Chapter 9 - Cade
NINE
CADE
For twelve months, this moment is all I fantasized about—and it’s living up to every expectation.
Aspen throws herself farther away, not understanding there is nowhere for her to go.
When she rolls off the bed and gets to her feet, I’m quicker, snatching her face between my thumb and forefinger until digging into her cheeks.
She inhales sharply, gaze darting to the dried blood on my fingertips, but if she wants only clean skin to touch hers, then no other man will go near her.
She attempts to rip from my hold, to yell, but it only comes out as a grunt. Apparently, announcing her date is indisposed may not have been the best way to reveal my return. He’s alive—unfortunately—but he won’t be walking right for a while.
“You’re a maniac,” she garbles, once again trying to shove away from me. My free arm bands her waist to pull her closer.
“Ah, ah. I’m your maniac. I’m yours and you’re mine.”
“What are you talking about? We barely know one another.” Her eyes narrow, chest rising with deep breaths, drawing my attention to her body. No bottoms, just panties, and an oversized shirt that hangs barely past her hips.
I loosen my grip on her face before accidentally bruising her. “You were given to me through the program. You spoke to me. You came to visit me, and you made me gifts.”
Her head flings backwards, her attempt to escape once again going nowhere.
Fire burns in her bright blues, and I fucking love it.
This right here is the light I witnessed simmering across a metal table.
Dressed up like a good girl, but vicious beneath those thin-ass black tights that filled my dreams.
“It was a program.”
“It could have been a fucking church—it doesn’t change that your soul was marked as mine.”
She scans the room and then me, her eyes flicking over my face, the blood, before a chill settles over her and her breathing turns shallow. “A-are you going to hurt me?”
“Not in any way you won’t enjoy. What part of ‘you’re mine’ didn’t you understand?” I’d bet my next ten years of freedom that she prefers it rough over gentle. A fucking rather than making love. Whether she’s aware of this yet is a moment I anticipate discovering.
Apparently my words made her decide she’s safe enough to go on the attack again. It shouldn’t surprise me, considering this is the woman who once wore a dress into a prison’s visitation where men have gone years without pussy.
“You’re insane. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
You’re what’s wrong with me, I answer her last point mentally, skip the second, and reply to her first. “I know you. I know you’re adorable and sexy and fiery.
You go on dates with strange men when you’re already taken.
Tell me, Aspen”—I bear down on her, her toes painted with a pink nail polish brushing my boots—“how many of them did you let fuck you?”
How many men will I be killing?
She gasps. “None, not that it’s any of your business.”
The blood has long been dried, so I make a show of licking the red marks on the back of my hand—the one tattooed with her name, if she were to pay attention.
“Considering I’m the one coated in your date’s blood, it’s very much my business.
I can forgive you for tonight, and maybe all the others since you didn’t let them touch you because you knew you were already taken. ”
She seethes, but at least she stops fighting as she repeats with a low tone, “What did you do to him?”
“Do you care?” Challenge meets challenge, proving she’ll be so fun to play with. “He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking. Had you gone home with him, we’d be having a different conversation.”
Her steps take her backwards, to the wall, which only helps me in the end. “When did you get out?”
“Two days ago.”
Her eyes cut to the corner of the room as the math almost visibly plays out. “Wait, so you came right to me? That’s how you know where I live—you’ve been stalking me.”
What part of this whole thing does she not get?
Although her fear is understandable, it’s nothing I will stand for.
When I was locked up and she was my visitor, my mood remained polite, but that isn’t the man she’s getting.
Being the good prisoner and avoiding infractions ensured my sentence had no reason to get extended.
Then I met Aspen, and my sentence was a ticking time bomb.
Her eyes briefly tighten shut before centring on me again. At least there’s some sense in that pretty head of hers. Don’t take your eyes off danger. “Cade, the last time I saw you, you were—”
“Watching you walk away from me, unaware it’d be the final time I’d get to see you for a while. That you’d enter my life, make me addicted to your very essence, and then march your sexy ass out of it. At least this year, we’ll have a better V-Day together.”
“You’re crazy,” she breathes.
“So you’ve said.” Finished with the distance between us, I grab her again and haul her towards me, tripping her until she lands flat on her back on the bed.
I trap her in place with my knees, hands on the mattress beside her as I lean over her.
“Crazy is one definition for what you’ve made me.
If you don’t like it, you have only yourself to blame.
You are Frankenstein, and I am the Monster—your creation.
If you don’t get the reference, I’ll blame the fact you dislike reading. ”
The quip is to prove I remember everything about her. Every little thing within her letters that I’ve read over and over, practically having them memorized at this point. Including the part where she said she’d try reading 1984 for me.
A glance to her side table reveals the novel, a bookmark jammed into the centre of it.
She tips her head to follow my attention, and red blossoms on her cheeks, reminding me of our first meeting. “It’s interesting, though I’ve had to renew the book a lot. Like, a lot.” She faces me again, jaw tightening. “Or was that a lie too, while you were playing the good inmate?”
“I’ve never lied to you. Reading’s always been a favourite activity of mine.”
Her disbelief couldn’t be any less obvious as she rolls her eyes, defiance trickling into her tone with the same venom watching her tonight has filled me with. “What else fills your nights, Cade? Tell me who you are.” Another glance at my shirt and she mumbles, “What you are.”
That truth is for another day when she’s less scared of what me being home means. Eventually, everything will fall into place.
“Yours. It’s all that matters.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I’ll continue to ’til you understand.” I lower my arms until our faces are aligned, coming close enough to finally taste the glossy lips I’ve jacked off to too many times. She pushes her head back into the mattress—even while her hands curl into the material of my shirt.
Interesting little conundrum she’s experiencing.
The question of why she did it—why she cut me from her life so abruptly, what that “personal” reason was—rests on my tongue. But today isn’t the time; we have the rest of our lives. There are more important things while she’s beneath me, heart racing, blood rushing and making her flush.
Things I only fantasized about so far.
I shift my weight onto one hand to touch her.
To stroke her properly, skirting my fingers through her strands as I cup her cheek and force her face up.
A thumb beneath her eyes makes her inhale sharply.
She readjusts her head, giving me the opening I needed; my head lowers into the curve of her neck, allowing me to breathe in the honeyed florals that’s tainted my nostrils.
She doesn’t stiffen. Doesn’t try to pull away.
Her heart continues thrumming beneath me, so I take the invitation and drag my nose in the space behind her ear, hiding my grin when her chest hikes.
“It’s been ten years since I last fucked a woman.
For nine of them, I couldn’t care, but then you made me yours and each day after was the worst kind of withdrawal.
Pain every fucking day you were gone from my life. You will be the greatest fix.”
“You know how old I was ten years ago?” she mutters into my hair.
“If you’re trying to dissuade me by reminding me of our age difference, it won’t work.” It may have once been a reservation for me—and if it were anyone else, still would be—but Aspen’s age doesn’t change my feelings.
After placing a nipping claim to her collarbone I expect her to feel for hours more, I move down to where her skin disappears into her shirt. She’s unbelievably soft, and a low noise from her throat is all the consent and confirmation needed to continue.
I rub my cheek along her chest, feeling the tight nubs of her nipples through the material. They’re invitingly hard, and my teeth bite one over her shirt, light and testing.
Fists thump the bed beside her, and I smile at the obviousness in her dislike of her own desire. There’s so much I long to do, and tonight isn’t the night, but fuck if I’ll walk away without a little taste.
“So, so beautiful.” I give a little bit of praise to see if that still gets her.
I shift to her other nipple and wet the material there, too, before biting even harder. She whimpers in pleasure, and her sharp inhale jolts straight to my cock. If she says my name, I may just toss aside all my plans and take her right here, right now.
Do it. Give me permission.
“It’s been a long year of envisioning this.”
She annoyingly remains silent, but her hips rock gently into mine. Her body goes lax, lost to the sensation, but as her hips touch mine, she feels my own desire. Weight drops into her suddenly until she’s pressing into the bed, having reached her max for tonight.
With a final nip of her chest, I step back and adjust my jeans, tight from having her beneath me. “Did you like the flowers last year?”
Her tongue sweeps her bottom lip before she nods, more of a jerk of her head than anything else. “Millie enjoyed the treats too. But how did you…?” She flushes again, the age-old embarrassment of not being able to point out the limitations.
“A friend,” I reply—a half-truth. “Details are unimportant. What matters is that you get some sleep because you have work in the morning.”
Her gaze darts over her shoulder to where the time on her phone shows it’s just past midnight.
She quickly turns to face me again, so I take the chance—the offer—and a hand to her face keeps her still, like an animal caught in a trap.
All wide Bambi eyes and breath that isn’t inhaling any longer, I take her cheek in my palm, the feeling of silk after a year of roughness like heaven itself.
Religion isn’t for me, but Aspen Tate might just make herself my kind.
I lower a teasing kiss along her mouth, much like the one I woke her up with. It’s nothing I’ve envisioned—nothing like I plan on doing to her. She’s gone through a lot of emotions tonight, so I’ll grant her the space to process and understand.
With my right hand, I lift the same hand of hers I claimed last year to bring it up to my lips, but she catches mine instead and dabs her thumb against her tongue before swiping it across my knuckles. It irritates me she’s touching anything of his after being around him enough tonight already.
“What the fuck, Cade? My name is tattooed across your knuckles. That’s permanent!”
“There’re enough tattoos on me already that I understand how they work, Aspen, but thanks for your university education in explaining them. Better question would be why you believe it isn’t normal to be marked in such a manner? We’re together, sweetheart, whether you like it or not.”
With her hand still around mine, I flip until I’m gripping her now and press a kiss to her knuckles, exactly as how I did before she walked away from me for good. My intent is understood based on the flicker within her eyes.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Aspen. After all, you and I have ourselves a Valentine’s Day date.”