His.
That thought spurred him on and he quickly discarded his pants and donned the condom he had been smart enough to put on his nightstand before she’d arrived.
“I need you to touch me,” Cassandra said, her voice breathy, going deeper as he lay over her and nudged at her opening with his latex-covered cock.
“I will,” he said, his own voice coming out a strangled cry.
She smiled, and the sight of his beautiful Cassandra naked and under him made it impossible for him to wait a second longer. When he pushed at her opening, she gave, taking an inch then another of his length inside her.
Her eyes went heavy-lidded, a feeling Lucian could understand because the first sensation of her tight walls closing around him stole his breath. It was intense, amazing, unlike anything he had ever felt, and that didn’t change as he pushed into her deeper, harder, until he was fully seated.
Cassandra held on to his shoulders, looked up into his eyes, and though both of their bodies were slicked with sweat, their breathing heavy in the twilight of his bedroom, Lucian couldn’t think of a more peaceful moment.
His cock inside her, he cupped her head with his hands, looked into her eyes.
There were things he could say, things he probably should have said, but looking into her eyes, seeing the emotion in them, made it impossible for him to do anything but push inside her, kiss her, again and again until they were both shuttering messes.
“Can’t hold on,” he said in a tight voice.
Cassandra pulled him closer, her hands warm against his neck.
“Don’t,” she whispered, her own voice tight, her pussy clenching around him.
“Come with me,” he said as he reached between their bodies and strummed her clit.
It didn’t take much, and with that stimulation she went off and clamped down on him tight, the sensation enough to send him over the edge as well.
And then, connected with Cassandra in a way he’d never thought he would be, he rode out his own climax.
Chapter Eleven
Two days later, Cassandra sat on Lucian’s low couch, watching him as he stood in front of his balcony windows shirtless and sipping coffee. It was that view that had convinced Cassandra to stay an extra day, and it was doing a good job of convincing her now.
Still, caffeine called, as did the need to decompress away from Lucian’s overwhelming presence. She cleared her throat to get his attention.
“Lucian, I need to go,” she said.
He took another sip of his coffee and shifted to give her a view of his perfectly formed pecs, the sight enough to distract her, at least for a moment.
“You don’t like it here?” he asked.
She looked out of the forty-story window, then gazed at his bare chest and smiled as she met his eyes. “The view’s not so bad, but I’d love some tea.”
He frowned. “I have tea.”
“Yeah,” she said, frowning herself as she thought of the four desiccated tea bags of unknown age and origin he’d offered her.
“My tea’s not good enough for you?” he said as he put his mug down on the floor and came over to her, wrapped his arms around her waist.
His touch was easy, comfortable, as was the way she melted into his arms.
“Your tea is sufficient,” she said, smiling at him.
“Just sufficient?” he asked as he leaned forward to kiss her, planting soft caresses against her neck.
“Yes, just sufficient, and there’s a great place near my house that has exactly what I desire,” she said.
He broke the kiss off and stood upright, stern, and so damn sexy her sex began to dampen, an effect that increased when he lifted the corner of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure I have exactly what you desire,” he said.
Her already shaky resolve weakened even further. More time with Lucian was appealing, almost irresistible, but Cassandra stayed strong. She needed some distance, some space, because she was getting far too used to having Lucian’s undivided attention. Getting far too used to spending time with him, making love to him at every spare moment. And it’d be too easy for her to come to crave this, to become addicted. She couldn’t let that happen.
Besides, she really wanted tea.
He stared at her intently, and Cassandra stared back, determined to keep her eyes off his bare torso, which was no easy feat. “You gonna give me a proper good-bye?” he asked as he reached for her and filled his palm with her hip.
“I think I can come up with something,” she said, curling her fingers against his muscled chest.
Two hours later, she finally made it down to her car.
* * *
“Yes!” Cassandra exclaimed as she turned in to the parking space just outside of her favorite café.
She’d stopped at home for a quick shower and grabbed her ereader, hoping there was a spot on the café’s rooftop where she could enjoy her tea and read. Cassandra got out of the car and walked toward the busy café, pointedly ignoring how much she missed Lucian’s strong body and solid, comforting presence.
But she welcomed the space, time to process the changes that were happening. As she stood in the long line waiting, Cassandra felt happy, satisfied, and hopeful about the future, and the potential of a future with Lucian. She wouldn’t examine that thought too deeply, wasn’t yet in a position to explore what these new feelings meant, or contemplate what might happen. She’d just enjoy the bubble of happiness her time with Lucian had wrapped her in.
For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if Lucian were here, if they were together, having a nice normal coffee date. Maybe one day, she thought whimsically. The person in front of her finished his transaction, which was a useful interruption to Cassandra’s wishful thinking.
“Honey green tea latte,” Cassandra said to the barista.
“Four fifty-nine,” she replied.
After she finished her transaction, Cassandra moved to wait for her drink and a few minutes later, the barista called, “Honey green tea latte.”
Cassandra grabbed her drink and couldn’t help her sigh of pleasure at the first taste of the sweet, warm liquid. She smiled and then turned, headed for the stairs to the covered rooftop seating, but before she could take a second step, someone bumped into her.
“I’m sor—”
She looked up and met a pair of muddy blue eyes that seemed familiar, but Cassandra couldn’t examine that familiarity because a second later, a solid object was jabbed against her stomach.
Cassandra harshed out a breath but let the instinct to step back pass. Because in a blink, Cassandra saw the excitement and insanity in those blue eyes and realized there was a gun pointed directly at her.
Chapter Twelve
Her stomach clenched, the sip of the drink she had taken threatening to come back up. That sickening feeling was intensified by the thoughts that swirled through her brain so fast, she could hardly process them. Shock had her frozen in place but her mind swirled. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was in her favorite café, holding her favorite drink, that a gun was pointed at her.
“Cassandra.”
The sound of her name broke Cassandra out of her stupor and she looked up at those blue eyes again, realized they belonged to a woman, one who knew her name and one who was threatening her life.
The woman’s long brown hair spilled over her forehead and into her eyes, down over a rounded face that again struck Cassandra as familiar.
“H-hi,” the woman said, her low whisper trembling, almost reverently, and vibrating with the madness Cassandra had seen in her eyes.
Cassandra’s lungs squeezed so tight she couldn’t gather breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. But the woman looked at her expectantly, waiting, wanting something from Cassandra. The object pressing against her stomach gave Cassandra the urgency that she had momentarily lost and allowed her to speak.
“H-hello,” Cassandra said, keeping her voice light, friendly, which was extrem
ely difficult given the object pressed against her. The object she knew with sickening certainty was a gun. It had come to her in a blink, the realization of what the woman held, but despite the fear that threatened to crush her, Cassandra was glad she knew. Because whether she’d wanted it or not, whether she’d anticipated it or not, this wasn’t just a trip to a tea shop. This was a life-or-death situation, and Cassandra would have to rely on herself if she wanted to make it to see another day.
That awareness kept her going. She put the cup to her lips as if she were taking another sip of tea, though she wouldn’t dare risk it, and then smiled at the woman.
Her returned expression at Cassandra’s was the warmest, friendliest, most terrifying thing she had ever seen, far more frightening than the gun.
“You’re here. I didn’t think—I didn’t know—” the woman stammered, seeming almost overcome, and Cassandra stepped in to keep things calm, hoping that if the woman was talking, that might help. She also took the opportunity to move her body ever so slightly. A shot would still wound her grievously, but that subtle movement was at least a step in the right direction, and that direction was away from this woman.
“You like this place?” Cassandra asked.
She shook her head almost frantically, the motion bringing the gun back closer to Cassandra, making her hand press the gun harder into Cassandra’s side. “No. But I know this is your favorite place. Honey green tea latte, right?” the woman said.
Cassandra nodded and the woman beamed. “I knew it!” she said. The gun against her stomach had sent a chill down her spine, but hearing this woman talk about Cassandra’s favorite drink was as terrifying, more, even.
This woman knew her.
“So…so if you don’t like this place, why…?”
As she spoke, Cassandra moved her body in an attempt to put space between herself and the woman. However, it was only a brief respite, because the woman moved closer, again pressing the gun against Cassandra. Cassandra didn’t try to move away again, but if she had, she didn’t doubt the woman would do the same thing. She hadn’t blinked, hadn’t even really seemed to notice that she’d moved, but the desire to be near Cassandra seemed to fuel her.
“Why am I here?” the woman asked.
Cassandra nodded.
“You haven’t been back to your house in two days. I guess I just hoped…” She brightened. “And I was right. Here you are!” she said as she reached up with her free hand and grabbed Cassandra’s forearm.
Her palm was warm, clammy, and Cassandra thought she felt the woman’s hand tremble, probably from excitement and not the fear that again coursed through Cassandra.
“A coincidence…” Cassandra said, more to herself than anyone else.
Cassandra lifted her eyes to the woman. Not likely. There was nothing coincidental about this. If the woman hadn’t met her here, she would have met her somewhere else. Cassandra knew that with certainty.
“No, not a coincidence. A sign,” the woman said, nodding so hard her hair smacked against her neck. “Seeing you here was the sign I’ve been waiting for. It’s time, Cassandra. After all these years, it’s time.”
Cassandra didn’t give herself a moment to think about what it was time for or any other of the ominous portents in the woman’s statement. The specifics didn’t matter; Cassandra needed to do whatever it took to get away from her.
All of a sudden, Cassandra felt hyperaware of the woman’s hand tight against her arm, her fingers now digging into Cassandra’s flesh. That would certainly leave a bruise, though Cassandra would consider herself extremely lucky if a bruise was all that remained of this experience. She also became even more aware of the insistent press of the hard metal against her stomach.
The café, which had been loud, boisterous with the visitors, had now quieted, and Cassandra noticed the curious but thankfully not yet worried looks people were flashing her. They could tell something was odd but didn’t seem to be reacting yet, something Cassandra knew would change if anyone caught sight of the gun the woman held.
She took a deep breath, and then, moving slowly, carefully shifted ever so slightly to look into the woman’s eyes, looked past the madness, and offered a tentative smile.
“It’s been a long time,” Cassandra said calmly, not sure of what else to say but knowing she needed to keep this situation calm and figuring a nice conversation was the way to do so. Plus, it might give Cassandra a chance to try to figure out who she was.
Cassandra studied the woman’s features intensely and felt not even a faint spark of recollection. If pushed, she would have said she’d never seen this woman before, but Cassandra couldn’t let her know that. Whether Cassandra remembered her or not, it was obvious the woman thought she did, and now wasn’t the time to challenge that understanding.
“It’s been so long—too long,” the woman said, the words leaving her in a rush of breath that seemed to shake her entire body on the exhale.
“Why don’t we go catch up?” Cassandra asked, still speaking in the calmest voice she could muster.
The emotions that passed over the woman’s face moved so quickly, Cassandra could barely keep up. In an instant, she went from hopeful to suspicious to angry.
“You slept somewhere else. That man’s house.” The woman’s face twisted with anger that seemed to make it hard for the words to come out. “Aren’t you still busy?” she asked, her voice wavering between rage and bitterness.
Doing her best to keep calm, Cassandra smiled and then shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s just my boss. But we should talk,” she said.
The woman looked skeptical, confused. “But he’s been at your house. I know you were at his. I thought…I thought you were together,” she said, her voice now a whisper.
“It’s nothing like that. We had a big project,” Cassandra said. Then, a moment later she added, “You know how crazy things can get with my job.”
The woman nodded. “They make you work entirely too hard. You don’t have time for anything else,” she said emphatically.
Cassandra’s blood turned to ice in her veins, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long this had been going on, how long she had been blind to this seemingly ever-present woman.
Instead of focusing on that, she chuckled, the sound nearly choking her. “You’re right about that,” she said, letting what she hoped was a friendly smile stretch her cheeks. “But I have time now. We should catch up. It’s a nice enough day. Want to catch up?”
The woman gave Cassandra a tentative smile. “I’d like that. Let’s sit,” she said, gesturing toward one of the empty tables.
Things were still calm, but Cassandra’s first priority was to get them away from as many people as possible. She shook her head, frowned slightly. “It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think?”
The woman shrugged. “I feel fine,” she said.
“Yeah, but it is a little hot, and it’s a nice enough day so the roof will be pretty. And we should talk without anyone being able to listen in on us,” Cassandra said, leaning in toward the woman conspiratorially.
Cassandra watched the struggle on the woman’s face and saw the precise moment when she’d made her decision and felt a slight moment of relief.
The woman’s face lifted in a smile, one that would have been pretty were it not for the pure insanity that radiated from it. Strangely, as afraid and confused as she was, that woman’s smile made Cassandra sad in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.
“Okay,” the woman said.
Cassandra tried to keep her expression neutral, which was hard given that she was sick with relief that the gun was no longer pressed against her and nervous about what would happen next, and began walking up the stairs to the rooftop, hoping that nothing in her posture gave away the fear that ricocheted through her. When she reached the deck, Cassandra looked around quickly, mercifully relieved it was empty. Cassandra walked to the farthest table, one shoved in a corner, and sat at the table, her back to the woman, who stood be
hind her.
Cassandra sat, waited, listening as the woman approached and then smiled when she wedged her body between the table and the high wall of the deck.
The atmosphere was thick, tense, but Cassandra tried to be as natural as possible and again lifted the cup to her lips. The woman gave her an indulgent smile and shook her head. “You love those things.”
From somewhere, Cassandra managed to muster a hearty laugh. “You know me too well,” she said.
“Of course I do. You’re my best friend. I know everything about you,” the woman said, smiling and nodding emphatically.
Best friends? Cassandra kept her eyes on the woman, trying not to leer as she again searched her memory for her. Still, she needed to keep the conversation moving.
“So…how have things been?” Cassandra asked, knowing she was being vague and her voice shaky, but she wasn’t sure what else to say.
The woman shrugged. “You know. Just regular. You know, I had to…take some time off. But I’m better now. I want you to know I’ve never forgotten you, Cassandra.”
The woman looked at her intensely, and Cassandra couldn’t do anything but nod.
“I didn’t forget you either, Tammy,” she said.
Tammy. A lab partner from college. The name and memory had just popped into Cassandra’s head, and from her reaction, she knew she was right.
The woman chuckled, her laugh soft, her smile genuine. “To be honest, I wondered. You never reached out to me. Sometimes I thought—”
Cassandra shook her head as fiercely as the woman had earlier. “I would never, ever, forget you, but I couldn’t find you. Besides, I didn’t know if you…” Cassandra trailed off and then looked away.
The woman sat up a little straighter, her brow furrowing. She blinked, her eyes wet with the sheen of tears.
“You thought…you thought I was mad at you?” she asked.
Cassandra nodded, and the woman blinked as if she could force the words away.
“I could never be angry with you, Cassandra. You’re the best friend I ever had. The only friend I ever had. Nothing could ever come between us. No one,” she said, putting emphasis on the last words.
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