Chapter 22 #2
When Anni said, Two balls went in. You have another turn. I shook my head, already on my way. Caden can take it, I half-shouted, and disappeared in the secluded hallway leading to the bathrooms.
It was exactly what I’d feared it would be like, the reason why I’d done my very best to stay away from Caden Callahan—first completely, then at least when anyone else was around.
It’s like self-control flew out the window the second he touched me, or looked at me or said my name in that way.
Even worse when he used one of the nicknames he’d made a common practice.
Val. Sweetheart. Baby.
All of them were doing things to me. So awful and dangerous, it shouldn’t be possible that they felt so good at the same time.
I wanted to run my face under ice-cold water, but my makeup prevented that. Instead, I stood in the dimly lit bathroom, fanning my face in front of the mirror with one hand, and running that cold water over the other. Something—anything—to cool me down. To wash Caden off me. To regain control.
I took a deep breath. Reapplied my red lipstick, color matching my hair. Looked at myself in the mirror until I stared back at a less flustered version of myself. Cool, calm and collected. Or at least something like it.
Another hour, maybe, until we’d be back behind our shared door, where no one could see us, devouring each other. I’ve got this.
One more deep breath, and I pushed the door into the hallway open—and ran straight into a chest. Caden’s chest.
Fuck! I wasn’t quite sure what was more prominent: my surprise or my frustration. I’d just gotten myself under control again, and there he was, ready to ruin all that progress. What are you doing here?
Officially, he said, and leaned against the wall behind him. The hallway was so narrow, though, that we’d barely be able to pass each other, so he was still too close. I’m getting another round of drinks.
And unofficially?
He raised his brows, like it should be obvious. Maybe it was. To underline his point, his gaze flicked down my body, then slowly lifted back to my eyes, lingering at the hem of my skirt. Instinctively, I inched it lower.
That’s what he was here for, then? Blowing off some steam, working out the frustration he’d channeled during the time his cock had been resting against my ass?
You okay? he asked instead.
And somehow, knowing he’d come here to check on me— not to kiss me or touch me or make use of one of the empty bathroom stalls behind us—made it worse. The bare minimum tugged at my heartstrings, made my insides clench and told me I was so fucked.
I’m fine. My head shook. Please don’t start being nice to me as well.
When have I not? His tone was mocking, kind of in the same way his touch was, when he hooked his finger under my chin and tilted it upward, until our eyes connected. Hm, Val?
Val. Sweetheart. Baby.
I’m sure there’d been times in which he hadn’t been nice to me.
If every part of my brain wasn’t consumed by him—his touch, his scent, his presence—I would’ve come up with plenty of examples.
Now, like this, with the way he tugged a strand of hair behind my ear, my mind was blank.
As far as I was concerned, Caden had always been as angelic as he seemed now.
Maybe he really had been.
I don’t know, I confessed, voice barely above a whisper.
And then, because I couldn’t take this—the tension, and maybes and the obvious way he was looking at my lips—I kissed him.
In some dingy hallway leading to the bathroom of a bar, my friends around the corner, I kissed Caden. Again, and again, and again.
When he tried to pull away, I followed. When I tried to pull away, he followed. Like we were stuck in some cat-and-mouse game neither of us wanted to win.
He let his head fall back against the wall, sighing at the way my lips trailed along his neck, biting and teasing until his breath turned heavy and his eyes dark. I shouldn’t enjoy him this much. I shouldn’t enjoy him at all.
We— I breathed, my face in front of his again, only inches apart.
I know. He shook his head, like he was hoping it would snap him out of whatever trance we’d transported each other into. We shouldn’t, I know. It’s just so hard—
His eyes ran down my frame again. This time, I didn’t adjust my skirt.
When you came out of our bathroom wearing this.
His fingers, still sprawled across my waist, played with the waistband of the denim skirt.
I wished we could’ve just stayed home. I wished I could’ve just— He leaned further toward me, lowered his voice, and his lips were tickling my ear when he whispered, voice rough, I wished I could’ve just bent you over the windowsill.
To underline his point, his hand dipped to the back of my thigh, grazing my bare skin, inching the denim upward—just slightly, to prove he could. I shivered.
Quite honestly, he could do pretty much anything, and I’d be completely defenseless. Even now, touching me in a very open, very public hallway, I couldn’t tell him to stop, because I didn’t want him to.
My last attempt at being reasonable was half-assed and weak. Should we get back? At this point, I was whispering. My voice was strained, and I squinted to read his face in the low light. Above us, a single bulb burned at half its capacity. Every now and then, it flickered.
Still, I could see Caden’s lips curving into a smile. We should, he agreed, and to my horror, his absence left behind an aching cold. Before I can’t guarantee ever letting you go again.
Which meant we’d disappear into a stall, and he’d fuck me thoroughly and wholly, and it would still be good, even if we were in a public restroom. Because he was Caden Callahan, and anything he did to me left me feeling blissful and on top of the fucking world. For cruel, unknown reasons.
I hurried out of the hallway, half of my mind on him, the other on the fact that I needed to seem less… on edge when I got back to the group. Behind me, Caden went the other way, toward the bar.
Thank God he was still thinking rationally, because I’d completely forgotten about the lie he’d told our friends. I was starting to get careless, which, arguably, was the worst part about this. He distracted me so much, consumed me so fully, that I almost forgot my friends could never find out.
I slid into the booth as I ruffled through my own hair— hoping it would explain why it looked three minutes post heavy make-out. It seemed Anni had abandoned our game of pool, because she and Mike sat on the other side of the table. Giving up? I asked with a grin.
Anni rolled her eyes. I don’t stand a chance with Caden on your side.
From beside her, Mike gasped. Babe, I told you I’d team up with you, he said, faking outrage and crossing his arms.
My bad, Anni snickered in amusement. We don’t stand a chance with Caden on your side.
She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Mike tried not to smile.
Unsuccessfully. Plus, she continued. These guys were heckling us for the table.
It seems they’re a lot more serious about their billiards.
They were yelling and cheering and booing and flipping each other off— simultaneously.
I wasn’t mad at the abandoned game. It seemed like the safe option, considering the last time I had the cue in hand, I felt Caden’s hard dick against my ass, and the insinuation genuinely had me considering sex in a bathroom stall.
That would be one hell of a broken law for my bucket list: public indecency.
Oh well, let them have their fun. Better than me having mine, for anyone involved.
My eyes drifted off the four guys, across the lively bar.
Conversations were loud, the music louder, and it was late enough to see some action on the dance floor.
From early teens—probably too young to actually drink—to pensioners, Blitz catered to every audience.
Well-informed tourists and regular locals roamed the bar, enjoyed a cool drink inside or on the deck or (if they asked really nicely and promised to bring the glasses back), on the beach below, accessible via those creaky, wooden stairs.
When Caden parted the diverse crowd, a tray of drinks in hand, my eyes widened.
In horror. And mortification.
He placed it on the table between us, and Iris screamed before I could give him a heads-up. My cheeks were turning the color of a very bad sunburn.
Caden! she gasped, her grin too wide to sell the scandalized tone in her voice. Iris pointed at him. His neck. To be more precise, my lipstick residue in the form of a million kisses on his skin.
I grabbed one of the glasses from the tray, hoping the clear liquid was water, and took a big sip, then—hopefully as inconspicuously as I’d hoped—wiped the back of my arm over my lips.
Fuck. How could I not have noticed that?
Clueless, Caden’s brows furrowed. What? he asked, the picture of innocence and confusion. I almost felt bad for him.
Mike’s eyes flicked back and forth between us, and I tried to ignore it.
Iris, still giggling, pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera.
Triumphantly, she showed Caden his own reflection.
Getting drinks my ass! Who did you just hook up with?
! she asked, looking around the bar frantically.
Thankfully, that meant she wasn’t suspecting me, at least.
Again, that made it worse, somehow.
Oh, he said, with a lightness and amusement in his voice I couldn’t have faked. He scratched his neck, presumably to smear the crystal-clear shape of my lips. Then, he tutted, I don’t kiss and tell, Iris.
I just hoped he’d stick to that.