subtext of every word—offering it to her, to share it with her when and if she was ever ready to give him that chance.
And the thing is? For all that she hadn’t been ready, ever, to marry Woodman, thoughts of marrying Cain flooded her mind with anticipation and excitement. She couldn’t wait to hold his hand and leap into forever.
On Sunday he offered to drive her to church, but she declined. She imagined the pain in Miz Sophie’s eyes to see her nephew slipping into the shoes of her son, and she knew that compassion and discretion was the right path for them, no matter how impatient Cain felt about declaring their status to the world.
They both felt the quiet melancholy of Sunday afternoon as the sun set and evening approached, knowing that their perfect weekend was almost over. After kissing good-bye for almost an hour by the driver’s side of her car, their hands reaching for each other, their bodies aching for more, Ginger finally wrenched herself away and cried the whole way back to Apple Valley, bereft at leaving Cain behind for even a day.
Which made her drive back down to Versailles on Tuesday morning all the sweeter. Unable to bear their separation any longer, she’d left McHuid’s at ten thirty, texting Cain that she was on her way. When she arrived, he was waiting in the garage bay, his jeans slung low, his long-sleeved T-shirt hugging his muscular chest, his eyes—dusky blue and clear—fixed on her through the windshield of her car as she parked, cut the engine, sprang from the car, and ran to his arms.
He lifted her easily, and she locked her ankles around his waist, their lips fusing into a desperate kiss as he carried her inside.
“I need you,” he growled, kicking the office door closed with his foot. “Christ, I missed you, princess.”
She pressed kisses to his smooth jaw, to his cheeks, to his eyelids and lips.
“Me too,” she gasped, her panties soaked, her body clenched with readiness.
“I can’t go slow,” said Cain, setting her down in front of the desk. He used his arm to swipe everything—including their laptops and the phone console—to the side, then turned her around, facing the desk. “Lean over.”
She pulled her maxi dress up to her waist, yanked her panties down to her knees, and bent over the desk with her forearms flat and her forehead down. Behind her, she heard his zipper open with a quick fffft and the sound of his jeans being pushed down. She gasped as his erection pressed against the wet, sensitive folds of her sex and cried out when he grabbed her hips and thrust into her completely with one smooth stroke.
“Ahhh,” he panted, buried deeply inside her, leaning over her back, his shirt pressed against the bunched-up jersey of her dress.
Ginger lay her cheek against the cool, slick wood of the desk and closed her eyes in gratitude and relief.
He pushed her hair aside and pressed his lips to her neck, still motionless within her, though he throbbed like a heartbeat. Her sensitive flesh felt every pulse as he swelled inside her, stretching her to fit him.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed breathlessly.
“Don’t be,” she murmured. “I needed this too.”
“What do you need, baby?” he asked, his tongue darting out to lick her neck as his hands slid between the desk and her dress to massage her breasts.
She whimpered, pressing her ass back against him. “More.”
Withdrawing slowly, Cain thrust forward again, and Ginger moaned loudly. “More.”
Winding her hair in his hand, Cain pulled, firmly but gently, as he withdrew from her, then slammed forward again.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “Again.”
His other arm looped around her waist, and he pulled her up off the desk a fraction of an inch. “Hold on, Gin.”
She flattened her palms on the desk, and he pumped into her again, but his arm skated lower until he could slip his hand into the slick, vibrating folds of her clit. His middle finger, coarse and hot, found the sensitive bud of flesh and circled it as he pulled on her hair and thrust greedily inside her again.
“I want you to scream my name,” he growled. “I want you to scream my name when you come, princess.”
She nodded, barely able to make words, her body so tight, aching so terribly with her need for release. She only managed a weak, “Okay.”
“You ready for me?”
“Please,” she begged him.
The pad of his finger pressed directly on her clit, rubbing as he thrust