so happy with you. I don’t want to ruin it for them.”
He brushes a lock of hair from my cheek. “What about for you?”
“I don’t know.” I stare at his broad chest. “You’re not a good risk.”
He tenses. “I’m not.”
I blow out a deep breath. “I want it not to matter.”
There’s a moment of silence, where I let the beat of the music fill up the space. “Does it?”
“I don’t know.” I meet his eyes. “Does it?”
“Not when I look at you.”
The answer should satisfy me, but it doesn’t. “It doesn’t feel like that.”
“What does it feel like?”
“You hold back.”
“Tell me more.”
I swallow hard—wanting to tell him, wanting it to reassure me, afraid that it won’t. My lashes flutter. “I want you to kiss me like you can’t stop.”
Something flashes in his navy eyes, even in the dimness of the room.
Emboldened by my confession, I continue, “Like how I can’t.”
He leans in close, not touching me, but so our faces are near. “I saw you on your deck.”
A hot flush crawls over my skin. Of course I knew, but unspoken, I could still pretend I didn’t.
I nod. “I know.”
“Every time I kiss you, that’s how I want to make you feel.”
“Okay.” I lick my lips, tongue darting fast.
“Did you want me to be watching?” His voice is low, thick.
“Yes.”
His hand crawls up my back. “If I had restraint, I wouldn’t kiss you at all. But you’re right, I don’t let myself be carried away.”
“Why?” I need to know.
His mouth brushes over mine. “Because once I do, I won’t stop. I’ll push you, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
I’m not sure I understand what that means, and I’m equally not sure I want to. It doesn’t explain everything, but I see that in his mind it does, and I think that’s enough for now. I lay my head against his chest, closing my eyes and letting the music sweep me under its spell.
His palm smooths down my spine. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yes.”
His arms leave my body, and he turns away. Just as I’m about to feel cold, his hand envelops mine, warming me all over. We walk to the street, which is still crowded and alive.
A half block later, where it’s less populated, he faces me. “Where should we go next, Cat?”
My head tilts. “What are my choices?”
He smiles, stepping close to me, putting his palm on my hip. “Should we head back? Or do you want to spend the night?”
I don’t want it up to me. I want him to sweep me away and blot out all thought until I’m that crazy mess again.
I shrug. “What about the morning? And people?”
If we spend the night, we’ll show up late to work, and everyone will know we spent the night together. There won’t be any hiding it.
He studies me as though he’s trying to read the nuance of my expression. Finally he speaks. “Head back it is.”
He starts to walk again, and I’m disappointed.
But I’ve already revealed enough tonight, and I’m not sure the small admission from him makes it worth it. It’s not enough to take the risk again.
14
Caden
Maybe I’m doing the right thing, or maybe I’m not.
Cat’s been silent for most of the ride back, and I haven’t bridged the gap she put between us.
She’s disappointed we’re heading back. I’ve learned enough about her to recognize that she pulls away, back into that shell of hers, when she’s upset.
I can’t pretend I don’t know what she wants from me.
She wants me to consume her. She wants me to throw her up against the first available flat surface and ravage her, to not stop until I’m satisfied. She wants to be taken.
But she doesn’t understand what I want, what I’m waiting for.
I won’t accept anything but her surrender—eyes wide open, clear headed, fully cognizant of her decision. I need her to choose me, not be talked into it by the body she can’t control. She wants to make it about my passion for her, thinking if I get carried away, it will give her the proof she’s convinced she needs to fall. Only she doesn’t see how it abdicates her responsibility. I can’t sweep her away—not because I don’t want to, but because it gives her an out, and I’m enough of a bastard to not want to give it to her.
But I can’t tell her any of this, because she’ll say the words to get what she wants, instead of meaning it. It’s something she