Chapter 16
VALENTINA
I was pacing. Up and down; from the window overlooking the front yard to the dresser opposite it.
But trying to walk this off—this pulsing need for Caden right below my skin, pushing closer to the surface every time he touched me or whispered my name or I looked at him for a little too long, really—was harder than I’d imagined.
It was too easy to remember where all the flirting and half-kisses could lead. Where it had led, four months ago. With his lips all over me, his body between mine, and three orgasms. With sweet nothings whispered against my skin, and a warm chest to fall asleep against.
He hadn’t seemed like the type of guy to want his girls to stay the night, so I’d left before dawn had even broken.
Behind me, the door creaked open, and it didn’t take a genius to know who’d walked into the room. I must’ve still looked like a deer in headlights by the time Caden closed it behind himself again.
For a long moment, he just stood there, not daring to take a single step closer. He let his gaze fall down and back up my body—too slowly to be considered casual. Too intently to be considered anything but appraising.
You’re still up, he noted, voice low. Presumably not to wake the rest of the house. I appreciated that.
I left, like, two minutes ago. Of course I’m still up. The bite in my tone wasn’t justified. He hadn’t done anything wrong—I was the one that kept breaking my own rules over and over again. The one who kept jumping between loyalty and selfishness.
With a sigh, Caden leaned against the door behind him, crossing his arms lazily. Listen, he said. If you don’t want this, it’s not happening. That’s how simple it is. You don’t need a reason to say no.
Didn’t I, though? I thought every decision needed some kind of justification.
You don’t need to justify not wanting me, alright?
I couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t know better, but the assumption that I didn’t want him was so… far from the truth, I couldn’t hold back my amusement. I waved the look he gave me off. I’m sorry, I snickered. It’s just— I hesitated, then thought fuck it.
This was Caden, and I’d been brutally honest—borderline mean—to him since he’d gotten here. I still didn’t want him to like me, so why tell him anything but the truth?
Not wanting you is not the issue here, trust me. He perked up—straightened and narrowed his eyes at me, like he was trying to figure me out.
I wasn’t quite sure when I’d decided to cross the room, but I stood in front of him five seconds later. I do want you. So much, I’m considering breaking my morals every time you look at me like that. Lips slightly parted, blue eyes hooded, pupils wide.
He tugged a strand of hair behind my ear, and it took everything in me not to lean into the tender touch.
With a subtle grin, he asked, Sleeping with me would break your morals? That’s how awful I am?
That’s how awful I’d be for doing it.
In a sense, I said regardless.
The smile on his lips stayed, and he tilted his head, just slightly. We shouldn’t, then, he whispered. His hand still lingered on my cheek, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles against my skin. Touch, as always, light as a feather.
No, I agreed. We shouldn’t.
He turned us, brought my back against the wooden door, and let his hand linger where he’d placed it to move me: my waist. Because of your friends, he said. Right?
Sure. I nodded. Yes.
Now here’s a thought, though. And I was desperate to hear it, because I knew in which direction it was leading. Because I knew he was going to give me reasons to justify how close he was, and that I could have him closer if they were good enough. Doing something because you want it—
Doing you because I want it? I clarified, half a laugh on my lips.
He grinned. Yes. Doing me because you want it. Kind of like with that list of yours. You’re not telling anyone because you want to do that for yourself as well, right?
I’m doing that because I don’t think anyone would want to do it with me. But sure. Honest truth, again. But I couldn’t focus on the admission when his touch danced along my side, up to my chest, then over my waist all the way down to my hips.
Volunteering as tribute for item number seven. Sex on the beach. However presumptuous it sounded, I wasn’t at all surprised by the fact he remembered every list item in order.
Oh, I’m sure you are.
He grinned—still or again, I wasn’t quite sure. His hand lingered below the hem of my dress now, like he didn’t want to go further without hearing me say the words. I took a deep breath.
For myself.
Like the bucket list—the Me-List—I would do this for myself as well.
Because I was a grown woman who occasionally enjoyed casual sex, even if she had to keep it a secret.
Because I didn’t have to tell my friends everything, even if they did.
Because after this summer, Caden would go his way, and we’d go ours, and while he was part of this group now, he wouldn’t be by the time we’d left Oakport. Right?
Just sex, I confirmed one last time. And it seemed like he really had waited for me to say the words.
His hand drove under my dress, and his touch left a trail of goosebumps behind.
It lingered on my waist again, only that there was no more fabric separating us.
His fingers slid along the waistband of my panties.
I pressed the words out before it was too late, To get it out of our system. For real this time.
He nodded, drew my leg up against his side.
I sucked in a breath. Whatever you want it to be, that’s what it’ll be.
And I was so relieved—so ready to feel and taste him again, I didn’t doubt he was about to kiss me until he stopped only an inch short of my lips.
His forehead fell to mine, and the smile he gave me was cruel. Under one condition.
I almost groaned. I wanted him—I wanted him so badly, delaying what had become the inevitable any longer seemed torturous.
Since I’d set foot in this room a week ago, I’d thought about little else but having him again.
And now, when I was this close—when I’d managed to shove Iris and my guilty conscious out of my mind—
There are conditions to sleeping with you? I pretty much panted that laugh. And I thought I had you all figured out, Callahan.
He huffed, then turned us again, walking me toward our bed. A bunkbed was the opposite of sexy, but we’d have to make do with what we had.
Well, he said, placing one hand on top of my hair and gently guiding me onto his bunk, careful not to hit my head. You have your conditions, and I have mine.
Not telling my friends must’ve been my condition, then. Fair enough.
Let’s hear it.
He hovered above me again, similarly to how he had at the beach.
Only that now, there was a soft mattress below me, and fluffy pillows and covers around.
Twenty minutes ago, sleeping with him had been a wild fantasy.
Now, it seemed inevitable. I’d probably agree to any condition he had—that’s how desperate I was.
That bucket list of yours. I want in.
It wasn’t outrageous or scandalous or even particularly crazy. But my features fell regardless, out of sheer confusion. What?
You said no one wants to do it with you. But I’d love to play pool again. Watch the sunrise. Moonwalk fully. He winked, and his words drew another laugh out of me. At the sound, he closed his eyes.
Are you being serious? He was still above me, and I couldn’t quite believe— Your condition to sleeping with me is… spending more time together after the fact?
Hm, he hummed, considered my words. Seems that way, yes. What do you say?
I snickered. Yes, sure— Which was when his head dipped into the crook of my neck again. Just—why?
I should be focused on the way he was kissing me. The way my back arched off the mattress every time his teeth scraped my skin. But I was still struggling to wrap my mind around his proposal.
Why? I think he said. I couldn’t be sure, because the words were mumbled into my neck, and it seemed he wasn’t coming up to have this conversation with me.
I’ve been a—fuck. His hand was back below my dress, only that this time, its hem came up with it. He drew it all the way up to my waist, fabric bunched up over my underwear. Once, very quickly, his finger slid over my core.
You’ve been a what? His mouth was by my ear until it wasn’t. Until he suddenly kissed his way down my neck, my chest, grazed my nipples under the dress, and looked up at me with dark eyes. His finger was still hovering by my panties.
A bitch. I finally got out. I’ve been a bitch to you, and you still want me?
I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make me not want you.
Want me like this, yeah. But— I shook my head, squirmed when his thumb casually flitted over my clit. Again and again. Still, he was looking at me like we were having this conversation across the breakfast table, no parts of us touching. Like I couldn’t feel how it affected him pressing against me.
But?
I tried to mirror his nonchalance. You’ll always want to fuck me, sure. But that doesn’t mean you’d want to hang out with me. Watch the sunrise, play pool.
Shut up, Valentina. My inner voice kept shouting the words at me.
This seemed like a wildly inappropriate moment for this conversation.
What if I accidentally succeeded, made him see the flaws of his plan, and he stopped?
Stopped touching and kissing and looking at me that way. The thought was almost painful.
Caden shrugged. Like it was nothing, he slid my panties down my thighs. Taking his sweet time, fingers grazing my skin and becoming even slower when he’d almost had them at my calves.
I was not surprised to hear him say, They’re soaked, sweetheart, before he looked back up at me to finally clear up my confusion. I enjoy your company.
I’ve been rude, and unaccommodating. Honestly, outright mean—