Chapter 19
Caitlyn
I'm not at all surprised when I wake to find myself alone in bed.
What does surprise me is the minuscule hint of disappointment that bounces around inside me with his absence.
I managed to sleep a little last night, although I don't feel exactly rested right now.
I press my palms into my eyes, trying to rub away the sandpaper feel of them, but blinking only makes them seem scratchier.
Kiva lifts her head as I sit up on the side of the bed, but she makes no move to get up. The old girl is even less enthused by the idea of starting her day. Unlike her, I have a laundry list of things to get done today, and I always do better first thing in the morning, finding that my energy wanes as the day drags on .
I use the bathroom and wash my face twice, but even the warm water and the quick scrub of a washcloth don't ease the irritation in my eyes. I know from experience that a good night's sleep is the only thing that will fix it, and that probably won't happen any time soon, considering what happened last night.
I'm considering the possibility of moving as I make my way to the kitchen, surprised when the scent of freshly brewed coffee teases my nose.
I freeze in the living room, surprised to find Jersey standing in my kitchen, holding a cup of coffee.
He watches me as if he knew the exact moment I would come out of the bedroom.
"I made coffee," he says, angling his head toward the single-serve/full-pot combo machine. "The dog came out earlier. I didn't want to dig through your things to find the food."
The declaration seems out of place. The man came up on my front porch and fucked me, but he sees it as a violation somehow to go into my pantry and get the dog food?
"Thank you," I tell him, grabbing the kibble from the pantry and filling Kiva's bowl before venturing toward the coffee pot.
"Her name is Kiva," I tell him as I pour a steamy cup of coffee, knowing it's the only thing that's going to keep my eyes open today.
"That's different," he says, his voice low as if he's considering the name.
"It means protect or shelter. I feel like she saved me," I say, cringing with my back to him because it feels too much like a confession.
"From what?" he asks, genuine concern in his tone.
I pour my coffee, trying to figure a way out of this.
He's here because he feels obligated as a man. There's no other reason. I can't let my mind run wild with ideas that he might have some sort of interest in me past what we've done. I don't even think that I want anything like that from this man anyway.
I blame his proximity for my body being so damned confused right now.
"Boredom," I say, dropping the spoon into my coffee before adding a little caramel-flavored syrup.
"Eli has been asking for a dog," he says absently, but it reminds me of just how many lines I've already crossed where this man is concerned.
I may not be directly connected to this man, but it could be argued and very easily won that I've crossed that personal/professional line because of his connection to Eli.
"Jericho and Aspen have agreed to let me bring Kiva to the cabin so Eli can visit with her," I say as I lean against the counter opposite where he's standing.
His eyes drop to my mouth as I lift my cup of coffee and take a sip. I can't tell if it's his attention or the hot liquid running down my throat that heats up my body.
I'm afraid it might be a combination of the two which spells more trouble than I have the energy for right now.
"I don't know that he'll ever let her leave," he says, his eyes taking what seems like a million years before they finally lift back to mine.
"I guess we'll find out," I say, looking away because I already feel like I'm just staring at him like a crazy woman.
How does he look even better with his hair mussed from sleep and stubble marking his jaw?
"I have an appointment with him later this afternoon. "
The small talk feels weird, but what else should we be talking about? It's not like I'm going to be the one to bring up the other night or even him watching me relentlessly many times while I'm secured to a St. Andrew's cross at a damn sex club.
I feel even more embarrassed about being there now that I'm fully clothed than I did when his eyes were on me while I was stark naked.
"I think—"
He pauses when the click of toenails drifts into the kitchen.
We both watch the far corner of the entryway, waiting for Kiva to appear.
It seems I'm not the only one struggling for conversation this morning.
Kiva's eyes search the room until they land on me, but I don't maintain her attention for very long before those eyes shift to Jersey.
She lifts her head, sniffing the air before moving her body into a long stretch. She shakes as she stands back to her full height, her tail wagging when she notices the food in her bowl. As if she's in her own little world, she proceeds to ignore us in favor of her breakfast.
"What are your plans for the day?" I ask, trying to make it sound like I'm simply carrying on a casual conversation, but it doesn't feel casual.
There's so much left unspoken that I can't help but feel like I'm under a microscope, as if he needs to examine me in order to figure out what I might not be saying.
"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice turning a little growly as his eyes once again drift down my body.
I fight the urge to cross my legs and squeeze my thighs together because doing so would draw way too much attention to how this man makes me feel. The last thing I need is for him to read me like an open book and have some sort of opinion about it.
Remaining still doesn't prevent his eyes from roaming the length of my body once again.
"Will you stay here while I'm gone?"
"Do you want me to be here when you return?" he challenges, or at least it feels like a challenge.
"I just need to know what your plans are," I say, clearing my throat when the last couple of words come out weak.
"Because my plans affect your plans?"
I tilt my head, frustration growing inside of me at the realization he thinks my life is somehow a game.
"I need to know if you're going to be in my space when I get back from the cabin," I say, standing from my leaning position as if my full height would somehow make me taller despite our near-foot height difference.
I feel like he's toying with me, and there's nothing I hate more than someone who plays games and doesn't say what they mean.
"What?" he asks. I watch him shake his head as if he's trying to clear his thoughts, but it takes a second longer before he's capable of pulling his eyes from the front of my robe.
It's the same one I was wearing that night I pulled open the door and found him on my front porch.
Despite having pajamas under it this time, it doesn't keep my nipples from tightening with his attention.
His lips part slightly as if he's imagining that he can still see the outlines of my nipples against the fabric.
I chance a look down, realizing that despite the conversation we're struggling through, there's something about me that affects him as well, if the sight of his erection in his jeans is any indication.
I know the best thing right now is for both of us to ignore the attraction we have for the other until it ebbs and disappears, but his eyes on me make me feel things I've never felt before .
Having his attention makes me wonder what it would be like for his fingers to run over my skin, for him to take a meaty handful of my ass as he fucks into me.
I clear my throat, pulling his gaze back up to mine, and I instantly miss their attention on the rest of my body.
"Why do you go to the club?"
His eyes lift to mine as if I've broken some unspoken rule.
"Work," he answers quickly as he sets his coffee cup on the counter before crossing the room to get closer to me. "Why do you go?"
I watch his hand as it raises, the sight of it sending a frisson of electricity down my spine so strong I can't tell if it's because I'm afraid he'll touch me or in anticipation of him actually doing so.
"It's a form of immersion therapy," I say without considering the confession. "I can't stand for people to touch me."
His hand immediately freezes, and without thinking, I reach out for it, clasping his fingers in my grip.
"But for some reason, I ache for your touch."
Instead of moving to run his hand over my skin, he remains frozen, his eyes searching mine. I can only imagine my confession feels too heavy to him for what this actually is.
Maybe he thinks touching me now is too much of a commitment, but I don't see it that way at all.
"Please," I beg when he resists me, tugging his hand closer to my body.
"Caitlyn," he whispers as if denying me is painful.
I release his hand, taking a step back, my ass bumping into the counter and making me realize he's crowding me so much, there's no way around him without some part of our bodies touching.
The knowledge sends another thrill of excitement up my spine, and more than making me afraid, it electrifies me .
"Take your bottoms off," he says, his eyes locked on my lips.
I hesitate for only a second, his intentions becoming very clear when he pulls out his wallet, producing a condom before reaching for the button and zipper of his jeans.
I swear my core clenches, angry at its emptiness as I watch his hands deftly roll the latex down his length.
"Bottoms, Caitlyn," he growls, his tone gruff.
I rush to obey, my body growing ready for him without so much as an ounce of foreplay. It's in direct contradiction to how it responds when others are touching me in the club, except when I spot him.
I shove my pajama bottoms to my feet, stepping out of them as he closes the rest of the distance.
I wait for him to touch me, but although I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck when he leans in, he doesn't do so.
"Might as well take the rest off," he whispers into my ear, inching back when my hands turn frantic in an effort to pull my robe and pajama top off.
I moan when he inches closer, the tips of my aching breasts rubbing against his upper torso.
"Can you get on the counter on your own, or do you want my help?"
I look over my shoulder, frowning at the idea of having to struggle to hop up there.
"Help me," I beg, my voice throaty and filled with desire.
Without hesitation, he wraps his massive hands under my arms and lifts me, stepping back the second I settle on the counter.
"Feet up," he insists. "Open for me."
I swallow a lump in my throat but do as he asks, my leg muscles aching with the position .
I open my mouth to complain, but before I can, he steps in closer, the warmth of his thick cock settling right over my clit.
I look down, my cheek brushing his since he's doing the same thing.
"You make me feel out of control," he says, and I can tell by the hint of annoyance in his voice that it isn't something he's happy about.
"Join the club," I mutter.
He lifts his head, and I allow the scruff on his cheek to scratch my face before pulling back to look into his eyes.
Instead of wrapping his arms around me, he lifts them, palms against the cabinet at my shoulders.
"Tell me if it's too much," he says as his hips move backward.
With the skill of a man who knows exactly what to do in a moment like this, he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock settling exactly where it needs to go. Without warning, he pushes forward slowly, driving his thickness inside of me.
My mouth hangs open on a soundless moan as my heart begins to gallop inside of my chest.
But unlike many other times in my life, the racing pulse has nothing to do with fear that he's going to touch me and everything to do with worrying that he might actually not touch me.
He keeps his hands to himself, but every forward shove of his hips presses them against my body.
"Take this off," I urge, running my hands over his chest to the hem of his t-shirt.
He backs away, the slow withdrawal of his cock making my insides clench in an effort to keep him from leaving.
His eyes darken, but he remains silent as he lifts his shirt over his head before tossing it into the pile of my discarded clothes .
I'm not at all surprised by the expanse of muscles in front of me. I haven't seen one guy at the cabin who didn't look like they spent hours a day in the gym, and a lot of the wondering has been put to rest during my time spent with some of them in the pool during Eli's therapy sessions.
He's out-of-this-world incredible, and I hesitate only for a second before running my fingers over the dips and curves of his well-defined muscles.
His head dips, his mouth meeting the tip of one breast, the warmth and touch taking me so much by surprise that I yelp.
He must read my response as excitement because he doesn't pull back.
He's touching me in my most intimate spots with his cock deep inside of me, his hips barely pulling back before pressing back in. His mouth is wrapped around one nipple, but his hands are still pressed firmly to the cabinet behind me.
He's giving me what I need and somehow also respecting the boundaries I spoke to him about.
I open my mouth to tell him that I could try this with his hands on me, but before I can manage the words, electricity blooms from my center, the threat of my impending orgasm coming to the forefront so strongly it refuses to be ignored.
"Jersey," I whisper, locking eyes with him when he releases my nipple and pulls back enough to look into my eyes.
"Roman," he insists.
"Roman," I whisper just as the first wave of orgasm crashes over me.
His mouth drops open, eyes darting to our connection, and it isn't long before he follows me right over the edge.