Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(64)

His mouth pops open, ever so slightly, and I watch the tip of his tongue dart out over his lips. “Fuck.”

And then I get to watch him come apart. Watch him give in. And it feels like winning.

His cock jerks and pulses in my mouth, and I swallow as it does. I keep my eyes on his face, even when his flutter shut. Even when his hands go soft in my hair and switch from gripping to stroking. To gentle touches.

When his eyes flick open again, I draw away, feeling him soften and hearing his breathing even out.

“Christ, Willa,” he breathes as he pulls his pants back up and I wipe at my lips.

He crouches down, lifting me up with him, and crushes his mouth against mine, clearly not caring about where it’s been. Because the kiss is searing. Heartfelt. His lips are soft against mine, and when I tangle my hands behind his neck, I can feel a damp layer of perspiration.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against my lips.

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I think I had almost as good of a time as you.” I chuckle quietly, feeling his breath against my damp lips.

His forehead rolls along mine. “No. I’m sorry I let you go out tonight.”

My eyes roll, but neither of us moves. Still standing out in the open on the front porch. Still trailing our hands over each other. “You don’t let me do anything, Eaton.” I arch a brow at him, and he pulls me into a hug, his steely arms wrapping me up tight.

And it feels so damn good.

“I’m sorry I didn’t beg you to come home with me.”

I nuzzle against him, thriving on that specific type of apology. “You do beg well,” I joke.

He turns his head and presses a kiss into the crook of my neck. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Welcome to my life,” I joke again, trying to lighten the mood or just quell the slight pang of discomfort.

Cade squeezes me tighter and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cross this line with you. That I wouldn’t complicate things. That I wouldn’t tangle us up like this when you’re leaving so soon.”

A pit forms in the bottom of my stomach, and insecurities leap like fish out of water, because standing in his arms doesn’t feel cozy. It feels like a cage. It feels like an apology. And all my walls shoot back up. I felt like a goddess two minutes ago, and now, there’s a sense of dread creeping in.

I pull away, giving him a flat smile and sort of patting at his shoulders. “Well, let’s just not complicate it.”

He gives his head a little shake, seeming surprised by my response. I turn and walk toward the front door.

Am I being dramatic? Maybe. Probably. But my pride can only take so many hits where Cade Eaton is concerned. He can only turn me down so many times or make excuses about why this can’t happen before I take it personally.

Complicated.

I think the only thing making this complicated is him.

Once I reach the privacy of my bedroom, I shut the door and step into the space, sucking in a big breath.

Flicking the bedside light on, I let my mind wander to stupid Cade Eaton. Big-dicked, strong-biceped, fucking handsome-faced, complicated asshole that he is.

The door bursts open behind me. I turn and see Cade standing there, hands fisted at his sides, in unbuttoned jeans and still no goddamn shirt, which is really just the cruelest kind of joke. His shoulders take up almost the entire doorframe, and his expression is one I recognize as his angry scowl.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he barks out.

I sniff and look away because he’s intimidating right now. “Making sure things don’t get too complicated for you. Obviously.”

“Woman.” He always sounds so snarky when he calls me woman. “Are you insane? You think I went three years without laying my hand on a single person to break my streak with one as exceptional as you and then let you just walk away?”

Three years?

“I—”

“No.” He holds up a hand. “I’m going to talk. And you’re going to close your mouth and listen. Because if you’d let me finish what I was saying out there, you wouldn’t have spent a single moment in here thinking I don’t want to complicate things with you. I said I promised myself I wouldn’t complicate this with you. You’re young, you’re restless, and I’m truthfully too fucking jealous to do anything casual with you.” He runs a hand through his hair, giving the ends a frustrated little tug. “I’ve watched you with my son. I’ve watched you, period. I’ve longed for you. I went crazy tonight thinking of you out with Lance. I know in my bones that I won’t want to let you go at the end of the summer, but I’ll take what I can get. Because you’re too fucking special to pass up. Fuck my promises, that’s what I was going to say.”

My throat tightens as he stares down at that brass line separating my space from his. Arbitrary and yet, symbolic. Like when we cross that line we’re not going back.

“I . . .”

He holds a hand up again. “No. I don’t want to talk anymore. Unless it’s to hear you explain why you think I’d let you suck me off and then not return the favor. What kind of assholes you been dating, Red?”

My lips roll together as I watch him cross that line into my space.