18. 18
Isettle into the seat across from Cady.
It’s a small jet, with only room for six, plus the pilots and the flight attendant, Clara. Usually, my father is the only passenger, which is why Clara is so excited when Cady climbs aboard.
A big part of me had been convinced Cady wasn’t going to show. That I’d go to pick her up and have her give me a litany of excuses for why she wasn’t coming. And I would have let her go without an argument because I don’t need a date out of obligation.
I want to make sure Cady wants to be here.
But that big part of me was so convinced, I sent a car to get her and met her at the airport where the Sandflower jet waited. I would rather she give her excuses to the driver rather than myself.
This woman has been tightening her screws into me since I first laid eyes on her and she has no idea what she’s doing to me.
Maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing.
But I don’t think she does.
With a soft sigh, she turns her amber gaze to me. “You regretting this yet?” I ask.
“Should I be?”
“I hope not.” I motion to the table behind her. “There’s a plug if you need to charge anything.”
Cady shakes her head with a bemused expression. “I didn’t bring anything that needs charging. My assistant confiscated my laptop, plus my phone.”
“Seriously? I like this assistant.”
“I think she might be a fan of yours, too. She was impressed with you getting me to go away.”
“I do my best. Did she take your phone?”
Cady nods. “I’m already getting twitchy.”
“Let me know if the withdrawal gets too bad and I’ll let you log on to mine, at least so you can check social media.”
“I don’t do much on social media,” she admits. “And especially not today. It’ll be all about Noam. It was on TV.”
“He was a big man in the business world. Any word from his family, or have they stopped casting you as the villain?”
She blows out an exhale, so uncharacteristic that I sit up with alarm. “I honestly thought Preston Tate would find a way to charge me for his father’s death,” she says simply.
“But you didn’t…” For one horrible moment, I’m hit with the realization that I know nothing about this woman, yet I’ve not only given her an alibi, but I also might be harbouring a criminal.
And then it passes because, while I have no doubt Cady Quinn is capable of committing such a crime, I saw her face when that policeman asked about Tate, and I don’t think the woman is that good of an actress.
She didn’t kill him, and I believe he was alive when she left the room. And I’m sticking with that.
“You didn’t,” I finish in a firm voice.
“That’s a lot of faith in a woman you barely know.”
“I know that you wouldn’t let me step foot out of that store in that hot pink shirt, so that says a lot to me.” Her laugh is like seeing the sun after days of storms. “What is this Preston dude’s problem?” I ask.
“The last thing he is, is a dude. He’s a…”
“Asshole?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“He came on to you, didn’t he?”
“How did you know?”
I flick my hand. “Look at you. Who wouldn’t come on to you?”
She huffs a smile. “He did give it a good shot. And failed to catch my interest because he’s an asshole.”
Clara arrives with a tray of champagne flutes and a bowl of almonds for me. I take both and hand one to Cady. “What’s a good shot?”
“You mean what Preston did? Tried?”
“Sure. I’ll use that as a what-not-to-do.”
“Another what-not-to-do is spy on me in the changing room.”
I wag a finger at her. “Aha! You took the first look, and there was no spying from me. I was just standing there. Hoping, maybe, you might forget to close the curtain. And then—hey!” Cady tries to hide her smile behind the rim of her glass. “So? How did he shoot his shot?”
“First strike was that he used his father. I had several conversations with Noam about Pres, about what a good man he was, how any woman would be lucky to catch him. One time, he guilted me into going out with him.”
“Ah, so you gave him a shot. Softie,” I chide.
“Idiot,” she corrects. “I agreed to a drink; he arranged a private table at Noreen’s. Another one of Noam’s restaurants. He named them after his wives. Not only did he use his father’s name to get the place, but he also raided his personal wine cellar. It was a nice wine,” she muses.
“Bit overkill, but what went wrong?”
“I sat down; he made some cheesy toast. And then he leans over the table and announces that he never leaves a woman unsatisfied.”
The way her amber eyes twinkle makes me wonder if she’s teasing. “But I say that…”
She holds up a hand. “When I asked him how he satisfies them, his response was that he fucked them into submission. That they had no energy to complain.”
I frown. “That doesn’t seem—that seems painful.”
“It was. Not that I let him anywhere near me. I went along with it and pretended to be impressed, and asked him what his idea of foreplay was.”
“Please tell me you recorded this.”
Cady shakes her head. “I’ve blocked most of, but the gist was he had no clue how to satisfy a woman with foreplay or straight fucking.”
My gaze drops to Cady’s mouth as she says the word. There’s something about a woman who says fucking like it’s a sport.
I bet Cady is Olympic-medal-worthy at fucking. Not because of any past, but because a woman who holds herself with as much confidence as Cady does must know exactly what she wants in a lover and be prepared to tell him.
My balls tighten at the thought of Cady with a lover. Me being that lover.
“Ask me,” I suggest.
“Ask you what?”
“What my idea of foreplay is?”
Cady shifts in the leather armchair and crosses her legs. “This should be good,” she murmurs, gesturing to me with her champagne glass. “Go ahead. Wow me.”
“Oh, I would,” I promise. “But in the meantime, I’d start with kissing you.”
Her gaze drops to my lips. I take that as encouragement. “I’d start slow, let my mouth get to know yours. Soft, gentle. No tongue. Until I could feel you relax. Until you wanted more.”
Her mouth falls open just a bit. “How could you tell I wanted more?” Cady’s voice is low, hesitant.
“Your hands would start to wander, maybe fingers in my hair, pressing the back of my neck. Your hips would arch against me. Then I’d add some tongue.” I close my lips and run my finger along the slit a few times.
Cady watches me.
I slip my finger in my mouth for a moment before drawing it across my jaw and down my neck. “I really like kissing,” I continue. “It’s so intimate, so much more than simple fucking. That can be fun too, but when you want to impress with foreplay, kissing should play a big part in it.”
Did she just swallow? “What else?”
“Depends where we are. If I’m fortunate enough to be on a bed, I’ll start running my hands along her body. If we’re sitting, I’ll pull her into my lap, maybe to the side with her legs over mine, or I’ll get her to straddle me.” I rub my thighs, picturing Cady perched on my lap. I’d pull her close, grip that ass with both hands…
“Straddle,” she echoes.
I place both hands on my thighs, close to my cock but not touching. “So she can feel how much I want her.”
That was a swallow. “And then?”
I pause as I finish my champagne. “You seem very interested.”
“For comparison purposes only,” she says quickly, throwing her hair back.
Is Cady interested? I know I can talk a good game, and yes, sound as sexy as fuck, but I can’t tell with her. I’m an open-book, wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve type of guy, but Cady? She’s closed up tight.
I push away the question of what else might be tight. “If you’re comparing, I bet I’d come out on top.” I lean forward so she can hear my whisper. “But only if you want me that way. I’m good for any way.”
Cady presses her lips together and leans back. “You lost me there.”
“Too obvious?”
“Just a little.” But she smiles, the right side of those lips hitching up higher than the left. It’s a nice break from the perfection.
And most would say Cady is perfect in appearance. But looking closer, really studying, I can see the slight imperfections.
Her nose is just a bit crooked, those freckles—while I think they’re each a little beauty, some women do what they can to cover them up—sprinkle across the nose, more on the right side than left, and her ears are unusually large.
It’s good to focus on her ears instead of staring at her mouth. Because that is perfection—wide, pale pink, slight curve up with an upper lip fuller than the bottom.
I don’t want to start on her body because… wow. Just wow.
And now I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that body dance.