Relinquish

Chapter Twelve

Cade

“Thanks for letting me stop to change before we head back to work. You were right. Sam did do a number on this jacket.” She unlocks the door, disengages the alarm system, and motions for me to follow her.

I survey the small living room’s interior as she drops her purse onto the table by the front entrance. I can’t wrap my mind around the daughter of a New York Congressman living in one of the highest crime-rated neighborhoods in Kansas City.

Somehow, she’s made the place appear homey. The sofa is a woven green and brown plaid, and the recliner is either worn black leather or vinyl. In the dining room, she has a deep mahogany table with ornate stenciled molding. No two pieces match, but it works. I inhale. Lemon and bleach. One thing I appreciate is cleanliness.

“It’s not a problem. How did you end up living in this neighborhood?”

She slips her jacket off. “Take a seat.”

After I settle onto the sofa, she joins me, leaving a decent bit of space between us. My gaze drops from her silky hair to her smooth, pale shoulders. I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from reaching over and caressing her flesh.

I shouldn’t want her, but I do. I shift my gaze to her face. Shit. That isn’t any safer. Her plump lips beg for my mouth to devour them.

“My father and I had a disagreement, and it was time to get away and be on my own for a while. He ended up freezing my accounts when I left in hopes I would return as the obedient child I’ve always been.”

“That’s harsh.” Her father kicked her out with nothing. Shit. No wonder she’s living here. She can’t afford anything else.

Her bedroom door is ajar, with the wardrobe open. It’s stuffed full of designer clothing, handbags, and shoes. Well, maybe not nothing. Is there any lingerie stored in that thing? My dick jerks. To be this close to her and not touching everything at once, is torture.

We have nothing in common. Unfortunately, each second of us sitting together on the sofa–alone–is ratcheting up the tension until I can almost feel the electricity between us sparking. What about Trenton? Are they still together? I swallow. “What was the fight about? Did it have something to do with Trenton?”

Her brows furrow. “You keep bringing up Trenton, but you said you don’t know him. How do you know his name?”

Heat starts at my chest and builds until there’s no denying my embarrassment. “I may have read about your break-up in the tabloids.”

“A big macho man like you enjoys reading the tabloids?” The corners of her mouth twitch until she breaks out in a fit of giggles.

Perfect. “I may have scanned the magazines while waiting in line at the grocery store. What else are you supposed to do when you’re waiting?” I tilt my head. “Did you dump him because he didn’t have enough money?”

The laughter evaporates, and her eyes narrow into slits. “Seriously, do you believe everything you read? Our fathers wanted us to marry. My dad because Trenton’s father is one of his business partners, and Trenton’s dad because he’s afraid Trenton will marry their ex-maid’s daughter. We were never together.”

“There was no great love connection between the two of you? Shocks of electricity when you touched?”

If the answer is no, it’s going to prove impossible to keep my hands off her. Hell, I don’t want to. I turn and rest my arm along the back of the sofa, waiting for her answer. It’s crazy. I’m never not in control, but when I’m around her, I can’t seem to think straight. She makes me want things I can’t have.

***

Lola

For several seconds, I sit in silence, unable to move or breathe. My entire body buzzes with adrenaline. Sparks? Not with Trenton. Sparks with Cade? No–it’s a raging inferno. And I’ve never felt a stronger desire to get burned.

His gaze sweeps across my bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. I press my feet to the floor to keep from throwing myself into his lap. I crave his touch. So why do I deny it? He’s nothing like I thought he was. We’re both adults. Single. And the chemistry between us is combustible. Unless it’s one-sided. Am I projecting my feeling onto him?

“No, there was never any electricity between us.” I shake my head. Here goes nothing. “Nothing like I feel when you look at me.” I bite my bottom lip and wait as the pulse at the base of my neck thumps and the edges of the room fade to black. All I can see is him.

Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. We’re co-workers and nothing else. Right? Why does it feel like it’s more? Why can I close my eyes and see us together ten years from now?

His nostrils flare, and his hands draw into fists, making me squirm. He stares but doesn’t move. Lord, do something before I die from anticipation or melt into a puddle.

When he smiles, my insides quiver, and my fingers tingle. The dimples are back. Lord, save me from those dimples.

“So, you feel something when I look at you?” As he slides across the sofa toward me, his hands relax. He stops when there are only inches separating us, and my heart thunders against my ribs. The heat radiating off his body makes sweat break out on my forehead.

As his fingertips rub over my shoulder, I inhale, lick my lips, and my nipples pucker with desire. I want his hands everywhere. “I feel an electric current whenever you touch me, and it goes straight to my toes. And that’s nothing compared to what it does to the rest of my body.”

“God, you turn me on. I want to stroke every inch of your skin before I taste all the same places with my tongue.” His voice is gruff, and does dangerous things to my sex.

I stare into his eyes. “What’s stopping you?”

“Nothing.” His mouth hovers mere centimeters from mine, and my head spins.

When he doesn’t move, I lean forward and meet his lips with the lightest of touches. His arms wrap around me, and the whispered touch turns into a reckless flurry of thrusting tongues and hands caressing everywhere at once.

As his hands lace into my hair, he tugs on the strands, giving him better access to my mouth. Like I’m going to deny him anything. I’ve fantasized about this moment since our first kiss in the elevator, but this one is so much more. More passion. More heat. More intensity. Then, I thought he was a prick. Now, I know he’s a good guy in disguise.

I yank his T-shirt out of his jeans and run my hands along his sides. For a second, he tenses, and his mouth leaves mine, causing me to groan in frustration. “Don’t stop. I don’t want to stop.” I dig my nails into his flesh, feeling the tightness of his muscles.

“I wasn’t stopping. I was only preparing to get a better taste of you.” His tongue trails along the base of my neck, where my pulse thumps under the skin.

My nipples ache at the eagerness of his touch. Almost as if he knows the effect he’s having on me, his fingers cup my breast and squeeze. I moan and grind my thighs together to ease the pressure in my core as wetness pools in my panties, making me slick and ready. God, I need his hard cock deep inside me. Now.

I trail my fingertips from his sides and down his abs until I reach the fly of his pants. The swift intake of his breath gives me the courage to explore further. Through the fabric, I rub the hardness of his cock with my palm. His girth and length stretch the material of his jeans.

He growls, and I increase the pressure of my movements. It has been so long, and he’s so big. Will he fit? All I know is I’ve never felt this craving for release in my life. The other guys I’ve been with were nowhere near as impressive in the package department. If it’s as good as it feels right now, he’s going to have serious trouble getting rid of me.

He pulls back. “What was that?”

“What was what?” I blink and try to figure out what he’s saying. Ding. Dong.

“It’s your doorbell.”

“I’m sure it’s no one. They’ll go away. Get back over here.” I wrap my arms around his neck and drag him back to me. Ding. Dong.

“I don’t think they’re going away. You should probably see who it is.” Cade pulls back, stands, and re-tucks his T-shirt. I watch as he adjusts his dick inside his pants. Whoever it is. It had better be important. I’m not feeling friendly toward the pussyblocker.

“Fine.” If it’s someone selling frozen meat door to door, I’m going to slam the door in their face. I had my hand on the only meat I’m interested in devouring.