Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (42 page)

“Gin,” he panted, “Gin, you have to stop.”

“Nuh-uh,” she objected, licking him slowly from base to tip before tonguing his head again with long, slow laps and soft moans.

“Baby, I’m goin’ to come,” he grated out.

She raised her head, nailing him with her eyes. “Promise?”

“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed as she wet her lips with her tongue and slipped them over him again, lowering her mouth slowly.

She felt him jerk and throb, felt the tightening, the imminence of his climax.

“God! Ginger!” he yelled, thrusting upward twice into her mouth before finding his release. She sucked him lightly, milking him until his body thudded back onto the mattress and he sighed long and low and deep with pleasure.

Finally she slid her lips up to his tip, kissing it gently before sitting up. His arm was thrown over his face, covering his eyes, as his cut, muscular chest rose and fell with his ragged breathing.

“Cain?” she said softly, cocking her head to the side, suddenly feeling a little bit insecure.

She watched his lips turn up into the hottest, happiest smile she’d ever seen, and she felt laughter bubble up, joyful and free. She’d made him happy.

He moved his arm and looked up at her, his eyes warm and sparkling. “That. Was. Epic.”

Careful of his spent sex, she shimmied over his pelvis and sat on his washboard abs. “Is that right?”

“I don’t even want to
think
about where you learned to do that.”

Her cheeks felt hot suddenly, and she looked away from him.

“Princess,” he said, reaching for her face and turning it to face him. “I didn’t mean to bring up Woodman. I’m sorry, I—”

“I never did that with Woodman,” she blurted out. “I never did
that
. . . until now.”

***

It was ridiculous that her words should make a chord of pure, unadulterated happiness thrum through his body, but they did. They did because Ginger loving a man that way would belong to him and only to him. And he wished he had something to give to her and only to her . . . and then he realized suddenly, he did.

“Well, Miss Virginia Laire,” he said, keeping his voice light though his heart pounded with emotion, “you were very good at it.”

“Was I, Mr. Wolfram?” she asked in a thick Southern accent, rocking back and forth lightly on his chest.

She needed relief, and fuck, he wanted to give it to her.

Reaching forward, he unbuttoned her jeans and worked the fly down, but she was still sitting on him, so he couldn’t get them off. Giggling, she unstraddled his stomach and knelt on the bed beside him, pulling down her pants and panties, then sitting on the edge of the bed so she could shuck them to the floor. Cain took a minute to do the same, pushing his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off and toeing his sneakers onto the floor.

But his mood went from playful to reverent as he turned to find her naked, her back to him, still sitting on the edge of the bed. She’d pulled her blonde hair over her shoulder so he could trace the line of her neck and back with his eyes, and he drank her in like a man dying of thirst. The way her waist curved in and her hips curved out. The slight swell of her breasts. The smooth lines of her shoulders. She was a goddess, and he was definitely not worthy of her, though he’d worked his whole life—
his whole life
—to find himself here, to deserve her. And even if it took the rest of his life to earn her, he’d never stop thanking God for the chance to love her, for the second chance to be loved
by
her.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for givin’ me that part of you.”

“It was always yours to take,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Thank you for lovin’ me.”

“I never stopped.”

“Thank you for lettin’ me love you.”

“You’re welcome,” she murmured.

Sitting behind her, he pulled her into the V of his open legs, pressing his lips to her back, skimming them up to her shoulders and kissing each wing, then lingering at the base of her neck, his hands slipping around her body to cup her breasts and pull her closer. His erection strained against her back, and she leaned her neck to the side, granting him access to her throat as he massaged her breasts, playing with her nipples, circling them with his index finger and pinching them gently between his fingers.

He took a deep breath.

“I’ve never . . .”

“You’ve never what?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’ve never been inside a woman . . . without protection,” he admitted, biting on the lobe of her ear, which elicited a gasp from her. “Without a barrier.”

He flattened his palm over her heart, feeling the slight groove of an old scar and, just beneath, its strong beat under his hand, knowing that it was fully mended—from her surgery, from the heartbreak he caused, from the loss of Woodman. It was whole and strong . . . and his.

“Never?” she asked breathlessly, letting her head fall back on his shoulder as his cock throbbed against her.

“Not once,” he said, his lips dragging across her skin, wondering if he had the right to ask her for such a thing. “But I want that . . . with you.”

She raised her head and stood up, turning around to face him. Reaching forward, she cupped his face, and Cain Holden Wolfram, notorious manwhore, was speechless, struck dumb with the force and fullness of his love for this one woman, for this beloved creature, whom he’d known forever, who had owned a piece of his heart since his earliest days and owned all of it now.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead, skimmed them to the tip of his nose, then to his lips, which she kissed softly, nibbling at his bottom lip and then gently nipping the top. Kneeling down between his legs, she put her hands on his shoulders, and he dropped his hands to her hips to help her, to guide her.

“I want that too,” she whispered, so close to him that her breasts were crushed between them. He reached down and cupped her ass, lifting her gently, helping her bent knees settle on either side of his hips. She arched into him, against him, reaching down to position the tip of his sex at the entrance of her body, then winding her arms around his neck to hold herself up.

“Lionhearted woman,” he sighed. “I love you forever.”

“I love you forever too,” she said, lowering herself, inch by inch, onto his swollen, throbbing cock.

She was wet and warm, tight and soft, squeezing him like a glove, sucking him forward and up up up into the heaven of her sex. He held his breath, feeling her stretch to take him, amazed by the tiny ridges that massaged his cock, waiting until she was fully impaled on him before exhaling. Her eyes, which had been closed, opened, finding his, owning his, and he knew, for the first time in his entire life, what it was to feel his body fused to another human being’s, what it was to feel his soul open to hers, and why having sex was a completely different thing from making love.

“Baby,” he panted, “are you okay?”

“Mm-hm,” she sighed, smiling this ridiculously beautiful, dreamy grin that made his balls tighten and his heart burst.

He thrust up, into her, and she moaned, leaning forward to press her forehead to his.

“Again,” she gasped, moving her hips, dragging her breasts against his chest.

“Kiss me,” he said, pumping into her, trying to restrain himself, but unable to resist the unbelievable paradise of her pussy.

His lips fell upon hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he quickened his thrusts. She broke off their kiss, her fingers curling into his shoulders as her whimpers became faster and louder, and the walls of her sex started squeezing.

“Cain,” she moaned, her voice breaking as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I love you. I love you so much.”

She was so beautiful, he could barely breathe.

“Come for me, baby. I’m right behind you.”

“Cain!” she screamed as her pussy fisted, then released, convulsing in waves. She threw back her head, her throat taut, her pulse fluttering like a wild thing.

Cain held on to her hips, plunging into her once, twice, three ti—he cried out her name, roaring his love for her as her wrapped his arms around her body and fell over the edge of bliss, knowing with profound certainty that his life was changed forever: baptized in love, reborn in devotion, his heart bound to hers until death.

He was right, of course. Ginger had never made love until tonight. And now she wanted nothing more—
nothing
, for the rest of her life—than to spend every night making love with Cain.

The second time, he’d stared into her eyes and moved slowly, entering her with aching and maddening deliberateness, hovering over her, his weight braced on his veined arms, his muscles bulging, his thick erection moving inside her, leaving no part of her untouched, untaken, unloved. They’d come softly together with moans of pleasure, locked on each other’s faces, captive in each other’s eyes, with no need for pledges or promises. Just a million thoughts that they’d never expressed poured into one shared expression of seamless love as their bodies trembled together with the intensity of perfect union, and then they fell asleep still intimately joined, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

Hours later her eyes opened lazily to a pitch-black room. She stirred just a little from her warm and cozy nest, checking out the clock on Cain’s bedside table: 10:43. She smiled and nestled back into his arms. They’d been sleeping for a couple of hours, and she definitely wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up yet so she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed.

“You hungry, princess?” he asked, his breath warm and soft against the back of her neck.

“You’re awake?” She turned around in his arms to face him. Her tender breasts, which he’d loved to aching just hours before, scraped against the springy hair on his chest, and she bit her tongue to keep from moaning.

“I don’t . . .,” he started, then grinned at her, the crevices of his dimples deep in his cheeks. He shook his head and fell onto his back, scrubbing his hands over his face before looking back over at her with a goofy, happy grin. “I don’t want to miss anythin’. Does that make me the sappiest boyfriend in the whole fuckin’ world?”

She was lying on her side, one elbow propping up her head as she watched him. “
Boyfriend
?”

He blinked, his eyes suddenly uncertain. “No?”

“Yes,” she said softly, laying her palm flat on the ripple of muscles on his chest, her heart bursting with tenderness. “Definitely, yes.”

“Can we be together in Apple Valley?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She winced, taking a deep breath. “Not yet.”

“But he
wanted
—” Cain stopped abruptly, biting down on his lower lip, his expression troubled.

But he wanted . . .

“What? Who? ‘He’
Woodman
?” she asked, rubbing his chest gently, leaning over to try to read his eyes, which he kept downcast. “Cain? What were you goin’ to say?”

He closed his eyes and dragged his thumb back and forth across his lip before opening them again but stared straight up at the ceiling, not at her. “Leave it.”

“No,” she said firmly, sliding her hand away. “I can’t. What were you about to say?”

He reached for her hand and grabbed it, gently threading his fingers through hers and placing both over his heart. When he looked over at her, his eyes were glistening.

“I loved him,” he whispered.

“I know you did,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “I did too.”

“He was like a brother to me, Gin. You and Josiah were the only ones who . . . who saw something good in me.” He searched her eyes. “I would’ve done anythin’ for him. Time was, I pushed
you
away, even though
I
had feelings for you, because
he
was in love with you.”

She gasped lightly, nodding her head. “I know. I remember.”

It hurt to remember his words, but they were burned onto her memory:

He wanted to fuckin’
die
! The thought of you—
of comin’ home to you
—was the only thing that kept him hangin’ on most days. You think I’d take that away from him? You think there’s any way in hell I’d hurt him like that? You think I’d let
you
hurt him like that?

“Remember your twelfth birthday?”

She nodded. “The year I didn’t jump.”

“While you were poutin’, Josiah told me he was goin’ to marry you someday. He asked if I had a problem with that . . . and I . . . I only saw you as a kid, Ginger. I said you were all his.”

“Like a pact?”

Cain shook his head. “Naw. Like one brother layin’ his claim to a girl and the other respectin’ it.”

“How long did this go on? This . . . claim?”

Cain sighed, looking away from her again. “Doesn’t matter. What’s important is that it gave me a good reason to stay away from you. You have to understand, Gin, for a long time I thought—no, I
knew
—he was better for you’n me. I didn’t fight him for you because I didn’t think I deserved you.”

“Even though I loved you.”

“And I loved you,” he said, his forehead creasing. He sighed, his eyes troubled. “Come here, now.”

He propped a pillow under his head and pulled her over to him so that she was lying across his chest with her head snug under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her, running his fingers up and down her back gently, soothingly.

“If I loved you less, Gin,” he said, his voice rumbling under her ear, “I might have taken you in the old barn that afternoon you offered yourself to me. If I loved you or Woodman any less’n I did, I might have made the worst mistake of my life.”

“A
mistake
? To
be
with me?” she asked, and she couldn’t deny it: his words hurt. Bad.

“To ruin the chance of
this
,” he said, raising his voice a touch. “Of
now
. Of you here with me, and all of forever out in front of us.” He cupped the back of her head lovingly, clutching her to him. “I wasn’t ready to be the man you needed. And I’m sorry for that, but I still had a little bit of growin’ up to do. And if I had taken you like you wanted me to, I would’ve destroyed my relationship with him and killed anythin’ good between you and me for good.”

His words made sense, but anger rose up within her. Anger at a dead man who’d stood between her and the boy she’d loved so desperately. “He knew how I felt . . . and he stood between us.”

“He knew I wasn’t good for you. Not then. Not yet.”

Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. “It wasn’t up to him to play God with my heart, Cain! I’m . . . I’m angry at him!”

“You shouldn’t be,” he said evenly. “Every choice, every roadblock, every day
led to
this
day, and I wouldn’t trade this day for anythin’. So I’ll accept everythin’ that came before and ask for seconds . . . just to be with you.”

She sniffled softly, trying to recontextualize ten years of memories with this new information. But sifting through her memories, she couldn’t remember many times that Woodman had spoken against Cain or warned her away from him. He’d been mostly loyal to his cousin, defending and protecting Cain, even while defending and protecting her. What a fine line he’d had to walk. And maybe Cain was right—if Woodman hadn’t stood between them, laying an early claim to Ginger, they wouldn’t be wrapped in each other’s arms now. Maybe it had, in fact, all worked out the way it was supposed to.

But still, flaunting her newfound happiness with Cain? She couldn’t deny that it felt wrong somehow. Woodman had loved her, and she had made promises to him. She didn’t care so much what other people thought, but Woodman had worked so hard to keep her and Cain apart, it felt like dishonoring his memory for them to be together. It made her feel guilty.

“What were you goin’ to say before?” she asked. “What did Woodman want?”

Cain took a deep breath and released it slowly.

“He died in my arms, Gin.”

“Woodman? But I thought he died in that barn where the fir—”

“No,” said Cain, his voice low and strained. “When I pulled him out, he was still alive. He died in my arms.”

“No.” She leaned up on his chest, looking into his eyes. “Oh God, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

One of Cain’s hands left her back, and he braced it on his forehead, over his eyes, staring up at her, pain coming off him in waves.

“He didn’t die right away,” said Cain, still watching her.

Her stomach fisted and she whimpered.

“No, darlin’. He wasn’t in any pain. I don’t think he felt much of anythin’, but . . .” Cain’s face was shuttered in sorrow. “He said a few words.”

“He did? What did . . . Why didn’t you tell me? What did he say?” she asked, ignoring the tear that rolled down her cheek.

Cain reached up and caught it with his thumb, pushing it away, into her hair. He searched her eyes gravely. “You know I love you?”

She nodded, but her insides were in knots.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“You love me,” she said softly. “I know you do. And I love you.”

Cain nodded. “You know that I’ve
always
loved you? Even when I was pushin’ you away? Even when it seemed like I hated you? You believe that?”

She nodded again, blinking as more tears joined the first. “I don’t doubt your love for me, Cain.”

“That’s good, baby, because what I’m goin’ to tell you might be hard to hear.”

“Please just say it,” she whispered.

Cain nodded. “Before Josiah died, he told me you loved me.”

She gasped, holding her breath as she stared at Cain.

“There’s more. He . . . he asked me to be good to you, and care for you, and . . .” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “To love you.”

“Caaaain,” she sobbed, covering her mouth with her hand as the terrible tragedy of Woodman’s love for her came full circle.

“He made me promise,” said Cain.

She shook her head, trying to hold back the sobs but losing the battle.

“That’s why you started comin’ around,” she said.

He tensed, his whole body clenching. “You
know
I love you. Don’t let Josiah’s final wishes make you doubt that, baby.”

“But you were so angry with me the night of the BBQ,” she said, taking a gasping, sobbing breath. “You started comin’ around because of your promise to Woodman. Admit that’s true.”

“Only partly,” he said, furrowing his brows, his eyes searching hers desperately, willing her to know the truth of his words. “My promise to him forced me to forgive you for sleepin’ with him after you told me you loved me. So yes, I started comin’ around for him at first . . . but I
kept
comin’ for
you
. It was so easy to fall in love with you all over again. Don’t you see, Gin? The one thing that had always kept me from you was Woodman. His dyin’ gift to me . . . was his blessing.”

Her head fell forward with the power of her sadness, with the sheer magnitude of the devotion of Cain Wolfram to someone he loved, with the poignancy of Josiah Woodman’s last request. Cain had stayed away from her out of love for Woodman, and Woodman had given his permission to love her out of love for her and Cain, and it just about broke her to know it. They’d always referred to each other as brothers, but never had Ginger seen it more clearly than now, and it filled her with joy and sorrow, comfort and gratitude, to know that Woodman had stayed alive long enough to say the words that would ensure her happiness.

“We were two cousins in love with the same girl,” said Cain, lifting her chin and searching her face. “It doesn’t make one of us a villain and one of us a hero. You can’t help who you love. But someone’s heart was goin’ to break. In the end, he made sure it wasn’t one of ours.”

“He died talkin’ about us,” said Ginger, swiping at her tears.

Cain nodded. “He
always
wanted you to be happy, Gin.”

Why’s the sky blue, Ginger? Because it don’t know no other way to be.

“Is it wrong for us to be happy? Is it bad that we’re together, partly because he’s gone?”

“We both loved him,” said Cain tenderly. “It’s terrible what happened to him. In a million years, we didn’t want that.” He paused. “But it happened, and he wouldn’t have wanted us to grieve him forever. Not at all. His final words prove that he wanted us to be happy, princess.”

Exhausted, but strangely comforted, she lay her head back down and let Cain wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. She rested her ear over his strong, beating heart, and that’s how she fell asleep for the second time: bound to him in sorrow but united in peace.

***

Cain waited until her breathing was deep and easy before shifting to his side and pulling her close so they were spooned together as she slept. He had known all along that he couldn’t share Woodman’s last words with her until she was convinced of his love, but after sharing their bodies with each other tonight, he didn’t want to keep the secret anymore. He didn’t want any secrets between them. Ever.

Besides, he couldn’t bear for her to feel guilty being together, when Woodman’s final words on this earth had been about Cain and Ginger loving each other. Woodman wouldn’t have wanted her to be unhappy. Not for a moment. He’d lived his life for her happiness. And now she knew that finding their way to each other wasn’t a betrayal of Woodman, but a fulfillment of his wishes, and Cain hoped she would find the same peace that he’d been able to find in honoring his cousin’s last request.