Hellion
. . .
Ellie
I woke up to a pounding headache, wearing a man’s shirt that had no business being this comfy, my tongue replaced by cardboard, and with a furry cat sprawled over my face—very effectively blocking off my airways.
“Whiskey!” I groaned, shoving him off and immediately regretting moving at all. Everything hurt—even my lungs as I sucked in much-needed air. It took every ounce of my strength to push myself up onto my elbows and squint around the room.
With the curtains pulled tight, the room was almost pitch black.
And aside from me and my cat, the bed was empty.
There was no sign of Cade anywhere, which was both relieving and made me want to crawl under the bed and hide.
I groaned again. Last night had been… too much.
Too much wine.
Too much puking.
And way too much flirting with my off-limits client.
My whole body grew warm just thinking about how Cade had almost kissed me. Well, sort of almost. I’d thought he was going to, at least.
In fact, I was a little miffed he hadn’t.
Aside from all the vomit, I’d been very kissable last night.
And now I’d gone and fallen for him.
I took a deep, calming breath—and a delightful whiff of buttery and sweet baked goods pierced my hangover. It was like walking into Sadie’s kitchen, but the source was on my nightstand.
A selection of pastries was stacked precariously high on a platter, with a chocolate croissant showcased on top. Three tall glasses of water accompanied the food, along with orange juice.
A small note sat next to the platter, and I picked up the fancy gold-embossed yacht stationery with polished and precise handwriting.
Harry demanded my presence on deck. Drink water, take the aspirin, eat something without chocolate in it, and dial 33 on the room phone to order more food or an IV.
-C
My brows slowly crept up. IVs on demand must be a rich people thing.
Another note was added under the first.
You were sleeping when I came back. The cat’s been fed. I went to swim laps; won’t be long.
Drink the water.
-C
I blinked hard before rereading the second note. He’d fed Whiskey?
That was so not helping me get over my new and completely inappropriate crush on Cade.
I rubbed my pounding temples just in time for Whiskey to headbutt my face.
My fingers found his fur, rubbing absently. “Yes, yes. You’re starving and want second breakfast. I know.”
I popped the aspirin and downed half a glass of orange juice, then rolled off the bed and crawled to Whiskey’s food bowl. The smell of tuna was more pungent than ever—or maybe my nose had just grown more powerful from this hangover.
I fought back a gag and filled the bowl. “There you go. Eat up, my lord.”
Whiskey readily trotted forward and scarfed down his food.
Meanwhile, I rolled back to the bed and dragged myself up before contemplating last night.
Cade and I had come so close to kissing—I’d practically been begging him for it—but that didn’t mean he actually wanted to. What if he’d just been placating the drunk girl so I’d go to bed? That’d be embarrassing.
Whiskey seemed completely unconcerned by the almost kiss, so I took a page from his book and plucked the chocolate croissant off the top of my little pastry mountain. It was light and flaky, and I salivated just looking at it.
I took one ginormous bite just as the door clicked open, and Cade walked in.
He wore dark swim trunks without a shirt, and his dripping hair smelled sharply of chlorine.
I froze, having no idea how to act around him now.
His gaze latched on to my widening one at the same time I dropped the croissant into my lap.
Oops.
Cade tossed his gym bag onto the floor, knocking me out of my stupor.
With my cheeks as full as a chipmunk’s, I glared at the croissant in betrayal before carefully setting it back on the stack.
I needed to say something. Anything.
In the time it took me to chew and swallow, a dozen explanations crossed my mind for why I’d gotten drunk and made a fool of myself. A dozen more apologies were on the tip of my tongue, but none of them felt right.
“Hey,” was all I came up with, followed by a lame little wave.
Cade’s brows slowly rose, and I could swear he was fighting a smile. “Hey.”
The air immediately turned suffocating. I fiddled with the blanket, suddenly very aware I was still wearing his T-shirt and little else.
And I had no idea what my hair looked like.
I gulped as an awkward silence settled in, brushing the pastry flakes off my palms.
Cade wasn’t affected by the silence. He looked right at home as he approached the foot of the bed, glancing at Whiskey before returning his gaze to me. His mouth even quirked up as he crossed his arms—like he found this amusing.
I opened my mouth, then promptly closed it, and his half smile doubled in size.
“Rough night?” he asked.
Wincing, I patted down my hair. “I’m really sorry about yesterday. Especially the drinking. And all the vomiting. Did I ruin everything for you?”
“No, not at all. If anything, you just endeared yourself to Madison and my brother even more.” His smile turned wry. “No harm done.”
Relief loosened my shoulders. “What about this morning? Did I miss anything?”
“Lovejoy had a few drinks herself, so we all got some time off to recover.” He grunted. “Her next activity for us is after lunch, but I can tell her you’re not up for it if you’d rather stay here.”
“No, no. I can go,” I assured him. I had a lot of making up to do.
Cade chuckled and approached my side of the bed, his gaze not leaving me. “How’re you feeling?”
Nervous.
Overwhelmed.
Like my heart would beat its way out of my chest if he kept looking at me like that.
“Good,” I squeaked out, then cleared my throat. “Really good. Um, thank you for taking care of me last night. You didn’t need to do that. It’s not like it was in our contract or anything.”
The amusement faded from his face. “You think I’m heartless enough to leave you sick and alone because it wasn’t stipulated in a contract?”
“What? No.” I sat taller, pulling the sheet up to my waist. “I just meant… It was sweet of you, that’s all. The opposite of heartless.”
The tension eased from his shoulders.
“Sweet? Let’s not go that far,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “How much do you remember from last night?”
The simple question made me swallow again.
“All of it,” I whispered. But I frowned because his rejection still stung. “Including the part where you dangled promises of kisses, only to go back on your word.”
He breathed a laugh. “Now you’re calling me a liar?”
“You’re the one who tricked me,” I accused.
“It wasn’t a trick,” Cade said calmly. “I wouldn’t play games with you like that.”
My eyes narrowed. “So you did want to kiss me?”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Let me be very clear. A kiss is just the tip of the iceberg of what I want to do to you, Darling.”
My brain stopped working. “… What?”
He leaned his knee against the mattress, his smirk widening. “Most of it involves this bed right here. Some includes that die Lovejoy gave you—”
“Stop!” I cried, half laughing and falling back against the pillows. I yanked a sheet over my head to hide my flaming cheeks at his boldness. “Oh my god. Don’t talk about the die, please.”
Cade laughed quietly, and his hand cupped my jaw, making me freeze. Through the sheet, I could feel his thumb rest on my bottom lip—gently caressing it. My breathing stuttered to a stop, the sheet between us both ridiculous and unexpectedly erotic.
“This is all I could think about last night.” His thumb added more pressure, and my pulse skyrocketed. “This lip right here.”
Oh.
My toes curled hard enough to wrinkle the sheets.
“Cade,” I whispered, really enjoying wherever this was going.
His thumb disappeared, and weight settled on both sides of my head—as if he’d caged me with his arms.
It was both hot and a little alarming how the white sheet tightened against my face. It probably made me look like a gobsmacked ghost to him.
“You still want out of our deal?” he murmured.
I blinked against the fabric. How could he ask that now, when I was practically panting for him to kiss me?
I swallowed before whispering, “No.”
“Good,” he whispered back.
He sounded closer than before, and a moment later his lips pressed teasingly against mine through the sheet.
It wasn’t a kiss, not really, but my veins still ran hot like they’d been flooded with lava. Just a slight mold of his lips against mine—with the blanket between us—but it was over before I could really react.
He pulled back with a sigh. I pushed up off the mattress, chasing his lips.
“We need to be on deck in thirty minutes, and I still need to shower,” Cade whispered, just a breath away.
I swallowed, tempted to tell him we could skip the next retreat activity. Or maybe we could shower together to save time.
Instead, I didn’t dare say anything. I didn’t even breathe.
Cade hummed, close enough that the slight vibration traveled through my lips. “But I also told you I’d follow through when you aren’t drunk.”
Air finally filled my lungs. “I’m definitely not drunk anymore.”
He chuckled and nipped at my bottom lip, earning a soft gasp. Cade pulled down the blanket in a way that could only be described as torturously slow—giving my hair enough static to stick to my cheeks—while I just lay there, feeling a bit like a dead body being revealed.
My blood warmed in anticipation of a real kiss as soon as the sheet passed my lips, and Cade leaned in—right before Whiskey took a flying leap at his head.
“No!” I cried, but Whiskey hit his mark with perfect aim.
Cade grunted and backed off, grabbing Whiskey’s fur. “Holy—”
Whiskey jumped off Cade and landed on my stomach, knocking the air out of me and sniffing at my shirt—well, Cade’s shirt—to investigate.
I scratched under his chin and tried to smile apologetically at Cade. “Sorry. I think Whiskey considers me part of his treasure hoard, and he has a bit of a possessive streak. We’re working on it.”
Cade watched Whiskey headbutt my chin and raised a brow, unamused. “I’ll leave the little hellion with Mac next time.”
I bit down hard on my lip. Next time?
But the spell was broken. Cade backed away before disappearing into the bathroom to shower, and I snuggled Whiskey to my chest—earning a displeased meow.
“Sorry,” I murmured, easing my hold. My cheeks hurt from how big my smile was. “I’m just a little smitten.”
Unimpressed, Whiskey rubbed against my arm before breaking free and returning to his pillow.
The splash of the shower came on, and I allowed myself to fall back against the pillows.
The warm and fuzzy giddiness Cade made me feel overshadowed the hangover, and I stretched against the cloudlike mattress—daydreaming about what could’ve happened if Whiskey hadn’t interrupted.
I was smiling like a fool and kicking my feet when the door flew open, and a scream tore from my throat.
A dark-haired woman draped in pearls and cashmere strolled inside like she owned the place. I leapt off the bed—legs caught in the sheets—and crashed to the floor in a heap. I struggled against the blankets just as Whiskey trotted up to my side.
“Oh dear.” The intruder raised a tanned, manicured hand to her chest and frowned sharply at me—as if I were the one who’d walked in on her half-dressed. Her dark eyes narrowed. “What are you doing in my quarters?”
Before I could comprehend her words, Cade burst through the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist.
Soaking.
Wet.
All thoughts of regal, unsmiling intruders left me, and I could only stare at his bare, glistening chest.