Unbroken (16 page)

“That bodes well.”

“I think.”

He held his arm out. “After you.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

They tromped up the wooden stairs and into the loft space. It was dim, and open, tall windows facing Silver Creek's main street.

“This is great. Like, really—” A strong arm caught her around the waist and spun her to face him. Then his mouth crashed down on hers and she stopped talking about the view. Because all she could focus on was John's lips. His tongue. Oh . . . yes.

She chose that moment to embrace her inner vixen. The poor thing had been locked up for way too long.

She put her hands on his flannel shirt, the one that had been driving her freaking crazy since she'd walked into his mercantile, gripped both sides of his collar and pulled hard, sending buttons flying everywhere.

“Oh, wow, that was awesome,” she said, leaning in and licking the hollow at the base of his throat, down in between his pecs.

He grunted and pushed his fingers through her hair, tugging hard until she lifted her head and he was able to claim her lips again.

She made a very appreciative noise that she could not be bothered to be embarrassed about, and pushed him backward, propelling them both to the couch that was at the center of the large room.

“Have a seat,” she said, whipping her top over her head. She wasn't embarrassed about him seeing her naked now.

He obeyed and she reached behind her back and opened her bra, letting it fall to the floor. “Undo your pants,” she said.

He arched a brow and started working his belt buckle. Shit. She was about to see a stranger naked. She hardly knew this guy and she was about to get acquainted with his penis.

Like, intimately so.

He unzipped his pants, but he didn't go pulling his cock out or anything. Which she sort of appreciated. It was her move now.

She knelt down in front of him, her heart hammering in her ears. Her breasts brushed against his thighs, sending a shock of heat and arousal through her.

“I have seriously never wanted a man like I want you right now,” she said. “Ever. You are . . .” She put her hand out and rubbed her palm over his cloth-covered erection. “Oh dear Lord, you're huge.”

He laughed. “Am I?”

“I've only had sex with one other guy.”

“You're not serious.”

“No, I am. I am short on male anatomy comparisons.”

“Still, if we were doing quotes for an ad, we would just say I was the biggest you've ever seen. We wouldn't add that the comparison pool was with one other dick.”

“Sure,” she said, “if it makes you feel better.”

She pushed her fingertips beneath his shirt and made contact with his skin. Hard-packed abs, a rough sprinkling of hair. Damn.

Then she let her hands drift down to his underwear. She took a deep breath and reached inside, wrapping her fingers around his cock and pushing the waistband of his underwear down so she could see him.

“Oh yeah . . .” She squeezed him gently and looked up at his face. He was a study in sincerity and concentration. For once, it wasn't all bullshit and charm. And it was because of her. “You know what tongue rings are good for, right?” she asked.

“I've heard rumors,” he said, his voice strangled.

“Well, let's confirm them.” She leaned forward and slid her tongue over his length, and was rewarded by a short curse and a sharp tug on her hair.

“I guess it works?” she asked.

“Why are you talking?”

“Don't you think this is a good time to have a discussion about feeeelings?”

The look on his face was tormented. Like he wanted to yell at her, and also agree and start telling her all his deepest emotions just so she would finish what she started. She got off on the power a little bit; she couldn't lie.

“I'm just kidding. I don't want to talk.” She dipped her head again and took him deep in her mouth. She'd never been what she considered an expert on giving head, but honestly, she was feeling so giddy she was just leading with enthusiasm.

Every dip of her head was met with an appreciative groan and a tug on her hair. It was a pretty massive ego boost that a dude who was such a man-whore got off on her skill. Of course, guys got off on just the thought of a BJ, but she wasn't going to think about that.

She was officially not going to think at all. She was just going to feel.

“Okay,” he said, tugging her head up. “I have to be done now because . . . I . . . I really really want to have you naked. There will be foreplay. Later. The second time. The third time, maybe.”

“Ambitious,” she said.

“Yeah, I'm an overachiever in some ways. You're about to benefit.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“I have a serious question for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, drawing her up onto the couch and somehow managing to maneuver so that she was beneath him and he was settled between her thighs. “Do you have your tiny tractor on hand?”

“What?”

“The tractor I gave you. If you don't have it, I'll be wounded.”

“I do have it,” she said, “but I think it's weird that you want it.”

“Where?”

“My bag. Over . . . over there.” She gestured to the floor about a foot away from the couch.

“I'll be back.” He got up and walked over to the bag, tugging his shirt off and kicking his pants and underwear down to the floor. She admired the view. The ass was even better sans jeans. “May I?” he asked, bending over and touching her purse.

“If you don't mind the risk of touching a feminine product.”

“Nope.” He opened the purse and brought out the little green tractor, then he walked back to the couch and unsnapped her jeans, parting the fabric. He put the tractor on her stomach, the cold metal sending a little shock through her.

He pushed it up, and for some reason, the combination of sexiness and just freaking adorableness put her so close to the edge she thought she'd come if she shifted against his thigh. Just a little bit of pressure, and it would all be over for her.

He let it rest on her stomach while he tugged her jeans down, and her breath hitched when he got them off and stared down at her. At the most private place on her. The tractor hitched too, and tipped sideways, falling over.

“Well, damn, you wrecked my tractor.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” he said. “I'm just glad you had it with you.”

“Don't imbue the tractor with emotional symbolism.”

“I'm a man-whore, remember? We don't imbue anything with emotional symbolism. Just a second.” He got up and went back over to his pants, taking a condom out of his pocket and putting it on quickly before rejoining her on the couch. The head of his erection pressed against the entrance to her body and she held her breath, waiting. Desperate.

“No,” he said, pushing inside of her, “we don't imbue things with emotional symbolism.” He entered her fully and his size, the amazing feeling of being so close to him, made it impossible for her to do anything but just feel. But just breathe him in. “Except for tiny tractors.”

And then he started to move inside of her, the feeling beyond anything she'd anticipated, the pleasure a feeling close to pain. It was incredible. Perfect.

He hooked his hand beneath her thigh and pushed it up over his shoulder, going deeper. “Oh my . . .” Her intended blasphemy trailed off as he pushed them both higher, closer. She watched his face, the intensity, the need. It reflected her own. She felt like they were in perfect sync, both feeling the same thing. Both wanting the same thing. She'd never felt this close to anyone before. And if she wasn't so mindless with need, it might have scared her.

But instead of feeling afraid, she clung to John, and raced to the finish with him. And when she fell, he fell with her. And in that moment she was perfectly certain she would never look at a small toy tractor the same way ever again.

Fourteen

“Cade, can we stop?” Amber asked.

Cade looked at her from his position in the driver's seat. “To?” His first thought was maybe she wanted to park. And that made him feel like he was seventeen again. And a horny asshole. But then, when he'd been seventeen and a horny asshole, he'd never kissed Amber.

Today he had.

He had issues, and he really didn't want to go confronting them. He'd confronted enough of them today at his family home, that was for sure.

“I need milk. I just realized we're out. We can just stop at the gas station store.”

Okay, for milk. Not heavy petting. That was more normal.

“Fine,” he grunted, gunning it until the gas station came into view, then taking a sharp left into the driveway. “Might as well get gas while I'm at it.”

He pulled up to the pump and waited for the attendant to come to the window.

“Hey, JJ,” he said, when the kid came into view. He didn't know when that kid had gotten old enough to have a job. JJ was the son of a guy he used to ride with back in the day, and yeah, the other man was a few years older than Cade, but for him to have a teenage son when Cade considered him a peer just made him feel . . . ancient.

“Mr. Mitchell.”

That didn't help. “That makes me feel old.”

JJ tilted his head. “You kind of are.”

“Shut up, kid. Fill it up. I'll pay in the store.” He turned to Amber. “I got it.”

Better she wait in the car for a minute. Better he get a little bit of distance. Before his head or . . . other parts . . . exploded.

He slammed the truck door shut and, his hands stuffed into his pockets, headed toward the store while JJ got started filling the truck.

Cade pushed the door open and grimaced when he saw another local weed from Silver Creek High working behind the counter. Cade was already in a bad mood thanks to the altercation with his family, and his subsequent truncated make-out session with Amber against the side of the truck.

These kids he'd spotted being not kids anymore, and having jobs, and making him feel his age, aided by the hitch in his get-along and the pain in his back, were not helping.

He looked over in the cooler section and spotted a row of milk. He walked over and opened the door, putting his hand on the half gallon and eyeing the beer that was in the next cold case over. That didn't sound so bad.

Not bad at all.

He took the milk off the shelf and headed toward the beer, then paused at the shelf that was across from the refrigerator.

There was a box of condoms hanging there. Mocking him. A box of twelve condoms, representing twelve potential sexual encounters that he would not be having.

His body throbbed in an entirely different way.

He should grab a pack of beer. And he shouldn't look at the condoms. At all.

Still, he was looking at the condoms. And his heart was pounding hard. Because he was thinking of how it had felt to be inside Amber that morning on the kitchen table. And he was thinking about how it had felt to kiss her, less than a half hour ago, against the side of his truck.

He wanted her again.

It didn't matter what they'd said; he wanted her again. He wanted to lose himself in her. Drown in what she'd made him feel. Because it was the best he'd felt in four years. The most alive.

The most like himself.

He was having some kind of damned epiphany in the milk and condom aisle at the gas station, and he wasn't really sure what to do about it.

Except buy the condoms.

He didn't have to use them. Not tonight. Not with Amber ever. But he hadn't bought condoms in those four celibate years of his. And buying them would feel like moving on. As had his shouting match with Cole.

That had felt like moving on from something even bigger. Something that had lasted even longer. All the polite lies he'd helped his dad keep up.

He could buy beer. And that would be in keeping with the status quo. Or he could buy the condoms.

He grabbed the box off the shelf and walked back over to the counter, making a conscious effort not to limp as he did so.

He set them both on the counter and stared the kid down. He picked the milk up and scanned it slowly, then looked at the condom box and picked it up, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

“That means you're too young for those,” Cade said. And now he felt superior. Being young was overrated.

“Bag 'em,” he added. Because he was not walking out to the truck with those in his hand in front of Amber. Because she would assume things. And then he might get killed by a swift jab of her car keys to his neck.

There was nothing to assume. He was buying them because he was back in the saddle, so to speak. And that was all.

That was all.

*   *   *

Amber's pulse was pounding when they got back to her
grandpa's house. To her house. Whatever. She was too nervous to think straight.

And far too sober.

And far too turned on from the kiss Cade had planted on her at the truck.

Far too invested in whether or not he would do it again. And if he did, what would she do?

What would they do?

She wasn't sleeping outside in a chair tonight, that was for sure. And that meant she was sleeping inside. With Cade.

But maybe not with Cade. Or maybe with Cade. She didn't know. She didn't know what she wanted. No, she knew what she wanted; she just didn't know if she should.

Well, that wasn't true either. She knew what she wanted. And she knew she shouldn't have it.

But whether or not she would let herself have it was another thing entirely.

“Don't forget to put the milk away,” she said, intercepting Cade when he came through the door, putting her hand on the paper bag he was holding.

“I won't,” he said, pulling away from her like she'd threatened to wipe cooties on him.

“I can do it,” she said.

“I got it.”

“Okay, Cade, just refrain from abusing any of my cheese when you do.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“No. You abused my cheese last time you got into the fridge. You were all agitated and you . . . squeezed it.”

“That sounds wrong, Amber,” he said, opening the fridge and sticking the milk inside on the top shelf, then closing it, the paper bag still in his hand.

“What do you have in the bag?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you have beer?” She gasped. “You have marshmallows for secret eating!”

“No, I don't.”

“You do! And you're hiding them from me. And you're going to go eat them without me.”

“No,” he said, holding it closer to his chest, “I'm not.”

“Right, right. You have stealth sugar. I am offended by your lack of sharing. See if you get any bacon in the morning.”

She felt good right now. Almost high. Because things felt silly, and like they might just be friends again. Like maybe the kiss at his brother's house hadn't mattered all that much. And like they'd be able to actually move on.

“I don't. I'm going to bed now, Amber.”

“It's not even eight.”

“Still, I'm tired. Burning bridges takes a lot out of you.”

She frowned. “You didn't burn any bridges, Cade. You had a fight with Cole, that's all. It will sort itself out. He's your brother.”

“Yeah, I don't know. Maybe it will, maybe it won't. It's hard to tell.”

“No, it's not. You're brothers. It will work out.”

“Things don't always work out though. And maybe . . . maybe things won't with us. I don't know.”

“How can you say that, Cade? You're all each other has. You and him and Lark.”

“I have you,” he said.

Her throat tightened. “Yes. You do. Always. But he's your family. Lark is your family. You have to make things okay with them.”

“I know.”

“Nicole is your family too.”

“Yeah, I know that too. But like I said to Cole . . .” He let out a heavy sigh and leaned forward, resting the paper bag on the table, one hand gripping the back of a dining chair. “There was a lot going on he didn't know about. Cole is sort of stepping into an alternate reality here. I mean, I know he's known some things for a while, but not anywhere near as long as I have. Cole idolized our dad all through the years when I knew the truth about him. When I was keeping all those secrets to try and keep our family together. I'm dealing with . . . I'm almost dealing with totally different baggage from an entirely different upbringing.”

Amber nodded. “You are. You're right. And I can see why Nicole being here, and you having to deal with people knowing the truth . . . I can see why it's harder for you. He made you keep his secrets. He made you feel like it was your responsibility. He—”

“He made me understand why it was important. So things didn't change. So people didn't get hurt. He said . . . He said he knew I was the one who would understand. He knew I would help because he knew I would . . . that I'd get it.”

“He manipulated you.”

Cade shrugged. “Sure. Maybe. But the fact is . . . well, the facts are the facts. I spent a lot of years being resentful of the woman my father had an affair with. Being resentful of the kid he had. Because they were a part of causing my pain. And I know now that Nicole isn't at fault. But she's wrapped up in it.”

“You had every right to be pissed,” Amber said. “But eventually . . .”

“I know. Eventually I'll rebuild the bridge.”

“Good.” She snatched the bag off the table and looked inside before he could stop her, her jaw dropping, her face flaming, when she saw the contents. “Oh.”

“Dammit.” He snatched it back. “I told you there were no marshmallows in there.”

“But you did not tell me there were condoms.”

“No. Because they're mine.”

“I see.” She snapped her mouth shut. Then opened it again. Then shut it. She had no idea how to react. What to think. What to say.

He'd bought condoms. And he'd hid them from her. Granted, not very well, but he'd tried.

Were they for her? And if so . . . what did that mean? And if they weren't . . .

She felt sick at the thought. That he might already be thinking of going out and having sex with other women after they'd . . .

No. She really didn't like that at all.

Not that she really liked the idea of him buying the box for them either. Because they'd agreed not to talk about it. Or do it. And yes, they'd kissed, but as she'd rationalized earlier, that technically did not violate the rules.

The willful purchase of contraception most certainly did.

“Say something,” he said.

“I'd rather they were marshmallows.”

“Fair enough.”

“I'm not really sure what else to say.”

“Just let me go to bed.”

“With a box of condoms? Alone? Do you know something about male masturbation that I don't?”

He frowned. “I'm sure I do. But this has nothing to do with that.”

“Why did you buy them?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Amber . . .”

“For me or for someone else, Cade? That I have to know.”

“For me,” he said. “Because I feel like I finally moved on from whatever has been holding me back the past few years. Because I feel like I'm turning a corner and I saw them and thought, hell, I should buy them because I might need them. And I haven't had that thought in way too long.”

“Okay, but are they purely a metaphorical purchase, or are you planning on sneaking out your bedroom window and going to a bar to pick a chick up?”

He frowned. “Would it matter if I was?”

“Yes!” she said, without even pausing to think. “Yes. Because you just . . . you were just with me. And I can handle needing to ignore it, because yeah, that makes sense. And I can handle not doing it again. But I cannot handle you actually ignoring it, you know?”

“Not really.”

“You can pretend it didn't happen, but you better damn well remember it did. You better still be thinking about it. And burning a little. And not wanting to do that with anyone else because I'm the one on your mind, because . . . because that's how it is for me. And if it isn't that way for you, not even a little bit, I'm just going to be so . . . so mad!”

She was breathing hard, her face hot, her entire body shaking. She hadn't meant to be quite so honest. Heck, she hadn't even realized that was how she felt.

But it was.

Because of course she hadn't forgotten. It had been the single most incredible experience of her life. She was certainly not ready to go and test out her new celibacy break with other men, and if he was ready to do it with other women, she was going to throw something at his head.

Possibly cheese.

“I can't win,” Cade said. “This”—he held his bag up and rattled it—“this is a no-win situation for me. If they're for another woman, I'm a slutty asshole who had sex with you and am now looking for other pastures to plow, so to speak. If they're for you . . . then I'm a conniving douche bag planning on seducing my best friend again, even though I promised I wouldn't.”