"Punish me then. Take me. Use me. Split me in half with your beautiful cock, but don’t hold your grudge against me, Cade. Please." I swallow. "Please, please, please, Cade."
The smile disappears from his face, replaced by a mean calculating look. "You sure about that?"
I scowl. "Told you already, didn’t I? Fuck me, you mean, sadistic, prick, you—" I gasp as he pistons his hips forward and breaches me. His fat shaft is in me and spreading me, and it’s like trying to force a watermelon through a keyhole.
“It hurts, it hurts.” I try to writhe away, but he lowers his weight, pinning me in place.
"Open up and let me in, Sparrow."
"Open up and let me in, Abby."
My eyelids snap open. My chest rises and falls. I glance about the room, take in the familiar shape of the dresser pushed up against one wall, the closet in the far corner, the chair on the other side and…my fingers inside my pussy. I pull them out, bring them to my mouth and suck on them. My stomach clenches. Jesus, I was dreaming of Cade fucking me. And I was trying to make myself come. How pathetic is that? How pathetic and how arousing. And I could have sworn I heard his voice, and—
"Open up, I know you’re in there." Cade’s voice reaches me, followed by banging on the front door. Shit. So, it was his voice I heard. I shove the covers off and swing my legs over the bed. I glance around for something to pull over my sleep-shorts and camisole when he yells again, "Open the fuck up, Abby!" His voice is angry, and when he pounds on the door this time, I hear the wood creak. Oh hell, he’s going to break it down.
"I’m coming." I rush out of the bedroom toward the front door and fling it open. "What the hell is wrong with—" I blink at the man who’s leaning against the door frame. His hair is tousled, and there’s a day’s growth of whiskers on his jaw. Also, he’s wearing the same clothes he dropped me off in this morning. He looks rumpled and sexy. So sexy. Spruced up in a suit, Cade is hot. But a Cade wearing a creased sweatshirt and an untidy look is so erotic, it’s unbearable. He takes a step forward, and the whiff of alcohol stings my nostrils.
"You’re drunk?" I blink.
So that’s why he didn’t use the key to my apartment. He moves in closer, then promptly loses his balance and keels over.
"Cade!" I grab at his waist. At the same time, his heavy hands descend on my hips. He leans his weight on me, and both of us stagger. The smell of alcohol weaves around me, and my eyes sting. "You’re stinking drunk." I frown up at him.
"It’s your fault," he growls. Even high on alcohol, his voice is hard and mean, and my pussy dampens. Oh, god, is there nothing about this man that I find unappealing? I wrap my arm about him and manage to maneuver us inside the flat. He winds his big arm about my shoulder, and I almost collapse again. "You’re heavy," I pant.
"You’re tiny," he growls.
I scoff, “You’re deluded, if you think that.”
“And you’re so fucking perfect, I want to throw you down and fuck you so hard I spoil you for anyone else.”
The intent in his filthy words ricochets down my body and my nipples tighten. We take a step forward, weave to the left, then to the right, before beginning to topple over.
"Cade, we’re going to fall," I cry out.
"No, we’re not." He straightens, seems to find his balance, and I blow out a breath.
"I’ll never let you fall, Abby."
I still, glance up to find him staring down at me with a strange look in his eyes. The kind of look I saw a long, long time ago. Before I helped his teammates bring him down. Before I ruined everything. Before I gave up any hope that he’d forgive me.
His expression softens, and his gaze lowers to my mouth. "Your sweet fucking mouth; it’s going to be my downfall." His voice skitters down my spine, and a shiver engulfs me.
"You’re drunk.”
"Which is why I can tell you how I really feel." He cups my cheek. "You’re killing me, Sparrow. Being near you, knowing I want you, but not allowing myself to have you… It’s fucking breaking my balls."
A warm sensation liquifies my chest, "So...you want me, physically?"
He blinks. "You know I do."
“And...?” I peer into his features. Say it. Say it. Say it, damn it.
"And—” His features seem to soften even more, then he shakes his head. “That’s it.”
“That’s it?” I cry.
He seems taken aback. "What else is there?" He scowls. "What are you trying to—" The wrinkles on his forehead clear. "Ah, I see. You think I have feelings for you."
I try to pull away, but he doesn’t release me.
"Is that what this is about?” His eyes gleam. “You feel something for me?"
I search his features. There’s a funny note in his voice, something I can’t quite place.
"Is that what this is about, Abby? You have feelings for me, and you think I should reciprocate them?"
I look away, but he grips my chin and turns it, so I don’t have a choice but to meet his gaze. "Is that it, Abby?"
I swallow, wanting to tell him no. That it’s not about that. That I haven’t harbored feelings for him since high school. That, of course, this isn’t about me hoping for a romantic relationship with him, after all this time. But when I open my mouth, what comes out is—"Yes."
"I didn’t hear you."
"Yes." I tip up my chin. "Yes, I have feelings for you. I—” I swallow. Don’t say it. Don’t. “I’m in love with you.”
He blinks, then throws his head back and laughs. He laughs so hard, his entire body shakes. He releases his hold on me and staggers back. "You think I’m going to reciprocate your emo-shit? That I’m going to fall in love with you?" he manages to choke out between his guffaws.
Heat suffuses my face. My heart feels like it’s going to burst through my ribcage. "Why is that funny?" I burst out.
He stops laughing, then glares at me. "Because there can never be anything between us."
I lock my fingers together. "There’s already something between us."
"Sure, I’m physically attracted to you, but that means nothing. You’re a hole— a very convenient hole—I occasionally like to toy with. You’re nothing more to me."
I tip up my chin. "So why are you here? Why is it that when you get so drunk you can barely see straight, you come here, huh? Why not go to any one of your various women that you like to be photographed with?"
He pauses for long enough that I think he might actually admit he cares for me. Then, he looks me up and down and says, "I have to keep up appearances. Your family connections are the ticket to consolidating my position in society and getting even more sponsorship roles, and I need people to believe we’re a couple. You have to admit, the two of us together make a great picture."
My throat closes. A tickling sensation teases my nostrils. I shake my head in disbelief. “You don’t mean it.” I sniff. “You’re only saying this because of the alcohol coursing through your veins.”