Disappointing.”
“Yeah,” she agreed glumly.
“My dad's going to be in Hawaii for Christmas this year,” he mentioned.
“Really?”
“Yep, there's a sales conference in Honolulu.”
“Over Christmas?” she said, surprised.
“The week before,” Mick clarified. “But my dad has friends down there, so he's going to stay through the holidays, after the conference. I have an open invitation to go with him.” Before Cady could panic that Mick was slipping away to Hawaii when she'd just gotten him back in Boston, he said, “But I'm staying here.”
Softly, she sighed with relief. “I'm glad,” she admitted. Mick's arm cinched a little tighter around her waist; it was probably this gesture of affection that prompted Cady to keep talking, confiding, “Christmas is bound to be an even bigger disappointment than Thanksgiving. I can't really explain it, it doesn't make sense, I never thought we were the perfect gushy family or anything, but...it was all I knew. It was a reality I was counting on, I guess. Now everything is different and fractured. My mom is halfway around the world, robbing the cradle with some guy named Rodrigo, and my dad has turned into some starry-eyed romantic I don't even recognize. But he's happy, so I can't begrudge him that,” she was quick to add. “I guess I just thought they were happy the way they were. It's unnerving to find out they weren't, and that the four of us together, as a family, that I don't have that anymore. And I never will.”
“It doesn't have to be as bad as you're making it sound.”
“You think I'm being too negative?” she said with a lilt of hope in her voice.
“Of course, babe,” he assured her, his voice husky and affectionate. She couldn't help noticing, it was the first time he'd used a pet name with her. “Everyone's still there for you, just the technical details of the relationships are scrambled, that's all.”
“Maybe you're right...”
“That's how you've got to think of it.” Mick hugged her a little tighter, and rose up enough to kiss her cheek. “Christmas will be good this year, okay? I'll make sure it is.”
“How? What do you mean?”
“I won't let you be sad, that's all.” His voice sounded thicker, sleepier. “Trust me.”
“I do,” Cady admitted softly—more to herself, as Mick drifted off to sleep.
Settling warmly against him, she shut her eyes as her mind relaxed...so much, in fact, she didn't even notice at first...
Mick still hadn't said a word about the party at UConn.
Chapter Forty-one
On Tuesday Cady stopped by Jordan's house to help him with a paper and then stayed for dinner. Aunt Helen and her friend, Pauline, who was also a mathematician, were engaged in a heated professional discussion as they went about clearing the table. Cady had offered to help, but Helen had immediately waved off the idea.
“So is it strange now that your dad's remarried?” Jordan asked quietly.
“Yes and no,” Cady answered her cousin, who remained seated beside her. She was reluctant to say too much in front of Helen, who was Hortense's sister, but fortunately, she and Pauline were not paying attention as they headed into the kitchen, continuing to debate the obsolescence of a T-square.
Rain poured noisily outside, sounding fierce and relentless, as wind rattled the Medieval-style windows. On Cady's drive over, the sky had been pale blue and clear, but then a storm had erupted out of nowhere.
Yesterday, Cady and Mick had done another Monday-night-movie at his place—Le Feu Follet, with several make-out breaks amid Cady's note-taking, and with Mick routinely checking the football score. She planned to see Mick again tomorrow, assuming she finished all of her reading. As of now, she was behind on her homework, because she'd spent most of Sunday with Mick.
After he had surprised her by showing up at her door, he'd ended up staying. Cady smiled to herself now, replaying Sunday in her mind. Mick's grin, his sarcasm, his strong arms around her. They'd slept, talked, ordered pizza, watched football...and then there was the steamy shower they shared...plus, cuddling on the couch and having way too much wine... Seriously one of the best days she could remember.
“Yes and no, how?” Jordan asked, bringing Cady back to the present.
She offered a halfhearted smile. “On the one hand, I'm sure it will be strange when the reality sets in that my dad has a wife now,” Cady explained, lifting her linen napkin from her lap and loosely folding it on top of the table. “I'll get used to it, but it's just going to be weird seeing him with someone other than my mom...” Her voice trailed off for a moment, her mind pensive. Snapping out of it, she reasoned, “On the other hand, nothing is real yet because my dad and Linda are still away.”
“When do they get back from their honeymoon?”
“Tomorrow,” Cady replied a bit glumly. She did miss her dad but... She hadn't spoken to him at all during the ten days that he'd been in Nantucket, and if Mick had spoken to his mom, he'd never mentioned it. It was like Cady and Mick were on their own private cloud. So would it be too uncomforta
ble when their parents returned? When Linda and Brandall tried to rally the whole “family” together for the holidays? Or maybe the happy newlyweds would blow off everyone for Christmas, as they had done with Thanksgiving?
“What's your new stepbrother like anyway?” Jordan asked, reaching for the last dinner roll before his mom returned to clear the basket.
Dumbstruck, Cady froze for a moment. In fact, she became blushingly self-conscious, even though it was a reasonable thing for her cousin to wonder and his question could not have been more innocent. “Um...” she began carefully, “well, he's nice, actually.” An insipid reply, definitely. Fortunately, it also happened to be the truth. Over the past couple of days, Cady had reflected on just that—how grateful she was that her physical desire for Mick had worn down her willpower, because if she had resisted her attraction, she would have missed out on what a warm, romantic guy he was.
“Yeah?” Jordy said, interrupting her thoughts as he chewed heartily. “Well, that's good. My friend, Bennett, complains about his stepsister all the time. He says she's a pathological liar and their parents always take her side.”
Sympathetically, Cady furrowed her brow. “My God, that's terrible.”
“I know,” Jordy agreed, nodding. “Bennett should probably start lying, too—you know, at least to even out the playing field—but he refuses to compromise his ethical standards.”
Bemused, Cady repeated, “Ethical standards...he's your age?”
Jordan nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes, why?”
“Oh, no reason,” she replied, holding back a grin. She found it sort of adorable that her precocious twelve-year-old cousin had an equally precocious friend.
“It's lucky that you don't have any issues with him,” Jordan mentioned conversationally, referring back to Mick.
“Definitely not,” she agreed. “Mick's a good guy.” She tried not to smile, tried to sound objective as she mentioned, “He's sweet, actually...and fun...sort of sarcastic, but in a good way. He's...” Now she was teetering on a cliff of blather. She halted at the edge, cutting herself off. “But enough about me. What's new with you?”