The Summer He Came Home (14 page)

The thought that anyone could hurt her or Michael filled him with such rage, he wasn’t sure he could speak. To think this little guy had seen such violence against his mother made him sick, and to think of Maggie on the receiving end left him feeling weak. So he took a few moments. Envisioned his fist connected with the slimy coward’s face many times over. It might not be the right thing to do, but it sure as hell made him feel better.

“That won’t happen.”

“Promise?” Michael whispered.

“Yeah.” His chest welled with the hot flush of emotion inside him. “I promise.”

What the hell was he doing? Cain knew he was about to cross a line, but he didn’t care. Maybe he should. Who the hell was he to be promising her kid that everything would be all right? He ignored the inner voice of reason. The one that months, or even weeks, earlier would have been enough to send him packing.

Cain nodded toward the fire. “How ’bout some marshmallows?”

“What are you doing, Cain?” His mother’s tone was sharp, and he knew that he was most likely in for it. She’d been dying to get him alone ever since she arrived and found Maggie and her son at the cottage. He glanced back toward the lake, but it was hidden by the dense grouping of birch trees that lined the driveway next to the cottage.

It was late. Michael was asleep, curled up near the fire in a large comforter he’d found inside the cottage. Mac had returned, dropped off by a taxi, and he’d crashed in the back bedroom almost immediately. A quick, slurred “Hey” and he’d disappeared.

He’d left Maggie by the fire too, and he thought of her there, with the moon low across the water, a breeze in her hair, and the glow of the embers reflecting on her skin. Things had changed between them today. Their connection. It wasn’t subtle. It was potent, and he knew she felt it as deeply as he did. Anticipation sat in his gut, twisted his insides so badly he was short of breath.

He wanted to hold her—make love to her—protect her with a ferocity that he’d never felt before.

“Cain? Did you hear me? Are you all right?”

He turned back to his mother. “I’m good.” His arms crept round her shoulders, and he kissed her solidly on the cheek, a grin softening his face. “Really good.”

Lauren stared up at him, a frown marring the perfectly arched eyebrows and darkening her eyes. “So this thing with Maggie…”

“Mom, let’s not go there. We’re both adults, and I think Maggie is a lot stronger than you give her credit for. I don’t know what this
thing
is, but I know what it’s not.” He stepped back and opened the car door for his mother. “It’s not casual, and it’s not easy or ordinary or simple. Its fire and excitement and a whole bunch of stuff I can’t even explain.”

His mother cocked her head, a slow smile on her lips. “You sound like a writer.”

“It’s what I do,” he snorted, and then paused. “I think I’m ready.”

“Ready?” Lauren prompted. He heard the concern, the worry, and wondered who it was for. Him or Maggie?

“To fill in the holes.” He shrugged. “To maybe live for something or someone other than me or the band.”

His mother looked surprised. Confused maybe.

“Okay.” Lauren slid inside the car and glanced up. “
Oka
y
,” she repeated. “Just be careful, Cain. You’re stepping into a complicated situation, one that involves a child and who knows what else.”

He clenched his jaw tightly, his thoughts darkening as he thought of what Michael had shared with him earlier. Complicated? Hell, yeah, but he was ready for it.

“Don’t worry about me.” He kissed her once more and patted the top of the car. “I get that you’re concerned, but you don’t have to be. I love you.”

Lauren put the car into gear. “I love you more.” She reversed out of the driveway, and he watched the glow of her taillights disappear around the bend.

Cain headed back to the fire, his steps light and sure.

“Hey.” Maggie glanced up at him. Her eyes were huge jewels that glistened in a face as smooth and creamy as ivory. The wind had messed with her hair so much that the long, tangled waves hung down her shoulders in crimson ropes. She looked delicate, hauntingly beautiful.

He wanted to talk to her about her situation, about her ex and what all of it meant, but he knew he needed to be careful. He didn’t want to spook her. Didn’t want to do anything that would send her packing.

Cain cleared his throat and glanced at Michael. The boy was out cold. A day of fresh air and water was nothing to be messed with. “I guess we should get him home…or you could stay if you want.” He nodded toward the cottage. “There’s room.”

“No,” she answered quickly. “No, we should go.” Maggie stood and shivered. It was damp, and the fire was nearly out. She was still in her tank top and shorts, and he knew she was cold. “Thanks for everything. It was really…” Her eyes widened as she stared at him, and he knew his desire was there for her to see. How could it not be? He felt it in every cell of his body. The need to hold her was that intense.

She licked her lips and he groaned inwardly. “It was really nice.”

She was whispers and smoke and sex.

Cain took two steps and grabbed her into his arms. He gave her no choice and held her close, though he couldn’t stop his hands from running along her frame until they rested in the hollow of her back. Her skin was bare there, cool to his touch, and he smiled when he felt a tremor rush beneath her flesh. She was rigid at first, but then relaxed against him. Her head rested just under his chin, and he was content to hold her. To breathe her in and keep some part of her inside him.

The night caressed them. It was filled with the scent of the outdoors as a soft breeze slid across their skin. Crickets chirped incessantly, and in the distance, lights twinkled across the water. Laughter echoed into the air, traveling miles along the lake.

Maggie shifted, her arms creeping up to his neck, and he groaned as his cock pulsed painfully between his legs. He’d had a hard-on for days now, and the ache wasn’t going away anytime soon.

He pulled her with him, away from the slumbering child and fire, into the darkness. There were no words, just a need that clawed at him. Did she feel it too? This insane urge to crawl inside someone’s skin? To feel their every thought, emotion, and desire?

Maggie shuddered against him and moaned softly as he cupped her chin. He looked into her liquid soft eyes and ran his finger along her jaw.

“I can’t believe it’s taken the entire day for me to get you alone.” Shit, it sounded like such a cliché, but it was true. It was as though the damn universe had conspired to keep them at arm’s length.

She swallowed, ran a nervous tongue over her lips. They shone under the moon’s glow, and he couldn’t take his eyes off them.

“We’re not really alone,” she whispered.

He had no idea what had just come out of her mouth. In fact, all he thought of was her lips on his body, trailing a line of fire down his stomach and even lower. Images of that perfect, plump mouth wrapped around the aching hardness between his legs and her long hair bundled in his hands left him weak.

Cain felt like he was coming apart, and he’d barely touched her.

“I want you, Maggie, so bad it hurts. If I could have you here, right now, I would.” His voice was rough, heavy with desire and need.

Her mouth hung open, and he thought she was probably shocked at his bold statement. He didn’t care. He lowered his mouth and groaned into her, his tongue going deep, probing the hot wetness inside as he kissed her long and hard and thoroughly.

She tasted like cinnamon and chocolate, and when her tongue met his, when that first tentative stroke tingled inside his mouth, he melted. She was everything at that moment. The air he breathed, the blood that pumped through his body, the thoughts that crowded his brain.

His hand splayed across the roundness of her ass, and he pulled her in as tight as he could, loving the heat that spiraled out from his stomach to clutch him hard. He tore his mouth away and sought out the valley between her breasts. Her skin was damp, heated, and that scent he’d been craving, that unique signature that was all hers, tingled in his nose.

Such a rush of possessiveness rolled over him that he was momentarily stunned. It was as if she’d been imprinted onto him somehow. He not only wanted her—and wanted her badly—he wanted no one else to touch her. Ever.

Maybe that thought should have been enough to stop him cold. But it didn’t.

The sounds that erupted from deep in her throat drove him crazy. He felt every single one of them rip through him, and he licked, nibbled, and suckled her there, low in the crook beneath her ear. She shuddered against him and groaned softly. It damn near undid him.

“I need to see you.” His voice was harsh, his breaths ragged.

“Michael…” Her voice was so low, he’d barely heard her.

“He’ll be fine.”

Cain brought her with him, back a few feet, and they tumbled onto one of the low-slung lounge chairs near the beach. The vinyl was cool, wet from the water and the night’s dew. They didn’t care. Their hands were grabbing, tugging, twisting, and he rolled onto his back, gazing up at her in wonderment as she ripped at his T-shirt.

The moonbeams from above dusted her head in an eerie glow, gave her an ethereal quality that was breathtaking. Her lips were parted, their bruised softness swollen and sexy as hell. He sat up with her straddling his lap, and he threw his shirt onto the ground.

“I’m a goddamn mess for you, Maggie.”

Her hands were near his stomach, the fingers circling the flesh that lay open to her. She licked her lips again like the temptress she’d become and adjusted her body. Her hips slid across his groin, causing just enough friction to elicit a hiss.

“Touch me,” he whispered, teeth clenched.

Her gaze focused on him, the edge of her tongue peeking out as her hand slowly moved. His breath hitched at the back of his throat, and he gripped the sides of the lounge chair, his knuckles white. Her touch was like a whisper of feathers, tracing and touching, teasing.

She moved once more, the apex between her legs hot against his upper thigh. When she closed the heat of her palm across his cock, he couldn’t help himself and swore. “Holy Christ, Maggie.”

A playful smile swept across her mouth as she began to massage him in a slow, methodical motion that had his balls aching for relief. He hissed. “You gotta stop, babe. You’re moving too fast—”

“I don’t want to.”

Her words stopped him cold, and he groaned as her free hand crept along his abs until she leaned forward and braced herself above him. She continued to knead and roll her palm across the hard length of him, and when she closed her mouth over his nipple and began to suckle, he tightened even more and for a moment thought he was going to literally explode in her hand.

“Sweet fucking Jesus.”

Her hand moved faster against him, rubbing and grasping, all the while gyrating her hips along his thigh, and the heat of her burned him. His right hand crept up her rib cage and held her in place, while his left sought out the heat between her legs and he mimicked her motions, his palm firm against her softness.

She stared down at him, mouth open, panting, as his fingers rubbed along the crevice there. She looked wild, untamed, and when her fingers slipped inside his shorts to grasp his cock—when it was skin on skin—he groaned and paused.

His heart leaped into his throat, and the pressure inside was fierce. He wanted nothing more than to throw her to the ground and bury himself inside her. He could do it too. She was there, riding along with him and, from the dampness in his palm, as horny as he was.

A whimper escaped from between her lips as he continued to rub along the inside of her legs, fingering and teasing until he slipped inside her panties. When his fingers found the wetness there, he didn’t wait but plunged two long fingers inside her slick warmth.

She screamed. Not a surprised, holy-shit kind of scream, but a throaty, sexy noise that drove him crazy. “Cain, I—” He moved his fingers, massaging her tight sheath with quick, sure strokes, and she moaned.

“Maggie…” Christ, he couldn’t even finish his thoughts.

He closed his eyes and let her hold him as he continued to minister his own form of torture. He bit his lips as her thumb massaged that sensitive skin beneath the head of his cock, and his chest rose and fell in rapid jerky motions. When he didn’t think he could take any more, he squirmed, sat up straighter, and grabbed the hand that was inside his shorts to hold her still.

Cain stared into her eyes, those large liquid pools of ocean, and time stopped. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her tongue was caught between her teeth, and her skin shone with the silvery sheen of sweat. He shifted and coaxed her toward him, claimed her lips in a whisper of a kiss. It was all about touch and emotion and communicating without words.

He knew she was as worked up as he, and that if he wanted, he could have her right now. But for the first time in his life, he wanted more than just a quick screw. He wanted more than the pleasure of a physical release.

He
would
have Maggie, but he wanted it to matter. Cain broke off the kiss, and his fingers settled into the thick hair at her nape. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this again but…

“We gotta stop Maggie,” he murmured hoarsely, “or I won’t be able to.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest. His right hand slid up along her back, and he tugged until she relaxed and collapsed against him. She was shivering, and he held her tightly, loving the way she fit into his arms like the last piece of a puzzle.

For the longest time, Cain held her, stroked her hair, and reveled in the feel of her. Darkness enveloped them in a secret embrace, with only the soft glow of the moon on the horizon as witness. The crickets still chirped, the frogs croaked incessantly, and in the distance a loon called, its song sad and mournful. The breeze that slid across the lake was cool, and after a while she shifted and whispered against his skin, “I should get Michael home.”

Her hand slid into his as he rolled off the lounge chair and stood. Cain’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, and he kissed her forehead, his fingers lingering along the bare flesh of her arms.

“Let’s go,” he said softly.

The fire was nearly out, and Cain lifted Michael into his arms, blanket and all. He kicked sand onto the embers and followed Maggie through the dark to his truck. They rode back to town in silence, the powerful engine purring through the quiet and filling the space between them.

When they arrived at her house, Maggie unlocked the door for him, and Cain stepped through, her son tucked securely in his arms. He headed toward Michael’s room and deposited him on his bed just like he’d done a few nights earlier.

The little head of curls moved, and Michael yawned. His eyes fluttered and opened slowly. “I had fun today,” he murmured.

“That’s good.” Cain ruffled the top of his head while Michael uttered something unintelligible before sliding into Sandman’s embrace once more.