He sits on the bed and scoots back until he’s leaning against the headboard.
I join him, but stay in the middle of the bed facing him.
“In the past, other women have had issues.” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “Some have wanted me to do things to them with the stump.”
I burst out laughing because that is hysterical, but then I choke on my laugh when I see the frown marring his forehead. “Oh God, you’re serious.” And I laughed because of course I will take an awkward moment and make it unbearable for everyone involved. “I’m so sorry, I just…I didn’t.” I drop my head in my hands. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Come’er.” He pats his lap.
So I crawl over to him and settle myself across him, one knee on either side of his hips. I stay up on my knees though instead of putting my weight on him. “What those other women did,” I shake my head, still trying to wrap my head around such nonsense. “That’s disrespectful. Your leg isn’t a novelty. It’s just part of you.”
He puts his hands on my hips. “I might decide I just want to keep you.”
My brows raise and I aim for saucy with my response. “Is that right?” Inside though the mental pleading begins, please keep me, please keep me.
I know he doesn’t mean it. How could he? Look at him. He’s like a god stepped down from Mount Olympus. It’s just a thing he said in the moment. Honeyed words as sweet as the pet name he calls me. It’s not real. I know that. I know that as much as I know Cade is going to make me fall for him, then he’s going to walk away as if nothing ever happened in this hotel room. As if my life hasn’t irrevocably changed.
After all, if my own fiancé couldn’t be bothered to keep me forever, how could this guy want that?
He tugs on me so that I’m fully seated on top of him. His still semi-hard cock nestles right against my naked core. He looks down and growls.
“You didn’t give me any bottoms to put on.”
“That might have been intentional.”
I put my palms on his chest, loving the feel of his short hairs brushing against my skin. Loving everything about this moment. About him…but it’s too soon for such feelings, isn’t it?
“So what do you do back in Corpus when you’re not rescuing women from flash floods?” I ask.
“I own a security company and employ mostly former military. We do anything from working special events to protecting VIP’s if they visit the area.” He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I wasn’t equipped to do much more when I left the SEALs.”
“Sounds like you’re putting your skills to good use.”
“We do alright. All my guys are good guys.” One hand slips under my shirt and just rests on the bare skin of my waist.
I snuggle close. From military to private security to rescuing disillusioned brides. Yeah, that sounds about right. Being a hero is in his blood.
Before I can say that out loud, he asks, “What about you? What does Summer do?”
I bite down on my lip. Do I tell him? Do I admit aloud what I do?
I’ve kept it a secret for so long. Mostly because I know my mother would have a fit if she knew that was what I had done with my trust fund, right now she thinks I have it invested in some bonds and whatnot.
“I don’t have a traditional job.”
Aaron didn’t want me to work. He wanted me to stay home and raise our kids. Though I don’t know how he planned on conceiving said kids, since he rarely touched me. Maybe a boob grope here or there and then he would apologize and go home. Or probably to Tracy’s house to get off. I thought he was being a gentleman, but the truth was he never wanted me.
Not that I was ever attracted to him. Ugh, why am I thinking about him right now when I’m straddling the hottest guy I’ve ever seen?
Why? Oh, right. Because for the past year and a half, I’ve been in a relationship with a guy who didn’t want me and that’s on him. But he also didn’t even really know me. And that’s on me.
I blow out a breath, surprised at both my nervousness and the fact that I sincerely want to tell him. I want him to know me. The real me. “Wow, no one actually knows about this in my everyday life.” Impulsively I blurt, “I own a website.”
One of his brows cocks. “What kind of website?” His hand slides up my torso and cups my breast.
“It’s not porn.” I smack him playfully. “It’s actually like an auction site for classic car restoration.”
His hand stills. His eyes narrow a little.
Probably in confusion. Because the handful of people I told about my idea before I made it a reality didn’t really understand it. So I keep talking, babbling out more of an explanation. “It’s kind of clearing house for hard to find car parts. Because, let’s say, you’re restoring a ’53 Hudson Hornet, then—”
“Holy shit! Summer Time Car Restoration? That’s you? You’re that Summer?”
I gape. “I … what?”
I have literally never met anyone “in real life” who knew Summer Time. Never.
“I …. You know my site?”
Sudden and fierce pride bursts through me. Because he knows my site. My little, fun site that I love so much. That I pour my heart and soul into, and then hide everything about it from the people in my life. Yet this guy knows my site.
“You’re Summer?” He grins up at me.
I tilt my head. “Guilty.”
“Why the fuck doesn’t everyone know? Why is your site your dirty little secret?”
I bite down on my lip and exhale slowly. “People in my life wouldn’t understand or approve.”
Chapter 5
Cade
* * *
I might just have to marry this girl. She’s fucking perfect. Hot and sweet. She doesn’t care about my leg, which feels like a damn miracle. And now I find out she owns and runs the website where I spend an extraordinary amount of time. Not to mention money.
“I’m currently restoring a ’68 Dodge Charger,” I say.
Her eyes brighten. “What color?”
“Bright blue.”
“Oh I bet that’s gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous. I’ve been shopping your site for years.” I pull her even tighter to me. The warmth from her bare pussy presses against my cock. I want to fuck her again, but I don’t want her to think that’s all I want from her. This woman is special. “How did you get into classic cars?”
“My grandfather. He owned a string of car dealerships up in Oklahoma. I used to spend summers with him. Overalls, pigtails and covered in dirt and motor oil. It horrified my mother. Her daddy was once the governor of this great state,” she changes her voice on that last phrase, sounding lofty and important—I’m assuming to imitate her mother. “She has expectations of me, and would have preferred me not be so interested in cars. But he was my daddy’s daddy and so she sent me every summer. He taught me so much. And I adored him.”
She smiles widely at me.
“He sounds great.”
“Did you know that I can rebuild a carburetor from scratch?”