Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(26)
The state of my rooms was something out of a mafia movie. To say the space was trashed was an understatement. Papers, books, and writing utensils were everywhere. My couch cushions tossed and torn. My bed slashed down the middle. Blankets destroyed. The kitchen fared no better. It looked as if someone opened the small selection of cabinets and simply swiped within them, emptying the contents to the floor.
I had no idea who could have done such a thing, nor could I predict why I was the one targeted. In a building complex with thirty or so apartments, mine was the only one hit. I was on the third floor. It appeared they entered through the cracked window that Cain had warned me about, despite there being no direct access. The images made me tremble. What if I’d been home? The thought only occurred to me when I called Lucie. If I’d been home, I would have been killed, I had no doubt. The fear rumbled through me like an earthquake.
My hand slid over the emptiness of the bed around me, and I heard the thumping sound again. Not wanting to be alone with my thoughts, I remembered I was in a spare room at Cain’s home. Our home, he’d said last night. He’d purchased this house, for me. I couldn’t think about that, though. I needed a change of clothes and a shower.
In search of Cain or the thumping noise, whichever came first, I left the room and quietly made my way down the hall to the stairs. After searching all the rooms on the lower level, I decided to step outside. The noise increased and I noticed a three-car garage with one panel door open. Hesitantly approaching, I saw Cain inside the open space, punching the ever-loving daylights out of a ball hanging from the ceiling. It hardly had time to right itself before it was pulverized upward in a steady stream of vibration.
Calling his name, he didn’t hear me over the thudding noise. I stepped closer, trying to warn him of my approach, but his concentration was fixated on the motion of his body. I gently touched his shoulder blade. It was a mistake. He rounded on me with fist raised and braced for a fight. His chest rose and fell exaggeratedly from the exercise. Frozen by the glare of hatred in his eyes, I held my ground. It took seconds before I cowered in fear that he might strike me. Within an additional second, I was enveloped against him, my breasts crushed against the hard form of his chest, feeling the effort of his breathing.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he breathed, tugging me tighter to his sweaty body. My arms were limp at my sides at first, but slowly I bent my elbows and placed my hands on his hips. The heat of his skin under my trembling fingers caused a physical reaction of epic proportions. While I shouldn’t have been turned on by his sweating body, his exaggerated breathing, and his stalled attempt to strike me, I was intoxicated with the scent of him surrounding me. My tongue snaked out to lick the side of his neck, tasting the sweet saltiness of his aggressive workout. I don’t know what possessed me, other than the nearness of him.
“Sofie,” he breathed my name, as I attempted a second lick-suck of his skin. His warm mouth found my neck, as well, and he tenderly bit me. The strike was brief, the effect instantaneous. I drew back in search of his mouth, already willing and waiting, as we entangled our tongues and inhaled one another. His gloved hands moved to my lower back, while my hands slid up his toned chest. Eventually encircling his neck with my hands, he hoisted me upward with his gloved fists and my body reacted by wrapping around him.
I couldn’t get enough of his tongue. I needed the sting. I had to feel connected, whole, anything other than the trembling fear of violation from the break-in. His mouth was equally forceful over mine, and the moans echoed off the hollowness of the surrounding garage.
“Inside,” he hissed. Taking his meaning to be that he wanted us to go in the house, I loosened my hold on him to allow him freedom to walk. Instead, he spun me and I was seated on some ledge. He was struggling to get his gloves off behind my back as his mouth refused to release mine. Attempting to pull back, his teeth clamped on my lip.
“No,” he moaned, before my mouth opened again for him and our tongues began to coil. Eventually in need of air, I gently pushed back against his chest. He still fumbled behind me with the gloves, and I broke free long enough to try to bring one wrist forward. In doing so, I was able to slowly untie the strings that held the glove bound to his fist. We continued to breathe in sporadic rhythm, but I was slowing the pace by taking my time to disrobe his hands of their coverings. The weight of hooded eyes on me stretched the seconds as I unlaced and removed one large hand.
“Let me touch you,” he exhaled, “Please.”
Without answering, I raised his freed hand to cover my breast, which he instantly massaged. Puckering the nipple to a ripe peak, he pinched me over bra and t-shirt. I arched into his touch; it wasn’t going to be enough.
“So f*cking beautiful,” he groaned. “I need inside.”
“We can go to the house,” I replied innocently. I wasn’t certain how far I could really go with him, but I burned with desire to connect.
“No,” he growled. “Inside you.”
My fingers paused for a moment on the ties of his right hand, my eyes wandering up the inked cobra design, twisting over and around his arm. I wasn’t ignoring his words; I just needed a second to decide if I could do this again with him. I’d divorced the man after not knowing I was married to him, and yet I was willing to have sex with him? The question brought another thing to light. The name Malinda flashed through my mind.
“Sofie?” he questioned. My silence might have lasted longer than I thought. I removed his second glove and his hands fell to my thighs. Rubbing eagerly, possibly in an attempt to regain the momentum of where we were headed a moment before, I placed my hands over his to stop him. My heart dropped to my stomach as I craved his kiss, but it wasn’t going to be enough. I was done pretending with Cain Callahan.