Chapter 13 #2
"Goddamn it, Abigail, I've never said that to another woman before. I'm here humbling myself, baring my soul and would like you to listen. I need you in my life." He slid his hands up and down her arms. "I need another chance. Please."
She was conflicted. Being with him, feeling his body against hers, seeing the look in his eyes was weakening her resolve. She had spent years hating him for what he did to her, for tearing her young heart out and just walking away from her.
She had had to suffer through seeing him in the papers with some beautiful woman clinging to his arms and had managed to put it all behind her, until he walked back into her life.
"I need time." She saw the flash of pain on his face before he schooled his expression.
"All right. All right." His fingers gripped her arms and then relaxed. "How much?"
"Cade--"
"A week? Two? A month?"
"I don't know. I cannot just bury the past and what happened between us."
"No." He shook his head, expression bleak. "I suppose not."
Suddenly she realized that she could not bear the idea of pushing him away. "We could go on dates."
His eyes flared as he stared at her.
"You're saying--"
"That I want to, to get to know you."
She gasped when he hauled her up and closed his mouth on hers.
The lovemaking this time had more than a hint of desperation. He kept apologizing for his rough handling of her. When he drove into her, he did so with a fierceness and intensity that sent her soaring.
When it was all over and the climax crashed through their bodies, he held her against him, heart beating unsteadily, skin coated with a thin layer of sweat.
Now he was watching her sleep, curled up against him. Nothing had ever been so potent. She had sliced him open when she lashed at him before and left him bleeding from many cuts. And caused him to spend an inordinate amount of time mulling over his own carelessness with women in the past.
His only stipulation was he never ever slept with a married woman. Quite a few had whispered seductively in his ears, had tried to persuade him to sway from his conviction, but he had held fast.
Oddly, he had believed even then in the sanctity of marriage and never wanted to be the one to destroy that.
Brushing back tendrils of hair clinging to her forehead, he couldn't help kissing her forehead. She was curled up against him, her naked curves pressing into his flesh and it felt right. He wanted to marry her. Make her his wife.
His expression turned bleak. She had mentioned something about almost dying when she was giving birth to their daughter and he would ask her about that. He would have wanted more children with her, but he would never risk her life. Zoe was going to be an only child.
It was good that it was not on him to produce an heir. Tucking a thick strand of hair behind her ear, he allowed his touch to linger. He had worn her out, he thought whimsically.
She wanted to take a chance with him and for that, he was grateful. He had hurt her in so many ways, but he was going to make up for it. If she wanted to go on dates, he was open to it. And wondered if she knew exactly what she was opening herself up to.
His expression darkened. The press would be brutal. They would bring up the incident in Italy with Sophia. He had done enough damage there and didn't want the wound opening up again. Neither did he want Abigail subject to their damn speculations.
His hand fisted. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. He had done the deed, which meant paying the price. He just didn't relish the idea of putting the woman he loved and his daughter through any of it.
Wrapping around her, he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
*****
He wasn't there when she woke up. Her eyes flew open as sunlight streamed through the emerald, green drapes. Sitting up, she automatically gripped the sheets to cover herself and tried not to acknowledge the disappointment and keen sense of loss.
It was for the best, anyway. He had spent the night and that should not have happened. He had changed his mind about them being together. She was having second thoughts herself.
Sliding off the bed, she went into the bathroom to relieve herself and wash her face. A glimpse at her reflection in the mirror had her hand flying to her mouth. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her lips were swollen as if stung by bees. There were marks on her neck and her breasts.
"Good God." She breathed. Gripping the edge of the sink, she doubled over and started laughing. She had been about to simply brush her teeth and wash her face, but the scent of sex was overpowering. A shower was in order.
Sidestepping the claw-footed bath in the middle of the glossy green and white tiles, she stepped into the large shower installation and adjusted the spray. She needed coffee, as much as she needed her last breath. She would make herself something to eat and make her way to her grandmother's.
She was still feeling the aftereffects of the allergies, and the sex marathon last night had her feeling weak at the knees.
Refusing to think about it or the sudden longing for him, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a pair of black leggings and an old charcoal sweater. Her hair was another matter. Sighing gustily, she dragged the brush through the tangles, wincing as it tugged at her scalp.
Piling it on top of her head, she secured it with pins and slipped her feet into a pair of mules and headed downstairs. The scent of coffee hit her nostrils and had her salivating. At least he had made the brew before he left.
She was inside the arch that separated the kitchen from the living room, when she saw him. Her heart took a long and slow dive as she stared at him. He was wearing the clothes he had on yesterday. His long fingers were wrapped around a cup and he was staring out the window.
Sensing her presence, he turned. The slow look of pleasure and desire he gave her had her knees going weak. Would she ever get used to how gorgeous he was? She doubted that.
"I thought you'd left."
"Without saying goodbye? Hardly." She had to force herself not to fling herself in his arms. Putting the cup down, he stepped towards her and wrapped his arms around her.
"Good morning. You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't have the heart to wake you.
" He tilted her chin up and nuzzled her lips. "You snore."
"I do not."
His charming grin had heat spreading. "I was the one who had to listen. I don't mind. It's a welcoming sound, one I look forward to hearing every morning for the rest of my life."
Her knees buckled and she knew she would have fallen if he had not held her so tight.
"You cannot say that to me." She whispered.
"I intend to say that and more." He kissed her deeply, melting her bones. With a sigh, her arms came around his neck as she went on her toes to meet his mouth.
"I keep forgetting how tiny you are." Lifting her in his arms, he deposited her on a stool. "I made Spanish omelet."
"You cook."
"Hmm." He enjoyed touching her so much, he had to do it again. "You smell like raspberry."
"I took a shower."
"If I'd known, I would have joined you." He kissed the top of her head.
"Sit. Let me serve you." He nudged her over to the counter to one of the bar stools.
"Cade."
"Hmm?" He was busy pouring coffee into a bright blue mug. "I don't know how you take it."
"One cream, one sugar." She straightened her shoulders.
"I see I'm going to have to educate you on the merits of not doctoring a perfect brew." He placed the cup in front of her and turned to rescue the omelet.
"Toast?"
"Yes. Thanks." She was nervous. Upstairs, she had been disappointed that he had left. Now, she was uncertain how to react. He was in her kitchen, cooking her breakfast. And had spent most of last night driving her to insanity. She could still feel his mouth on her body.
"It's not going to work."
Ignoring the ice that slid through him at her words, he passed her the plate.
"Of course it will."
"We're different." Pushing the plate aside, she picked up the cup and knew it was a prop.
Her throat felt closed off and dry as dust. "You're, you're..." She waved a hand helplessly.
"I'm not your usual type and at the risk of raising your ire, I think you're doing this to ensure that you're part of your daughter's life. "
The ice turned to fury and pain in a heartbeat. Steadying himself, he poured more coffee into his cup and kept his back to her.
"Let me see if I understand this." He strode over to sit across from her, his face like flint. "I made love to you, declared my love for you all because I want to make you hand over my daughter. Did I get it right?"
She had the grace to be ashamed.
"You're mad."
"What gave it away?" He asked tightly. "Do you want me on my knees Abigail?" Putting the cup down, he slid off the stool and to her shock and distress, went on his knees. "What else? Want me to grovel?" Bitterness rose and spilled over into his voice.
"Stop it!" Putting her cup down, she rushed around to kneel in front of him. "Please."
"What can I do? Tell me, damn you. What can I do?"
With tears streaming down her cheeks, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face on his shoulder.