Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(74)

Cain set me on the bed, but he walked away immediately, entering his large bathroom. I heard the water fall within the tub, and I closed my eyes, my body still shaking enough that I didn’t trust my own movement. I didn’t know what to think after our night together. He hadn’t returned the words, and in sexual remorse, I worried he slept with me out of sympathy. Tears and kind words spurred him onward, which didn’t seem like Cain, but my head spun when I thought of him. Was this still a game to spite his father?

Within seconds, he was before me. We didn’t speak as he removed my t-shirt, then helped me to stand and slipped my skirt over my hips. He was tender in his attention. Taking his time as he removed each article of clothing, rubbing down my skin as if trying to calm a frightened pet or soothe a shaken child. The ministration was numbing.

There was no doubt my body was drawn to him, and I was so tired of fighting the attraction. I needed those moments of connection to rest my mind of its constant battle to reconcile that someone close to Cain had killed people close to me. Kursch had to have his reasons and those reasons inevitably related back to Atom. I only wished that I knew what the hold over Kursch could have been to murder an innocent woman and her gambling husband. But Cain’s attention to my body, the gentle fingertips tracing over my skin, drew my concentration away from those concerns. This was why I needed him, or at least his body. He was a great temptation, pulling me to him, and I gave in each time he called out to me. My heart stepped in, and reminded me, I longed for more truth than just the connection of our bodies.

I stood before him fully unclothed. His fingers trace down each arm, then wrap around my wrists as he led me toward the bathroom. He’d dimmed the lights then helped me enter the giant tub. Jets pulsed gently, circulating the water that bubbled. No words were spoken as he guided me to sit. I watched him for a moment, my eyes focusing on his face. His expression showed he was deep in concentration. His jaw ticked. His eyes still dark from his demonstration on the table below. He leaned forward to kiss my shoulder, then turned to exit the room.

Instantly, tears filled my eyes. My understanding of what happened was cloudy, but his statement seemed clear. He didn’t wish to divorce. My question was why he wanted to remain married? What did it prove? Was it simply a way to stick it to his father? A statement to say he could do what he wanted. A testament of doing the opposite of what his father asked. Without saying the words, I wasn’t convinced love was his driving force to remain together. I slunk down into the warmth that surrounded me, and let my head fall to the side, a hand covering my eyes. I didn’t want to believe it was true; that he was using me to get to his father.

What do I f*cking want? He bit downstairs. I wanted his love; it was that simple. Yet, I sensed for Cain; that was very difficult. Love seemed foreign, warped almost, to him. It was also something I couldn’t explain to him. Something I couldn’t ask of him. He had to define it for himself. He had to give it to me, willingly.

A tear slid down my face and I wiped at it briskly. Besides his lack of love, there were so many obstacles to being with Cain. The only way he could be with me was to fight his brother. Atom Callahan was a sick, tortured man. Maybe hate was a comfort, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around such an idea. Too much blood had already been spilled between our families. These thoughts filled me as I watched my own blood twist and curl in the kitchen sink. My blood had been spilled by his family metaphorically, and I marveled at the reality. How much more blood did Atom want? How deep was his hatred of his own children that he took pleasure in pitting them against one another?

And what of my grandparents? Were they really safe? Cain would protect them out of obligation to me, but I didn’t want him beholden. Those thoughts raced through my mind as I stood in the kitchen earlier, cutting an apple in half. I didn’t feel I could ever fully call this place my home. The only reason I was present in this house was because of circumstances beyond my control: the threat of Atom.

Breaking into my meandering mind, Cain entered the bathroom with a glass of red wine. He set it on the edge of the tub then pulled off his shirt. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, a slight curl to his lips; the start of a slow sexy smile. Gone was the questioning expression of concern from minutes ago. Gone was the aggressive form of his face from the performance below. He knelt next to the tub and scooped up water to wet my hair. Gently pressing me to lean forward, he covered my hair with more water. I closed my eyes and heard the flick of a cap from shampoo. My head was massaged as the lather grew under thick fingertips. My scalp tingled with the sensation. One of life’s greatest pleasure had to be someone else washing your hair. I sighed.

“You like that?” he asked behind me and my eyes flipped open. I nodded in response, but it was lost to the attention he showed my hair. Water gently cascaded over me. I could only assume he was using a small pitcher for rinsing. Content that I was clean of suds, his hands on my shoulders nudged me to twist around to my original position. I relaxed against the back of the tub.

“Feel better?” he asked, as a finger dragged a small pile of bubbles across the top of the vibrating water.

I sighed softly. His arm disappeared under water and made contact with my arm. Once even with my breast, he jumped attention to circle my nipple, already erect and tight under the surface. He pinched it then cupped the weight of me in his hand.

“You are so beautiful,” he said quietly, his voice almost shaking. “God made women in your image.”