Chapter 4
CADEN
Valentina had excused herself from breakfast after a single piece of bread and a forkful of eggs. The hangover, she’d said, but it was obviously not the alcohol that had spoiled her appetite.
It was me, and whatever silent conversation had happened between us beforehand. Whatever had been going through her beautiful head, right before the corners of her lips fell back into a straight line. Right after she’d lied to her friends and told them my presence was fine.
They must’ve had no reason to assume otherwise, which led to my observation: You didn’t tell them.
What? She asked, distractedly rummaging through a tote bag on the windowsill. She’d showered and gotten dressed in the meantime. Her cherry-red hair was still wet, and she was wearing more than that fucking T-Shirt she’d walked around the house in earlier.
I cleared my throat to steer away from the image; stay clear of anything that could make this conversation very awkward, very fast.
A boner, for example.
You didn’t tell your friends, I repeated. About us.
What us, asshole? A voice in my head screamed.
It damn-near pleaded with me to get a fucking grip.
But, in the past twelve hours I’d found out that every time I looked at her, reason went out the window.
Her brown eyes met mine, and all I could think of was the way she’d looked up at me when I’d been buried deep inside of her.
That it had been four months since then, and I desperately needed to see her that way again.
She finally turned around, and a zing of awareness shot from the tip of my toes to the crown of my head when our eyes connected. Embarrassing, I thought, how predictable the effect she had on me was.
About us? She repeated my words slowly, maybe because she was just as confused about my desperation. Maybe because she took pity on me. I’d never have taken you for the kind of guy who’d care about whether I did or did not tell my friends about… us.
And usually, that would be spot on.
I was not the kind who cared. In fact, I was the guy who appreciated his business not being spammed across various group chats and close-friend stories. But alas, here I was. Caring, for some reason. Kind of annoyed that she hadn’t told them, for another one altogether.
You’d be right, I confirmed, although reluctantly. I just thought that’s what girls did after— I hesitated, unsure whether I should’ve led the conversation where I just had. The sun was out, it was barely noon, and I was about to bring up the way I’d fucked her. It seemed tactless.
After?
After great sex. I crossed my arms, satisfied with the blush across her cheeks. Maybe I did still have an effect on her, no matter how hard she tried to play it off.
Valentina swallowed thickly, but to give credit where it was due, she maintained eye contact. Was that what we were having? she asked, batting her eyes innocently. Great sex?
It was a cruel attempt at riling me up—in every sense of the word. Her teasing voice, long lashes, and the way she tilted her head, just slightly, like she was deliberately trying to draw my attention to the spot she had wanted my lips and teeth that night.
You’d disagree? I asked, only to be saying something.
I knew she wouldn’t, but I was still relieved when she shook her head. Her gaze fell down my body once, quickly, like a silent invitation.
Which was what my legs took it for, anyway. They moved without asking my brain for permission first—knowing it would’ve said, don’t you dare. But everything seemed like an age-old instinct I couldn’t turn off when it came to her.
The way I stepped closer, almost crowding her against the windowsill. The way my eyes flicked to her lips. Over and over again.
At least she couldn’t help her body’s reaction to mine, either. Like they’d been waiting to be back in each other’s orbit for months.
No, she confirmed. But I don’t kiss and tell, Callahan.
I shook my head, wanted to roll my eyes. There was a smile on my lips, and I had no idea where it came from. You guys don’t seem like the type of friends to keep anything from each other. It wasn’t hard to grasp; a second with all four of them in a room and you could tell.
Valentina thought for a moment, then huffed—still so close I could feel her breath against my skin when she did.
We’re not. Her eyes flicked across my face, considering me.
Not that it’s any of your business, she prefaced.
But the guy Iris was dating ended things out of the blue.
Because ‘he didn’t want a relationship.’ She put air-quotes around the statement, then rolled her eyes.
Two weeks later, he had a girlfriend. I’d gotten home and she just found out.
It seemed rude to brag about the life-altering one-night stand I just had. So, no, I didn’t tell them.
I couldn’t help the sound that squeezed past my lips. A deep, satisfied hum of approval.
Life-altering.
Still, I managed enough restraint to dismiss the thought and say, That sucks. About Iris.
And I meant it, but my sincerity was hard to portray when the words life-altering one-night stand still floated around my head, and when it took everything in me not to push that damp strand of hair behind her ear after she shook her head.
Just so we’re clear, though. I wish I could disagree, she added, circling back. I wish you’d been terrible, and I wish I wasn’t still thinking about it every time I look at you.
The honesty in her words surprised the shit out of me. I almost choked on my own spit, that’s how much it threw me off.
When we’d first met, Valentina had been polite but playful. Charming, but never too much so. She’d been eager to please me, and I’d been dying to please her. She was still all of those things—but less of them.
Last night, she’d been outright the opposite.
Rude, unapologetic, and it didn’t seem like she cared about what I thought of her at all.
Sure, the alcohol had played a significant role in that, and the fact she’d found a near-stranger in her room as well—but still.
I wasn’t sure which version I preferred.
And I could only guess which one was real.
The version I was just getting to know seemed brutally honest, too, because she did not seem embarrassed by her admission.
Meanwhile, I needed a second to process those it. The fact that I wasn’t the only one playing that night on a loop in my head whenever we locked eyes. Like now, gazes holding because I was unable—literally not capable—of looking away from her.
I needed her, I realized. The way I’d needed her that night, just a million times more desperately. It’d been too long since my fingers had danced across her skin, and I’d swallowed every sweet sound of hers with my mouth.
That was months ago, I finally choked out. Again, my brain was not consulted before I said, I could refresh your memory, Valentina.
No matter how pathetic, she seemed to like my pleading ways. Her breath shallowed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and her eyes batted open—jumping from my lips back to my eyes.
She was right there, so close, I would’ve bet my entire savings account on the fact she was about to kiss me, and I hadn’t touched that in seven years.
A good thing, apparently, because I would’ve lost it all.
Valentina shook her head, took a step back, hit the window-sill, and turned around.
No, she said, resuming the search in her tote bag for fuck knows what.
It seemed she needed distraction more than whatever she was looking for.
I can’t, she continued, lowly. I want to—I want you to.
But I can’t. She shook her head again, as if to set the decision in stone.
As if the gesture was more for herself than for me.
I took a step back, and her body went from completely rigid to only slightly stiff. The only sound was her deep inhale, exhale. I still hadn’t said anything.
Caden. She spoke toward the window, eyes probably roaming the front yard and the single road that passed Alfie Dunbridge’s Summerhouse. Gone was the airy tone in her voice, the teasing lightness of it. I’m only going to say this once, and I want you to know that I mean it.
Nothing good ever followed a statement like that, but I put on my best smirk, took another step back, and leaned my forearm against the top bunk. I’m all ears.
I told my friends this is okay, because I love them, and I don’t want them to feel bad. But I’d like to make this perfectly clear—I don’t want you here.
Right. Cool.
Whiplash was an understatement. Two minutes ago, we’d been standing so close her breath had mingled with mine, her eyes had continuously flicked to my lips, and she’d undoubtedly considered the possibility of kissing me.
I had already come to terms with the fact that she would—that’s how sure I’d been. That’s how wrong I’d been.
It’s funny, I snickered. You want me here so little, yet you can’t say it to my face. What’s so interesting out there, Rhodes?
My words did exactly what they were supposed to. It only took a couple of seconds before she turned on her heels, strode over to me, and left us standing as close as we’d been three minutes ago.
Her eyes narrowed in sync with mine, and she brought her finger up to my chest. Poked it between each word as she repeated herself. I. Don’t. Want. You. Here.
But the tremble in her voice said otherwise. The way she sucked in a breath when I inched closer did, too. My lips were a hair’s breadth away from hers when I whispered, I’ll get over it.