Chapter Six
VIOLET
I jolt awake, heart pounding.
This isn’t my room, that hits me immediately. The bed is too big, the light is wrong and it’s quiet. New York in a snowstorm quiet.
For a moment, I’m lost.
Then Cade’s face comes to me, calming me and making my heart beat in a completely different way.
The warmth in his dark eyes that is just for me, one that never really existed with Jack. Not in the way Cade’s are. And his smile… Not any smile. The one for me.
The one that has always been for me.
But then as I slowly stretch and sit up, something heavy settles on me, like something’s wrong.
My brain’s still swimming with sleep, but I hurt when I shouldn’t. Not soreness from sex but…I touch my throat where it’s tender, and I look down.
A T-shirt. Not mine.
The ultra-modern room has a semi-lived in air.
A closet is open, and there are clothes, not a lot, but very Cade uniform. Black jeans, black shirts, black hoodies. A suit.
I frown, staring.
And then I remember his face. Beaten. Bleeding.
Everything tumbles down, threatening to crush me.
We were taken.
I turn and pick up my phone, looking at it, and I hesitate.
“Where the hell did my phone come from?” I look around me.
My backpack is on the ground near the door, and over a chair are some clothes that are mine.
I push back the covers and get up.
Yep, someone has gone and pulled out some outfits so they don’t get overly wrinkled, and I spy the silver corner of my laptop along with my bag of toiletries. I go to pick up jeans, panties, and one of my T-shirts…and hesitate.
A pretty sundress is there, too, bright and happy, and maybe enough to chase the ghosts of the previous day away.
I swallow.
And it’s previous day, not hours ago because my phone states it’s the next day, and it’s already afternoon.
How could I sleep for so long?
My legs tremble as I put the clothes down and, praying no one is gone on a washing spree, find the dress I wore last night.
I dig in the pocket and pull out the hairclip.
Smooth, silver, a curved wave that’d look pretty in a casual do or in something more evening. Classy with a touch of whimsical.
But then I look at it closely. I think it’s white gold and not sterling silver.
Either way, I don’t think Jean was a girl who fell through the cracks.
She comes from money.
“She must be missed…”
I set it down carefully and, leaving the too long T-shirt on, I head out the door, looking around.
Did Cade say we’re at Enzo’s?
“Wow, Ritchie Rich.” I look at the original modern art on the walls.
I couldn’t even begin to say who any of the artists are, but they look expensive.
I don’t open any of the doors in the quiet place that smells faintly of citrus and woods. It’s a calming, clean scent, and it smells rich, too.
For a moment, I try and think if Cade’s place smells rich.
Honestly, to me, now the weed isn’t in the air anymore, I think of it as honeyed and warm and slightly herbaceous, but more like the smell of…home.
Cade doesn’t have art like this, just framed posters I’m so used to. Old movie posters, some art cover prints from The New Yorker.
He has the entire floor, and I know a loft in Manhattan is expensive, but is it on par with this? I don’t know.
How much about Cade is there I don’t know?
Does he own his place? The building is cleaner than most, and he has neighbors on the floor below, but he has also fortified his place with some high-tech equipment.
“Equipment that didn’t work.” I swallow down the anger.
We were in there, why would he have it shuttered down like Fort Knox?
At the end of the hall is a set of stairs, and I take them, heading to the floor below.
The last step allows me a view of a great room, beyond that, a living room and also a kitchen that looks over a private garden.
And Cade.
He sits at the table, a laptop in front of him, his glasses on, and the sight twists my stomach and heart hard.
For a moment, I’m floored, not just by him but by that pull of anger from earlier that’s straight from our argument the night before, and it makes my skin heat.
I look at my feet as I make my way across the wide oak floorboards to the sandstone tiled kitchen and Cade.
He knows I’m there before he looks at me. It’s in the stillness of him, in the vibrating waiting that fills the air.
“Are you going to say something or just hover?” His voice is so The Ghost, but lighter, less dark, but so similar I really can’t believe I never picked it up. The humor that runs through it is all pure Cade.
“I know you and The Ghost are the same person, but sometimes…” I stop, slip closer to him, and do what he accused me of, hover about a chair.
His gaze cuts to me.
I shrug. “I guess I forget. And I was just thinking, ‘how did I not know when you started to speak to me as Ghost? How did I not know you’re also Cade?’”
“Skill?” His smile flashes.
“Don’t…” I sit, then look at him.
He’s still focused on his computer.
“Cade?”
“Yeah?”
“Look at me. Please.”
He does, and I scoot my chair closer, pulling off his glasses.
He doesn’t look like death took a bite from him anymore. He’s more bruised today, but with the blood washed away and the cuts over his right eye butterflied, he looks better than I expected.
And I breathe out a sigh of relief.
He smirks. “Here I thought you might be hoping I’d be suffering more.”
“Are you?”
He laughs and winces. “Only when I breathe and laugh.” But he sobers. “I’m good. They knew what they were doing. Maximum pain on certain places to make it feel like I was dying but…”
He takes my face in his hands. “It was bad, really bad, but I’m going to be okay.” Then he lets me go. “I don’t know if that’s something good or bad, as far as you’re concerned. You were fucking ready to add your own layer of pain last night.”
I bite my lip, then grab his hand and kiss his palm. “I’m kind of embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“Because I blamed you.”
“That’s okay,” he says softly.
But I shake my head. “It’s not. Because I don’t blame you, not really. Not when I think about it and have had some sleep. I threw a tantrum and—”
“Anyone would, Vi.”
I smile. “That, and how you were so nice, so good with me.” I swallow, the smile fading. “How you handled me made me just like you more.”
“Good to know. But you’re giving me ammunition.”
“You’d never use it.”
“Fuck, no, I wouldn’t. Unless it was for X-rated fun. Then all bets are off.”
I know I should laugh, he’s being funny, but a tendril of need and desire burns inside, flaring bright. “Noted.”
His finger streaks lightly along my hot cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, better. But I should be asking you that, I—”
“Then we’re both fine.”
God, why’s he being so nice to me when I acted like I was twelve? It doesn’t matter that maybe I had good reason, that maybe rushing off and demanding we find Jean might have come across as unreasonable—even though I’d do that again—but…
I take a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Cade—”
“For what? Being human?” His words are soft, measured, genuine. “I get it, Vi. Being locked up like that with no idea about what’s going on or why must have been beyond hard on you.”
I shrug. “You were in the same position.”
“Maybe…” He half nods. “But it’s not the first time I’ve been in that kind of situation, having to rescue someone who means a lot to me.”
I look at him for a long moment, trying to work out if I should be jealous or not. The green devil is there, ready to draw blood, but I’m not strangled by it.
“Means a lot” could be romantic or platonic, and maybe that’s not how I need to look at it.
Someone who means a lot.
I let it sit.
This is Cade. And he’s someone decent. I don’t think he’d be with me, wanting me if there was someone else.
I’ve never seen a someone else.
Then again, the name of his kinky game is the same as mine, secretive.
But he’s going to have a history, so…
And yet, he’s with me.
I crack a smile. “Cancun?”
Cade chuckles. “Maybe…”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
I narrow my eyes and stand.
He’s definitely playing me.
I move closer to him, trailing a hand down over his black T-shirt, to his jeans.
He’s hard.
And a jolt of satisfaction hits.
“You know. You’ve built this story up so much I have to know what happened.”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Not happening. Enzo will kill me if I tell you.”
“I’m willing to take those risks.” I climb on his lap.
“Are you now?” He grips my hips as I grind my naked pussy against his jeans.
And he groans.
Clearly, he knows I’m naked under his shirt. I’m also wet, so can he feel that, too?
I bite his ear, licking at his throat. “I have ways of making you talk.”
His grin widens. “You do?”
Ugh, I need him to free himself so I can push down on him.
I grind harder, grabbing his hand and pushing it beneath the shirt, at my pussy.
“I do. Tell me what happened?”
“You want to talk about Enzo while riding my cock?”
Behind Cade, Enzo walks in. “I’m not surprised, Cade. All the ladies love talking about me. They don’t care who they’re fucking, they love saying Enzo!”
Mortification grabs me, and I stop, but Cade just laughs. “They might talk about you, but they’re getting it elsewhere and loving it.”
“Mickey D’s?”
“You’re not funny.” And Cade slips his hand further between us, taking advantage of my mistake of rising up to get off him.
He pushes a finger into me, his thumb stroking my clit.
Oh, god, it’s so good. Pleasure ripples through me, happy little fingers of delight. And even though there’s an added beat of dirty goodness to it with an audience, I still try to wriggle off, but Cade holds me, curls his finger in me and strokes my clit, making me moan.
I look at him.
His devil’s smile says everything, and I really wish I had the strength to pull free, but I don’t. It’s too delicious.
“Think I left something downstairs.” Enzo at least has the decency to turn and walk out.
“Stop that,” I whisper to Cade. “You can’t with him here.”
“Can and did.” Cade nuzzles my throat. “Didn’t see you fighting hard to stop me. Your pathetic attempts wouldn’t fool a fly.”
“Cade…”
He pushes another finger into me, and I moan again. “You’re a dirty girl.”
“What does that make you?”
He suddenly pulls out and flips me onto my stomach on the table, spreading my thighs to stroke and tease my pussy with his fingers, sending me into sensory overload and a greedy need for more.
“A filthy miscreant?” He shoves his fingers back into me and starts to thrust as he bends over me. “Hey, I find it hot you like an audience. Tell me, were you getting off on the thought of being watched while I fingered you?”
Each stroke in me sends me spiraling up. It’s not even any kind of shock or surprise as to what is there. I know.
Bliss.
Pure unadulterated bliss, and it makes it all the more delightful knowing.
It makes it better.
I know he can make me scream and cry and beg for more.
Already, I’m unraveling at the edges, and I can feel that pressure and ache that come before euphoria.
And I love each journey and the different path that takes me.
I’m on that edge, shaking, the pleasure is there, too, coiled with that delicious ache. One more thrust, and I’ll be there, I’ll—
He stands up.
Stopping.
“Nooo.”
He laughs. “Dirty, filthy, needy girl.”
He takes my hand.
We’re not on the ground floor, I realize as we cross the sandstone to the warmer wood. There’s another staircase leading down from the one I descended.
But like last night, I don’t care. This time for entirely different reasons.
He leads me through a room that must be cozy in winter and has a floor to ceiling window, only it’s a sliding door, and the glass looks super thick.
Cade opens it.
There’s a balcony with seats and a railing.
We’re on the second floor, and this balcony faces the street.
My heart beats fast.
There are a few people out and about, and if anyone is looking from the buildings across the wide street, they’ll see us.
Cade goes down on his knees and slides between my thighs, his mouth on my cli for all to see, and he gives me no option but to grab at him and the railing and… oh, my god… That tongue is wicked, diabolical, and I’m lost as he starts to suck and lick, sending me back into the stratosphere.
How he knows what to do to keep me from tumbling into orgasmic relief is a mystery. He builds me up to that point, has me teetering, and I close my eyes.
“Open them,” The Ghost commands.
So, I do.
It’s frightening.
Exhilarating.
It sends me flying and keeps me gripped by a frustration that’s dipped in pleasure.
Because he’ll make me come.
He holds off time and again, pulling back each time my body starts to clench and sing, and then he pushes his fingers in me, pussy, ass, and he bites soft on my clit, and I scream.
Someone walking their dog looks around but doesn’t look up.
And that just makes me come harder.
Then Cade’s there. Pushing me up onto the side of the railing as he pushes into me with his cock stretching me.
He rides me, slamming hard, one hand holding up my shirt to expose me more, and the other grips the railing.
And some point, he starts to pull back, with me, so he’s lifted me, his hand sliding down to toy with my clit.
My feet go wild as he moves us down the balcony until I can gain purchase on the back of an outdoor sofa.
He slams into me, pushing me down so I’m now kneeling on that soft material, and I don’t even know if anyone is looking.
I moan loud, his cock pulling out and then slamming in, and my nipples are rock hard.
From him.
From the breeze.
From eyes on us.
I start to come again.
Wave after wave hits me as I spasm on him, and I’m just lost in that shattered world of bliss.
He comes, too. Grunting as he slams into me one more time.
As we come down, he lets the shirt drop, but remains in me, still hard, and he kisses my throat.
Then he whispers, “Next time, we’ll get even more daring if you’re up for it.”
“With you, I’m up for absolutely anything,” I say, breathlessly. “Anything at all.