8. Chapter 8 #2
I close the door. Lock it. Not because Lola might walk in. Because this is ours tonight.
Cassie is standing in the living room. Green dress. Hair down. Looking at me with those eyes.
“Come here,” she says.
I cross the room. I pull her against me and kiss her and the kiss tastes like the beginning of something real.
I undress her slowly. The green dress pools at her feet. She’s wearing a matching set. Black this time. Lace.
“You planned this,” I say.
“I didn’t know you were going to say you loved me in a bar,” she says. “I just like nice things.”
“You are a nice thing.”
“That’s the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Shut up and let me look at you.”
She stands in my living room in black lace and I look at her. Every piece of her. The woman who organized my chaos and challenged my fear and pressed send on the scary email before asking me to do the same.
I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me. I carry her to the bedroom.
I lay her down. I take my time. I kiss her throat. Her collarbone. The curve of her breast. I unclasp her bra and press my mouth to her nipple and she arches into me with a sound that goes straight through me.
I pull her panties down her legs. I kneel between her thighs and press my mouth against her and she grips the sheets.
“Cash.” My name. Breathless.
I taste her until she comes. Quiet and shaking and gripping my hair.
Then I strip off my clothes and settle over her and push inside her and we both go still.
“I love you,” I say. Inside her. Looking at her face. “I’m staying.”
“I know.” She wraps her arms around my neck. “I know you are.”
I move. Slow and deep. This is not the bathroom mirror. This is not the kitchen counter. This is the bed. This is real. This is us.
“You feel incredible,” I tell her. Against her ear.
Then I thrust deeper. She gasps. Her nails drag down my back.
“Cash.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
I thrust deeper.
“Again.”
“I love you, Cash Wylde.”
“Good girl.”
Her eyes close.
“No.” I kiss her. “Look at me.”
She opens them.
“That’s it.”
I keep my eyes on hers as I move.
“You’re mine,” I say quietly.
Her lips part.
“And before you start arguing, I’m yours too.”
That gets me the smile.
The one I wanted.
“Fair,” she breathes.
I kiss her.
“Tell me.”
“You’re mine.”
“Again.”
“You’re mine, Cash.”
“Damn right.”
She laughs, and the laugh breaks into a gasp when I change the angle.
I grip her hips and pull her tighter against me. The new angle is deeper. She arches off the bed and her hands fly to my shoulders.
“Oh God. Right there.”
“Right here?” I thrust again. Same angle. Watching her face. “This is where you want me?”
“Yes. Don’t stop.”
I don’t stop. I drive into her with a steady rhythm and her legs tighten around me and her breathing goes ragged and she’s gripping me like I’m the only solid thing in the room.
“Turn over,” I say.
Her eyes open. Dark. Dazed.
“What?”
“Turn over.” I pull out. She makes a sound at the loss. “On your knees, Cassie.”
She rolls over. Slowly. Looking at me over her shoulder as she rises onto her hands and knees. Her hair falls across her back. The curve of her spine. The arch of her hips. She’s looking at me with an expression that is equal parts trust and challenge.
“Like this?” she asks. And she arches her back.
“Exactly like that.”
I move behind her. My hands grip her hips. I lean down and press my mouth to the base of her spine. She shivers. I kiss up her back. Slowly. Vertebra by vertebra. My chest against her skin. My mouth at her ear.
“You have no idea what you look like right now,” I say. Low. Against her neck.
“Tell me.”
“Like everything I’ve ever wanted.”
I push into her from behind and she drops to her elbows. The sound she makes is low and raw and fills the room.
Deeper this way. So deep she presses her face into the pillow. I grip her hips and set the pace. Hard. Deliberate. Each thrust pulling a sound from her that she can’t control.
“Cash.” Muffled against the pillow. “Oh my God.”
“Let me hear you.” I fist her hair. Gently. Pull her head up from the pillow. “Don’t hide from me.”
She looks at me over her shoulder. Eyes half-closed. Mouth open. The most unguarded I’ve ever seen her.
“You’re so deep,” she breathes.
“Too much?”
“No.” She pushes back against me. Meeting me. “More.”
I give her more. I grip her hip with one hand and slide the other around her front, between her legs. She gasps when my fingers find her. I work her while I thrust and the dual sensation makes her whole body shake.
“I can feel you getting close,” I say. Because I can. The way she tightens around me. The way her breathing changes. “Come for me, Cassie. I want to feel it.”
“Cash. I’m… I can’t…”
“Yes you can.” I thrust harder. My fingers press. “Let go.”
Her whole body tightens around me. Her back arches and she cries out my name and the sound of it destroys whatever was left of my control. I grip her hips with both hands and thrust deep one final time and come inside her with a groan that starts in my chest and ends against her skin.
We collapse. Her face in the pillow. Me draped over her back. Both of us breathing like we just ran the length of the ranch.
I press my mouth to her shoulder blade. Her skin is damp. She smells like us. Like something new.
“Cash?”
“Yeah.”
“That was not in any plan I’ve ever made.”
“Good.”
I roll us onto our sides. Pull her back against my chest. Hold her.
We lie on the bed. Sheets tangled. Breathing. The cabin is dark except for the light from the kitchen.
“I want to come home to this.” She traces a circle on my chest. “After work. After the bookstore. After the festival in September. I want to come home to you.”
“Then come home.”
“I need a drawer.”
“You can have every drawer.”
“I need shelf space.”
“I’ll build you shelves.”
“I need you to stop putting socks on the lamp.”
“Oops. That’s non-negotiable.”
She laughs against my chest. The sound fills the cabin the way her laughter always fills a space. Like it’s surprised to be there but glad it came.
Outside, the ranch is quiet. The horses are sleeping. Birdie is standing guard. Somewhere in the main house, Lola is dreaming about horses and crayons and the woman who reads to her in voices.
I hold the woman who chose me. The years of drifting are over. Tomorrow, I start building.
I’m not chasing eight seconds anymore.
I’m building something that lasts.