Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(8)

“You look tired,” she said softly, her tone the sound of concern. I was tired. The last year had been hell for more reasons than one. She was reason number one.

“So do you,” I tried to tease lightly.

“I am,” she sighed. She returned the glass to the stand and smoothed her other hand over the sheet covering her.

“It’s early. Why don’t you lay back down?”

“What time is it?”

“Not even four. Lay back. Just rest longer,” I encouraged. I had to meet my father soon. There were things to be said. I also needed to speak with Abel. We’d talked the night before, but the new day held new concerns. Sofie was in my room. I had to figure out what to do next.

To my surprise, Sofie did lay back. She pulled the sheet up over her shoulder as she twisted away from me. Her back blocked out the low stream of light seeping through the thin opening in the curtains. She also was blocking out me.





I’d fallen back asleep, only to awake and find Cain facing me on the bed. I was still under the cover of a sheet, naked except for my underwear. He was over the blanket, and I had to giggle internally at the reversal of our roles. The first night we met, I stayed with him. He was too drunk to function after too much of Grandpa’s Passion and he’d passed out. Afraid that he’d choke on his own vomit, I rolled him to his side then wrapped myself around him. He wasn’t conscious of my presence, and eventually, I’d stayed the night, on top of the covers. We’d only kissed. He didn’t touch me in any other manner. To his surprise, and mine, he hadn’t remembered the night.

I was in that position currently. I remembered dancing and drinking, which caused my stomach to roil, but I couldn’t remember anything else. Had we talked? What did I possibly say? What did I do? I couldn’t believe I’d done anything. I’d already shamed myself in the hall outside his changing room. I didn’t feel any further violated. I didn’t want to believe he would take additional advantage of me.

Staring at his closed eyes, shut off from the world, without the cold, hard glare, his face seemed younger. He appeared closer to the twenty-four-year-old boy he was than the tough man he portrayed. His hair was shorn close to his head, black as night in color. His face was round but edged. A t-shirt covered his chest, but I knew a large cobra tattoo was painted across it and swirled down his right arm. Large hands matched the large body, the bulk of which was enlarged muscles for fighting. Our first conversation involved another body part of his, which I also had firsthand knowledge was large as well. I didn’t like to imagine the feel of that thick length in my hand, between my legs, or inside of me. The visions were only allowed in desperation to ease the edge over the last year. Having him this close to me was surreal. It wasn’t so much excitement as an anxious anticipation. Would he touch me again? Would he want to have sex one more time?

These were crazy thoughts. I hated him. I shouldn’t want his penis anywhere near me, let alone be in this bed, this room, and this resort with him. He shouldn’t even be in my head, but that’s where he’d been for almost a year. Cain Callahan slithered his way into my brain with his tempting body, and then froze my heart with hypnotic words. I couldn’t trust him, and his asking me to had been unacceptable. I wouldn’t consider believing a word he said to me, including his warning against his father.

I continued to stare at him. I didn’t know this man, yet the attraction to him had been almost instantaneous. I knew better than to mix with any of the patrons of my grandparents’ winery retreat. Most were there for a scandal. He had been no different. Escaping the law was what I first assumed after he left me. He’d killed a man. That was all I knew of him. Yet, I felt like I had known him for much more than that.

My hand reached hesitantly toward him. I hadn’t crossed the full distance before his hand struck out and gripped my wrist. His eyes opened instantly. Dark orbs of black pierced mine before they softened. Our connection hovered in mid-air before he slowly lowered us to the bed. He didn’t try to hold my hand; his fingers simply covered my wrist. We stared at one another for several minutes.

“You finally slept,” I said weakly, attempting to break some of the tension. He didn’t answer at first.

“What time is it?” he asked, and I twisted to look over my shoulder at the nightstand. He hadn’t released my wrist and I couldn’t view the clock. Turning back to him, I noticed his watch. He had the answer.

“I need to go see my father,” he stated.

Uncertain how to respond, I muttered, “I need to go to my room.”

“Stay here until I return. Then I’ll take you home.”

“Home?” I laughed nervously, ignoring his demanding tone. “That’s in California.”

He didn’t reply so I clarified, “I need a change of clothes.”

“I told you, your things would be brought here.” He nodded in the direction of the corner. I didn’t have to look to see that my bag most likely was within the room.

“I guess I should get up and dress?” I questioned before I gently tugged my wrist free of his grasp. He released me, but I didn’t move away from him. I took the risk and forced my shaky fingers to reach out again for his face. He remained perfectly still, as if holding his breath. His eyes focused on mine while I traced down the side of his cheek. He had a cut where his brother had hit him. He still looked tired and his eyes closed, only briefly, as the pads of my fingertips absorbed the light scruff of his jaw. Wishing to outline his lips, I reconsidered. That would have been too much.