Ginger's Heart (A Modern Fairytale, #3)(8)
No.
No, no, no.
Not the princess.
Absolutely not.
Besides, his cousin had already staked a claim.
Cain yanked his arm away.
“Am I missin’ somethin’ here?” His heart beat like crazy as he stared down at her lovely face. “Hell, yes, I’m leavin’. I got plans.”
Her eyes, fiery and wild and practically begging him to stay, had never affected him before today, but now they made his insides flare with heat. She looked at him like he mattered, like she needed him, like all the happiness in her world was somehow bound to him, and it made a fierce longing, like he’d never experienced before, spring up within him.
Barely aware of his cousin clearing his throat meaningfully behind her, Cain’s eyes drifted to Ginger’s pink lips before he locked his gaze with hers.
Just a taste. One little taste won’t hurt anything.
“But before I go, since you’re such a young lady now, Miss Virginia, I guess I could give you a birthday kiss, huh?”
Shutting out every objection, he took a step toward her, drowning in the warm bourbon color of her eyes. Reaching up, he placed his hand—his rough, unworthy hand—against the soft skin of her cheek to steady her face and leaned toward her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she tilted her chin up. Her lips, full and lightly parted, beckoned him, but at the very last moment, common sense screamed NO NO NO so loudly, he changed course abruptly, letting his lips land safely on her other cheek instead.
He closed his eyes and rested there for a moment, his lips pressed against her sweet, sweet skin, his heart racing, his breath held painfully in his chest.
Finally he drew away, but his voice was hoarse in his ears as he whispered, “Happy birthday, lionhearted l’il gal.”
Then, before he could think better of it, and because he had zero interest in resting his thoughts on the confusing things happening in his body, head, and heart, he dropped his hand and walked away.
***
“You’re such a jerk, Cain Wolfram!” called Mary-Louise Walker, in a serious snit as Cain rounded the corner of the massive distillery and started across the high grass toward her.
Gesturing with her cigarette and wearing a frown, she sat on the low wall of an old stone gazebo in the Glenn River Distillery complex, which had been abandoned more than thirty years ago. It was against the law to trespass on the property, but every kid in Apple Valley knew a hundred ways to get in. Hell, Cain and Woodman had been exploring the bones of the old place since they were old enough to ride bikes.
“Why’m I a jerk, now, honey?” he asked, his cock stiffening as he got a closer look at her skin-tight jeans and even tighter white sweater.
She took a long drag on her cigarette and glared at him. “You said four. It’s almost five now, and it’s supercreepy here when the sun goes down. I shouldn’t’ve waited for you!”
“But you did, darlin’,” he drawled, giving her his sexiest grin as he made his way through the last of the overgrowth that separated them. Without asking her permission, he put his hands under her arms and pulled her up on her feet, jerking her against his chest.
She pouted prettily, arching her back so that her breasts pushed into him. “I’m a senior, you know.”
“The hottest one at school.”
She ignored this, taking another drag of her cigarette and exhaling over his shoulder. “And you’re only a sophomore, Cain.”
“Think of everythin’ you’re teachin’ me, sugar. You’re the best teacher I ever met, and I’m aimin’ to get straight A’s.”
“Maybe I should just make you walk me home,” she said as she dropped her cigarette to the ground and squished it with the toe of her dirty gray sneaker. “’Cause now I ain’t sure if I want to continue our . . . lessons.”
“Aw, c’mon, baby,” he cajoled, pushing her sweater away to bare her shoulder and press his lips to her warm skin. “Educate me. I’m beggin’ you.”
“Tell me where you were first,” she said, but her voice was gentler now, and she looped her arms around his neck, wanting more.
“Over at McHuid’s,” he murmured. He bit her gently, his teeth nabbing a pinch of her skin and holding for a moment before letting it go. She moaned softly, more and more like Jell-O in his arms.
“Didn’t know you moved in such—” Cain released her waist with one hand and slid his palm under her sweater, under her thin cotton bra, resting his bare hand against the fullness of her naked breast. “Mm! Cain!—in, um, such distinguished circles.”
Her nipple pebbled between his thumb and forefinger as he bit down on her shoulder again, then soothed her skin by licking and blowing, all the while rolling the stiff, hot nub between his digits. “Wasn’t invited to the festivities. Only went to see . . .”
“See who?” she asked in a breathy, distracted voice, her head falling back as he continued to tease her.
“The Prin—uh, my cousin.”
His second hand followed the first, burrowing under her sweater, under her bra, his palm covering the lush flesh of her other breast. Mary-Louise reached down for the hem of her sweater and flipped it over her head before reaching around to unlatch her bra in the front. She squared her shoulders and dropped her arms, and Cain watched the flimsy fabric slip down her arms, leaving her completely bare from the waist up.