Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
H olt didn’t make it home for bath or bedtime. It was nearing nine by the time he finally rolled up to the house. But the cake was finished, and it was damned fine work, if he did say so himself. He liked the challenge and precision of design. It gave him another use for the steady hands he’d so often turned to diffusing explosives.
He found Cayla on the sofa in the living room, a mostly empty glass of wine at her elbow and her e-reader in hand. Her bare toes had been painted a bright poppy red. Something about the sight of them made him smile. Maybe because the fact that she’d had time to do them meant the evening had gone smoothly. Her honey blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, and she seemed to be wearing—was that one of his button-down shirts?—with a pair of sleep shorts. She looked relaxed and comfortable. A far cry from where she’d started the day.
Her lips curved as he came into the room. “Get the cake finished?”
“Yeah. They’ll be by to pick it up tomorrow.”
“Good.” She tipped back the last of her wine and set the e-reader aside.
“Maddie go down okay? I’m sorry I missed bedtime.” Strange how fast he’d become accustomed to the routine. How he’d missed it.
“She’s not here.”
Holt froze in place, going on alert. He knew nothing was wrong, or Cayla would be losing her mind. No, this was something else.
She rose from the sofa and padded toward him. “I called in a favor and arranged a sleepover at my mother’s for the entire weekend. Because I have plans for you, and I don’t want to be interrupted. Again.”
Fire sparked in his blood as she closed the distance between them. “Where’s the dog?”
“Turns out being skunked, bathed, and having an all-day play date with Leno wore her out. She’s been passed out in her crate for about an hour.”
“Good to know. So you’ve got plans, huh?”
“Mmm.”
That purr of sound had the blood already draining from his head. He wanted to hear more of it as he peeled her out of that shirt and tasted every sweet curve of her body.
Tone conversational, she trailed her fingers across his chest, gently nudging him backward, toward the hall. “I thought you were gorgeous before I knew you. That was surface.”
Those fingers reached for the bottom of his t-shirt, sliding it up. “Add to that, we have chemistry. Really great chemistry. But that’s just biology.”
The shirt got stuck somewhere around his pecs, so he helped her out, dragging it off with one hand and letting it fall. Her eyes skated over his bare chest, going dark as they took in his tattoos before coming back to his face.
“Then I got to know you, and I discovered that dry wit, which is my favorite kind of humor.”
They passed into the bedroom. She’d installed the lock he’d bought, not that it looked like they’d need it tonight. One of the bedside lamps was on low. It cast just enough light to see the hint of cleavage where the shirt she’d robbed gaped open. His fingers itched to touch, but he kept them to himself for a little while longer, understanding she was going somewhere with all this.
“Then I saw you fall in love with my daughter. A major plus in my book.” She backed him up until his knees hit the bed. “And there’s that amazing, selfless willingness to help with literally anything, which I can promise you, is reason enough to make most women swoon.”
“Most?” He arched a brow, sitting as she nudged him down. “Not you?”
“Oh, it was a near thing, for sure. And I have a multitude of different ways I’d love to show my appreciation for all that. But it was really the JT that did it.”
Holt huffed a laugh, unable to resist gripping her hips. “Yeah? The singing?”
Her hands slid around his shoulders as she climbed up to straddle his lap. “That, and I really need to know what you can do with these hips without an audience.”
He pulled her down tight against his erection, loving the little whimper she made as he flexed against her. “All weekend, you said?”
“Mom’s got Maddie until Sunday afternoon, and I have no events and no meetings on the calendar until Monday afternoon because I cleared Monday morning for the grand opening. Consider it our honeymoon.”
Hell to the yes .
He started to kiss her, but she laid a finger over his lips, her expression turning serious.
“I just want to make it clear, in case it’s not already, that this is not about gratitude for what you’ve been doing for me or for Maddie—though God knows, I can’t imagine anyone else leaping in like you have. It’s not somehow transactional. I want you . I wanted you almost from the moment we met, and I’ve only wanted you more since. I’m choosing you for however long this lasts. I just needed you to know that.”
However long this lasts.
What would she say if he told her he wanted to make it real? That he didn’t want to end this whenever the threat of Raynor was resolved? That he was in love with her?
It was too much, too soon. She’d said she didn’t trust easy. Never mind that being with her was the easiest thing he’d ever done. He wouldn’t risk what he’d found with her by pushing for more than she was ready for. He wouldn’t push her at all. She needed to come around to the idea that this marriage was right in her own time.
But he could show her.
Combing both hands through all that silky hair, he drew her mouth to his. The taste of her hit him like a double shot of top-shelf whiskey, and he had to remind himself not to gulp, not to rush. This need had been building between them for weeks. Months, really. She’d made sure they’d have the time to savor each other, so by damn, he’d deliver.
One by one, he released the buttons down the front of her shirt, slowly baring her shoulders, her chest. He explored each new piece of her with lazy, lingering kisses as he palmed her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. She rocked against him, restless and needy, draining all the blood and a lot of his good intentions out of his head. If she kept that up, he was going to blow like a teenaged boy on prom night.
Wanting to last longer than that, he leaned back and rolled, until her back was pressed to the mattress and he could slide off the end. Her hair was already mussed, her lips rosy and swollen from his. He wanted to see what else was flushed and swollen for him. Hooking his fingers in the waistband of her sleep shorts, he dragged them down, taking the underwear with them, until she was bare to him. She wasn’t shy, didn’t curl up or hide. She simply lay back and let him look his fill. And God, she was stunning.
Snagging her by the ankles, he dragged her to the edge of the bed, wrangling a laugh from her. At least until he knelt and pressed her knees apart. Her laugh turned to a moan as he took a long, slow lick up her center. So damned sweet and already drenched. On a growl, he lowered his head and feasted. He’d been thinking about what she’d taste like, what she’d sound like when he took her like this, and he wasn’t disappointed. Her unmistakable cries of pleasure echoed through the room as he drove her up and up, until she shattered on a scream that was the best thing he’d heard in forever.
As he eased her down from the peak, she rolled her head toward him, panting. “I can’t even be annoyed about that cocky smirk on your face. Because… damn.”
His grin only broadened. “I think I understand now why you were so reluctant to get up to anything with Maddie in the house. You’re a screamer.”
Cayla dropped her head back, covering her face with both hands. “I mean, it’s been six years. I’ve got some pent up… needs.”
Six years. So no one since her ex. An unreasonable sense of possession and satisfaction shot through him at that. He wanted to claim every inch of her as his. That was just one more reason to take his time.
Holt dragged her hands down so he could look into her eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. I fucking love it.”
Those eyes darkened, and a feline smile curved her lips. “Then why don’t you come up here and let’s see exactly how much you can make me scream?”
Somehow Cayla found the muscle control to scoot back on the bed, leaving room for Holt to join her. He kept his eyes on hers as he lowered the zipper and eased the cargo pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection. She wanted to wrap her hands around the proud, thick jut of it, but she wasn’t quite sure how to handle this part of the proceedings, so she waited to take her cues from him. He turned his back to her, giving her a view of his magnificent ass as he sat and worked off his clothes. The outer sleeve of his prosthesis came all the way up his thigh. He rolled it down, carefully extracting his leg and setting the artificial limb aside. Then he rolled down the inner sleeve, and she spotted the deep groove on the outside of his leg. Up ’til now, he’d been very careful to shield her, always wearing shorts or undressing in the dark, but there was no hiding the scarring that told a story of incredible violence and pain.
She didn’t realize she’d gasped until his shoulders bunched.
“Shrapnel.” The word was clipped and brusque, ripe with unspoken horrors.
Not wanting to reopen that wound, Cayla crawled down to him, skimming her hands across those rock-hard shoulders, following with a slow trail of kisses. “Come to bed, warrior mine.”
He twisted to search her face. She held his gaze, letting all the raw heat and hunger show in her face because the last thing she wanted was for him to mistake her compassion for pity or disgust. At last, his shoulders relaxed, and he tipped her back with a wicked glint in his eyes.
Slowly, so maddeningly slowly, he kissed his way up the length of her body, starting at her ankles. Those nibbling kisses lit little fires in their wake, adding layer upon layer of sensation with each inch higher. At the juncture of her thighs, he took a detour that had her bucking and desperate.
“Oh God, I’m so close.”
“Good.” The heat of that one smug syllable against her center had her quivering at the edge.
She tightened her hand in his hair and tugged a little. “No. I want you inside me this time. Come here.”
For once, he followed orders, climbing the rest of the way up her body and reaching for a condom from the box on the bedside table. He rolled it on, giving his erection a testing stroke.
“Mine,” she breathed.
The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Yes, ma’am.”
He settled between her thighs, bracing himself above her with an arm on either side of her shoulders. Cayla loved having the weight of him over her, feeling him surrounding her. She reached between them, finally getting her hand on him as she guided him to her entrance and lifted her hips. “Now. Please.”
Face a mask of concentration, he pressed inside her, and she lost her breath. She was wet and so ready, but he was big.
“Okay?”
“So okay,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”
He sank the rest of the way in, and she cried out at the sensation of him filling her up, her body arching in search of more. Then he began to move. A gloriously slow advance and retreat, going a little deeper with every stroke until he hit some vital point and made her shatter.
She was still shuddering when he rolled to his back, taking her with him so she straddled his hips. Dizzy, delirious from pleasure, she gasped again as he continued to move, his hands gripping her thighs.
“Ride me,” he ordered, and damn if that bossy tone didn’t have her body climbing again.
She could see him better from here, watch his face as she moved, learning what drew out that gasping growl. His eyes were blue flames on hers as she dragged her hands up her torso to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples as he’d done.
“Cayla.” He groaned her name, and it sounded as much like a prayer as a plea.
It had been so damned long since she’d felt like a woman. Since she’d felt desired. And she’d never felt wanted like this.
His exquisite control was starting to fray. She could feel it in the tightening of his grip, holding her tighter against him as his movements shifted in rhythm, holding longer inside her before he drew back and thrust again. A wave building, building as it got closer to shore.
He came on a roar, his head thrown back, the tendons in his neck cording. The pulse of him inside her tipped her impossibly over the edge again, into delicious madness.
Sweaty, exhausted, Cayla simply wilted down over his chest. It heaved as much as hers. From some deep reserve, he found enough energy to wrap his arms around her, turning his head to kiss her cheek. That little gesture of tenderness made her heart flutter, and she cuddled against him, basking in the sensation of closeness.
They lay in silence for a long time. So long, Cayla wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Summoning the last dregs of energy, she lifted her head a few inches to peer down at him.
His eyes were open and on her, the corners crinkled with a smile. “Well, I think we’re going to have to make some investment in soundproofing.”
She damned well wasn’t going to apologize for enjoying herself and him. “You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to smack you.”
“That wasn’t a criticism. I’m going to need to make you do that again as many times as possible.”
More than mollified, she folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them. “While I am fully in support of this plan, we’re going to have to get creative. New lock aside, we still have a very adorable cock blocker in the house.”
Holt stroked a hand down her spine, ending with a proprietary squeeze of her butt. “I’m extremely motivated.”
“I am extremely hungry. I say we clean up and go forage before taking all possible advantage of the time we’ve been given.”
“I might have brought something home from the bakery. Why don’t you go check. I’ll be along shortly.”
Understanding he needed a few minutes, she kissed him soundly and scooted off the bed. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she headed for the kitchen, grabbing Holt’s t-shirt off the floor and slipping it on. From the crate in Maddie’s room, Banana Bread stirred.
Her gold and black tail wagged as Cayla came in. “Guess we woke you. No surprise there. I’d apologize, but I’m really not sorry at all.”
BB trailed her into the kitchen, where she found a bakery box on the counter and pounced on it like a kid. Nestled inside was a stack of sugar-dusted lemon bars.
“Unicorn,” she murmured.
Lifting two out, she carried them with her as she opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch. The dog dashed into the yard and began to sniff.
“Stay close. We aren’t gonna have a repeat of this morning.”
While she waited for BB to do her business, Cayla took a huge bite. The tart, sweet buttery goodness melted on her tongue, dragging out another moan.
“Getting started on another round without me?”
“Hush, I’m having a religious experience here.” She shoved the rest of the bar into her mouth as she turned.
Holt stood framed in the doorway. The cut-off sweatpants he wore hung low on his hips, leaving the v-grooves on either side of his six-pack abs exposed. The sight had her mouth watering for a whole other reason. He strode out to join her, bending to skim his lips along her throat before taking a bite of the other lemon bar in her hand.
“These are amazing.”
“I had some time on my hands while I was waiting for the cake to cool. I know chocolate is Maddie’s favorite, but I was taking a guess that lemon is yours.”
“Good guess.” She took another greedy bite, sighing with utter contentment. “How many calories do you suppose orgasms burn?”
“No idea. We could probably google it.”
“Nah.” As BB trotted by them to go back inside, she tapped his cheek. “You just have to give me enough of them to counter all the baked goods you keep bringing home.”
His eyes crinkled again. “We’ll consider it one of the unspoken vows.”
Cayla’s heart gave a lurch. She’d made vows to this man. All the love, honor, and cherish ones. She hadn’t given a lot of consideration to them at the time, all her focus being on the end goal of protecting Maddie. But they scrolled through her mind again now because she found she meant them. She wanted this marriage and everything that went with it. And as she stood with him under the spring stars, it felt entirely possible that he just might, too.
Back in the kitchen, BB waited patiently for a dog biscuit. Cayla dug one out of the jar. “Good girl.” The dog nipped it neatly out of her hand, then took herself back off to bed.
“Well, I guess she’s still tired. Or maybe she doesn’t want a front-row seat to the rest of our shenanigans.”
“Shenanigans, huh?” Holt grinned and grabbed them both another lemon bar.
“Shenanigans. Debauchery. Sexcapades.” She shrugged. “Pick one.”
“Oh, I definitely like sexcapades.”
Nibbling on the half a lemon bar he passed her, she mused, “I wonder how many fantasies we can squeeze into the next thirty-six hours.”
“I’d say that depends on what those fantasies are. Throw some out there.” He shoved the rest of the lemon bar in his mouth.
“Wall sex.” She blurted it out before thinking better of it. “I don’t know if the mechanics are practical or?—”
Holt smirked again. “So, the thing about being an amputee is that it’s in my best interest to keep in peak physical condition. It helps with all sorts of things.” He stalked closer, skimming his hands down her back to grip her thighs. “Strength.” He lifted her until she wrapped her legs around his waist, where she could feel that he was more than ready for round two. “Balance.” He carried her effortlessly into the living room, toward the nearest empty wall. “Endurance.”
She gasped as he trapped her between the wall and the hard, muscled length of his body. “I am a fan of all of these things.”
“Then grab the condom in my pocket and let’s start the count at one.”
Delighted, aroused, Cayla could only think that no matter how many they got through, in the end her ultimate fantasy was him.