Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(72)

“But I don’t think I can fight my brother again,” I said softly.

“Of course,” she said, the words tumbling out. “That is ludicrous,” she added, placing her free hand on my cheek, adding pressure, so I’d have to meet her eyes. I turned into her palm and placed a prolonged kiss there.

“Cain?” she questioned quietly. “You can’t do this again.”

“He’s determined that I get it right. That we fight as if we should. As if it’s destiny. And I must win. I must prove I am the stronger brother.” I spoke between kisses I placed in her palm then began to trace down her wrist.

“You can’t do this,” she pleaded softly.

“I don’t have a choice,” I whispered. “I’d do anything for you.”

She pulled back, but I didn’t let her retreat. My mouth was on hers, where it longed to be. I savored those lips like I sucked the blood from her finger. I was drawing her into me, sealing us together, forcing her attention on us. I needed inside her. I needed to seal our fates deeper.

A determined hand lifted her t-shirt, but she stopped me.

“What is this?” I snapped. Sofie’s hands were on my wrists, working as a counterforce to the attempts to disrobe her and have her against the counter. “Why are you stopping me? Don’t you want me?” I growled in panic.

“No,” she laughed without humor.

“No, you don’t want me?” I bit, gently pulling back from her. She flinched at my sudden movement.

“Why are you so jumpy? I’d never hurt you, Sofie. Never.”

“I…I don’t know,” she stammered, her eyes dropping from mine. “I’m not sure what to think,” she stated sheepishly, looking away from me.

“Think about what?” I started. “Abel? I’m going to talk to him. We’ll figure something out.”

“Not Abel,” she spoke quietly. My hand came to her chin, demanding she look at me. My heart raced with fear. My eyes commanded her to speak.

“Us,” she said.

“Us?” I choked “What about us?”

“Just that…what are we doing?” she blurted.

“We’re…we’re not doing anything,” I responded, surprise in my tone. What I wanted to be doing was her against this counter, then upstairs in our bed.

She sighed deeply, raising her hands to gently push me back from her. I wasn’t having it.

“Hey,” I bit softly, gently tightening my hold on her. She was breathing heavier, her heart beginning to hammer. I wasn’t allowing her flight response, so Sofie was gearing up to fight. The back and forth between us was draining, but invigorating. She was sexy as holy f*ck when her eyes gleamed in growing anger at me.

“What are you thinking?” My eyes narrowed at her. My own heart threatened to choke me.

“I just thought … after what I said … you might want to … you might reconsider …”

I stiffened, drawing back from her. My hand went to the nape of her neck, and I noticed her head flinch at the pressure. What did she say? She told me she loved me last night. Did she not mean it? Were those words in the moment?

“Reconsider divorcing?” I questioned, the words staggering out of my throat on a deep growl.

“Well, after last night … I thought … maybe …”

My eyes opened wide in disbelief.

“You thought,” I paused, uncertain of her mind’s process. “You thought I had a one-night stand? With my wife?” My voice rose enough that she cringed visibly. Practically grunting in her face, her eyes blinked from my breath slapping her. This was ludicrous, I thought with a bitter laugh.

My hand released its hold on her hair and slipped to her wrist. I tugged her forward, prepared to drag her to the dining room, if I had to. Yanking open the top drawer of the sideboard, I pulled out the infamous blue envelope. My heart raced with agitation. Slapping it down on the table, I struggled to move two dining chairs out of my way. I was ending this discussion once and for all.

“Get on the table,” I commanded, forcing her back with a tender hand pressed on her stomach. I was calm, but my voice was firm. She needed to do as I said.

“Cain,” she attempted, but the pressure of my fingers below her breasts warned her not to argue. I had her wedged against the table, before I lifted her to sit on the papers.

“What the f*ck?” she blurted, surprising me. I was hiking up her skirt, which forced her to lose her balance and brace back on her hands. She squirmed a little, forcing her knees to close, but I was too quick. My expression must have shown her I wasn’t playing around. I dared her to swear at me again; it would only further turn me on. This was the snake, ready to strike, and she needed to stay very still.

Her knees were opened by the width of my hips. Her ankles were forced upward, and she fell back from the pressure. Her arms collapsed and she braced on her elbows against the table. I dragged her by her hips to the edge and bunched her skirt at her waist. Her panties were removed in an instant.

“Cain,” she snapped, in a weak attempt to deter me, or gain my attention, or warn me. It didn’t matter. I was no longer listening. I didn’t want to hear any more words. I wanted to prove to her, once and for all, how I felt about her and the f*cking idea of divorce.