Cade
One minute I’m standing—frozen, shivering so much I can’t feel my hands and feet—the next second I’m on the ground. The rain pelts my face—I lost my hat when I fell—and I try to throw my arm up to shield my eyes, but it feels like I’m moving through thick, syrupy, liquid. I hear the sound of someone groaning, then realize it’s me.
Fucking hell, so this is what it really feels like to grovel? To lose all sensation in your body but feel everything in your heart; to be tuned into your thoughts with such clarity that the truth is clearer than it’s ever been before. When I thought I was going to die, all I wanted was to see her face. And now… When my strength has ebbed out of me, when I’m flat on my back in the mud and battered by the elements, all I want is to see her one last time.
"Cade. Oh, my god, Cade!" I hear her voice as if from far away.
I suppose I lose consciousness for a few seconds. When I open my eyes, I see her beautiful face in front of my eyes. Or maybe, I’m dead and this is heaven and she’s the angel who’s guided me all my life. The raindrops bathe her face, and I reach up to touch her cheek. "Abby," my voice cracks. "My sweet Sparrow.
"Jesus, Cade, what were you thinking? Standing out here in the rain?"
"There’s nowhere else I want to be," I murmur.
She pulls my head into her lap. "What have you done to yourself?"
"Nothing I don’t deserve."
"You shouldn’t be here."
I kick up my lips. "This is the only place I want to be."
"Why are you doing this?"
"You know why."
She shakes her head. "I need to get you inside."
And I need you. Only you.
"Can you stand, if I help you?" Without waiting for my reply, she slides her arm under my neck and helps me sit up. I sway, and she gasps. She wraps her arm about me, trying to keep me upright.
"Give me a minute." I shake my head, and a hundred little drums seem to pound behind my eyes. "Fuck," I groan.
"Are you okay?"
I will be, as long as you’re near me.
I push myself up, and with Abby’s help, rise to my feet. Pins and needles prick my limbs as my blood flows to my extremities. She puts her arm about my waist. I try not to lean on her too much as we cross the street and climb the stairs to her flat. She guides me inside, then pushes the door shut with her hip. "This way." She nods toward the doorway on the far side of the living room. We walk through to her ensuite bath. I manage to sit down at the edge of her tub. She grabs a towel and stands between my legs as she dries my hair.
“You need a hot bath,” her voice is husky.
“I hate baths.” Unless you join me. Only, I’m not going to ask you. I can’t ask you. This time, I’m not going to fuck things up.
She swallows. “A shower, then.”
What I need is you. My fingertips tingle. I want to raise my hands and settle them on her hips, but I will not. I cannot do so. Not until she’s forgiven me. I draw in a breath, and her cherry scent goes straight to my head. My heart rate triples, and my groin hardens. Fucking hell, I’ll never not be turned on when I’m in her presence. She throws the towel aside, then begins to unzip my jacket.
I grip her wrist and goosebumps pepper her skin.
"What are you doing?" My voice cracks, and I clear my throat.
"Getting you out of your clothes."
"It’s best I do that myself."
She tugs on her hand, and I release it. The hurt pulses off of her. I glance up to find a wounded look in her eyes. I blow out a breath. "Sparrow, what I mean is, I’m trying to be good, but the touch of your fingers on my skin might blow the self-control I’m trying to hold onto at the moment.”
"Oh." She swallows. "Okay." She takes a step back. "Give me your clothes and I’ll run them in the wash for you."
I lower the zipper on my jacket, then wince when I shrug it off my shoulders. I drop it to the counter and try to reach behind myself to take off my T-shirt. Pain slices through my side, and I growl, "Fuck."
"Let me help you." She closes the distance between us, grips the hem and draws it up. "Raise your arms."
I do.
For once, it’s her calling the shots and me complying, and goddamn, there’s something so sweet and intimate and tender to give in to the demands of the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with. At least, when we’re not in bed.
She peels the T-shirt up and off, then makes a sound of distress. I glance up to find she’s staring at the scar on my side.
"It’s healed. It looks worse than it is. I’m not in—" I wince as she touches the puckered skin. She trails her finger up the newly healed skin, and goosebumps pop up all over my body. Heat flushes my chest. My balls tighten. I rise to my feet so suddenly that her hand falls to the side.
I lower the zipper on my jeans, then manage to shove them off, along with my briefs, socks and shoes. I drop my gear to the side and straighten. A shiver grips me. I don’t need to look down to know my cock’s standing to attention against my stomach.
Her breath hitches, and her chest rises and falls. I look down to find she’s staring at my crotch. She licks her lips, and my shaft seems to extend even further.
"Do you want to touch me?" I ask.
She nods slowly.
I raise my arms and lock my fingers behind my neck. "Go ahead."
She peers up at me from under her eyelashes. "You won’t touch me?"
"I promise."
Some of the tension slips from her shoulders, then she leans in and kisses the scar. I groan as my heart slams into my ribcage. My pulse goes into overdrive as she places tiny kisses down the path of my distressed skin. Then, she straightens and places both of her palms on my chest. "You’re so gorgeous. I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen."
"Not as stunning as you, baby."
She laughs softly. "You’re biased."
"I have reason to be."
She presses a kiss to the center of my chest, and a shudder runs over my skin. My thigh muscles ripple, and my biceps tighten. I lock my fingers more firmly together and watch as she rubs her cheek against me. She tips up her chin until her gaze meets mine. "Are you still cold?"
"A little."
"I know a way to warm you up faster than a shower."
"Oh?"
Her eyes gleam. "You’ll keep your hands to yourself?"
"I already promised, didn’t I?"
She searches my features, nods, then sinks to her knees.
53
Abby
I haven’t forgiven him. I haven’t. Doesn’t mean I can’t take my pleasure from him. Doesn’t mean I can’t make him come the way he’s brought me to orgasm so many times, right? I lower my head and take him in my mouth. A low growl rumbles from him. I grip his powerful thighs, tilt my chin, and suck him down. His entire body turns to stone. Under my hands, his muscles ripple; the strength in his body is so potent, so masculine, a fire crackles to life between my thighs. I pull back until the crown of his cock is poised at the rim of my mouth. Then I fist his cock and run my tongue across the sensitive skin over the head.