Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (33 page)

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 fucking 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.”

I was about to laugh when I noticed his face. He was completely serious in his compliment. His concentration was on the hand that dove deeper below the waterline. A finger traced directly down my abdomen then settled through a mound of wet curls. My legs fell open, uncertain if that was even his intended destination. He could be loving in actions and that’s what I needed at the moment. I needed some reassurance.

He did not disappoint after glancing up at me for permission. The half-mast eyes and glazed expression of lust must have given him encouragement. A deft finger slipped over tender skin, ripe and eager for attention. He was lazily drawing a design, up and down, tortuously brushing from that trigger of pleasure to the base of me. He worked through the valley of my core, but did not enter me. My hips swayed, forcing water to crest softly and lap harder against the tub’s edge.

“Is this what you want from me?” he whispered temptingly, reminding me of his question from earlier. I willed my thoughts not to crash and crush the growing tension in my body. I needed this release to clear my mind. Holding tight to the light painting of my center, I gripped the edge of the tub. Cain’s smile grew sinisterly, knowing what he was doing to me. My frustration was building. I wanted a taste of that temptation, a bite of that apple. I wanted to be over the edge.

He stopped.

“Time to get out of the water,” he said.

Nooooo
, I screamed in my head, sitting upright abruptly. The water splashed and slopped around me, as Cain held out a hand to help me stand. Ignoring him, I braced on the edge of the tub. I stood a moment, letting water drip down my body in rivers and watched as Cain’s eye dilated. I reached for the glass of red wine and drank heartily until it was empty. My body was warm inside and out, but the warmth I required was trapped. I cursed Cain for teasing me.

He held up a hand to assist me out of the tub, but I ignored it. I didn’t know his game, but he could just watch the show, as I let my naked, wet body remain on display, helping myself out of the tub. I reached for a towel. Wiping myself dry, I took my time lingering each swipe over my warm skin. Every part of me was caressed tenderly, until not a drop remained. Still on the verge of orgasm, I squeezed my thighs together, in hopes to contain the feeling and help myself to my needs.

“Sofie?” That hypnotizing gaze of his reminded me of the snake ink that covered his chest and traveled down his right arm. The soothing tone of his voice coiled around me, making me dumb to all thoughts of reason. The numbing paralysis was hard to shake off. I’d never be able to resist him, but resist him, I did.

I brushed past him, entering his room while the weight of his eyes was on my naked body. While he was temptation, I was suddenly a temptress. I was taking what I needed for myself. I knelt on the bed, facing him. His dark eyes were mesmerized. His mouth open but no words dared to escape. This was my show.

My knees separated while my eyes remained trained on his. I had power. If he didn’t love me, I would show him what he’d miss. Keeping my head up and my back straight, I was level with his height. He remained near the bathroom door, pinned against the wall. My fingers tickled over my stomach, circled my belly then dragged down to the fresh, curly mound between my thighs. Both hands slipped forward and stroked, and my head fell back at the sensation. I was wet, warm, and prepped. One hand remained between my legs, while the other retracted up my body. I stroked through tender folds while the opposite hand covered my stomach. I circled that nub that pulsed and throbbed like a separate heartbeat, while other fingers circled a breast then pinched my nipple. My mouth fell open at the stiffening of hard skin, and my center flinched at the tender attention down low. I slid over to my other breast before covering my chest with my palm. My knees were shaking. My fingers increasing in tempo. My palm slipped up to my neck. My eyes could no longer focus on Cain, who stood with clenched fists at his side. His cobra tattoo on display, moved like a living organism as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

My fingers dug deeper, the pressure building. My free hand worked into my hair and I folded slightly forward. The flight was starting at my toes and crawling up thighs heavy with the weight of anticipation. My core clenched and I tugged at my own hair. I let a finger slip inside myself and called out as the buzz of release exploded within me.

“Let me worship now,” he growled, as he crossed the room to me.

My wrist was pulled back and I was gently toppled back on the bed. Heavy hands dragged me to the edge and Cain dropped to both knees before me. Lips connected in a sharp suction with me. I cried out again, still on the first wave as a second one began cresting. His tongue was thirsty and his strokes increased in intensity, desperate to drink me in. My hips bucked, and his tongue sputtered over me, pressing in the right manner to make my knees draw inward, clamping his head between my thighs. I screamed for salvation as I nearly drowned in the second coming.

“God, I love you,” he said, dark orbs filled with desire beamed down at me, as I laid sprawled, open wide before him. His mouth glistening as his words coursed through me. His thick fingers entered me to drag out another release, but the words he said showered over me. I stared at him in disbelief. His lips began to curl one side of his mouth. Ridiculous tears filled my eyes and slowly slithered down my cheek. I shook my head.

“Why are you crying?” he questioned. He removed his fingers and reached for a loose tear.

I exhaled, shaking my head. I couldn’t tell him. He leaned forward and wrapped an arm around my waist. Dragging me to the center of the bed, his large body hovered over mine. He leaned to the side to drag his hand down my body, climbing breasts, drifting over stomach, and finally returning to the river at my core. A finger dove deep and touched something inside me that made my hips buck upward again.

“Don’t cry, love.” Tears fell faster. “It’s going to be okay, Sofie. I’ll protect you.” He added. His finger withdrew from me, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want his protection.

“What is it, Sofie? What do you want from me?”

“Just love me,” I choked as a sob escaped me, no longer able to contain my emotions.

“I do love you, Sofie. I do,” he repeated. “I’ve been so lost without you, Sofie. Lost. But I found you over and over.”

My eyes returned to his. He removed his shirt, then sat back to slip off his jeans. His hands skimmed up my inner thighs and a finger caressed my core. His eyes narrowed, as I remained quiet, tears still trickled down my cheeks.

“Sofie, you didn’t know?”

I shook my head adamantly back and forth.

“How could you not know, Sofie?” His eyes skimmed over me. “I kept following you, searching for you, waiting for you.” He chuckled softly, as he returned to drawing over sensitive skin.

“You never said it,” I whispered.

“Is this what you want from me?” His eyes frantically roamed over my face, and he paused his attention down below. I bit my lip.

“I love you, Sofie. They’re the most foreign words to me, but I give them to you. I love you.” His lip tweaked. Large fingers impaled me tenderly. My tears of frustration shifted to ones of joy. He was hard instantly, and he slid his thick thighs between mine, forcing me to open wide for him.

“I love you, Sofie.” The conviction in his words was real. There was no more pretending. “You’re staying my wife.” He slipped into me with the hardness of him in such a tender manner; it nearly broke me. “And I want to be the love of your life.” For a beat we rocked together, finding that pace, that rhythm.

“My wife,” he stressed. “Mine,” he muttered softly with a thrust into me. “Because I love you. I’m never letting you go. Never losing you again.” Emphasizing each word forced me over the edge on a slow burn of elongated pleasure. A trifecta of orgasms was nothing compared to the sincerity of those words. Especially when I knew, I was the first person ever to receive that sacred trio from him.

“I love you.”