Chapter 9

I don’t know why I opened the front door to Cain before he even knocked. It made me look overly eager, I knew that. But I felt nervous about him in my parents’ house. Bella was locked in her room and swore she wouldn’t come out. She was video-chatting with Bradley and had her music playing loudly in the background so I couldn’t hear what she was saying. As if I wanted to.

But I wanted to sequester Cain into my room quickly before Bella was off the phone and needed a drink of water or something.

Now I was standing on the front step though and could see Cain getting out of a black, beat-up pickup truck and laughing at something the driver was saying. It was a girl, around my age, wearing very little clothing. It was June, but it wasn’t precisely a hot day. The tiny shorts and tiny T-shirt seemed a bit extreme for the current temperature. She had dark hair and a very large chest.

It stunned me to realize that I felt jealous. I wanted to know who the girl was. A bartender? A friend? A friend with benefits? It bothered me. She was that sort of overblown sexy that men responded to, and I knew I didn’t have that. Not that carefree smile and laugh and awareness of my own body.

Then again…

Because of Cain I knew a whole lot more about my body than I had a week ago.

So I stood there and just decided to hold my ground. I wasn’t going to attempt to go to the truck or ask him who the girl was or anything. It didn’t matter. He didn’t belong to me. He was on loan. Just because he had opened up to me the night before and shared his private pain, didn’t mean that we were anything other than an extended hookup.

“Hey, baby,” he said as he strolled up the walk wearing jeans, work boots, and a ratty T-shirt, along with a smirk that seemed out of place for him. For me. He didn’t look at me like that.

“Hey.” Then as he got closer I realized he had already been drinking. Most likely a lot. His eyes were glassy, his walk not quite straight. “How was your day?” It was an odd social nothing that I usually avoided, but I felt off-kilter. I had expected that if he did drink, it would be after he arrived. I didn’t expect him to show up wasted.

“It fucking sucked,” he said. “But I don’t want to talk about it.” He took my hand and laced his fingers through mine. “Come here and kiss me.”

It was never hard to kiss Cain. But his touch felt more possessive than tender and he smelled like the ocean. Not like sunscreen and saltwater. More like dead fish and seaweed. “Did you come straight from work?” I asked as I broke away, needing to breathe.

“Yep. By way of the bar. And my mother’s house.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “My sister dropped me off.”

I felt petty but I was relieved. I tugged him toward the house. The truck was still idling so I leaned around him and waved to his sister. She waved back.

“That’s Charlie. She’s the youngest and she’s the sibling with the most attitude.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment.” I said it sincerely, not realizing immediately that it sounded offensive.

He cracked a laugh. “Oh, Sophie, you kill me.”

I should apologize. That was the polite thing to do. But I couldn’t because I stood by it. For him to call his sister out for attitude seemed more than a little ironic. “I have that effect on people.”

“That’s not really the primary effect you have on me.” His hand slid across my ass.

“Come in the house.” The open door was squawking at us. The alarm didn’t like the extended time frame. We didn’t have neighbors. The house jutted out over the rocks in the back and either side was wooded. I didn’t care about his sister seeing us either, if he didn’t. But I still felt nervous about having him here, in my parents’ house, and I wanted to get into my room, in a sex cocoon.

“Eager. I like that.” He pulled his hand out of mine though as he followed me into the house.

Maybe it felt too much like legit holding hands. Boyfriend-girlfriend stuff.

“Can I take a shower?” he asked. “I should have gone home and changed after work.”

I wasn’t going to disagree with that. “Sure. I have a bathroom in my room.”

The house was designed with an open concept. The architect had intended for the view of the bay to be the star and it was. When you stepped through the front door, the wood floors were dark, the walls light, and it just drew your eye straight back to the water. The master bedroom was on the first floor in its own wing. The guest rooms were upstairs. The stairs were in the front left of the house so they didn’t steal the view, and I started to walk up them.

But Cain hesitated. “Should I take my shoes off?” He was already doing that, kicking them off at the heel with his toes.

A glance back showed he was frowning. “Only if you want to. It doesn’t matter either way.” That was a huge concession for me. Huge. It definitely did matter to me. But I could tell he was intimidated and I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. There was something in-your-face about this house and I recognized that. It was a pure display of wealth, plain and simple. I didn’t want him to get that defensive bravado people did when they realized how much money my father had. It wasn’t my money. I just reaped the benefits of it.

The thought of his boots, that had crossed over docks and boat decking, with blood and guts and seawater, made me internally shudder but I had to suck it up.

“I can take them off.” He had them off already and abandoned them there, at the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay.” I sighed in relief. “Do you want any bottled water or anything?” Now I was pausing, my heart racing a little. Our dynamic was off. The power between us had shifted and I didn’t like it. I wanted him in charge. The mentor. Me, the student.

“No, I’m good.” Cain was pulling his shirt off over his head.

I really hoped Bella didn’t choose then to come out of her room. She didn’t. I had him safely in my suite, locking the door behind us. “The bathroom is right there. Towels are in the baskets under the sink.”

“Show me,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up. He dropped his shirt onto the chair in the corner by the bathroom.

That chair was furry, which always irritated me. My mother knew I hated furry fabrics. They collected dirt.

I didn’t believe for one minute Cain couldn’t figure out how to find himself a towel. He wanted me in there, for whatever reason. “I really don’t think of you as being coy.” But I went into the bathroom and pulled out a bath towel. “Here you go.”

“Stay in here with me.” Cain turned the sink faucet on and bent his head under it. He drank the stream of water.

Okay. “I could have gotten you a water. I asked.”

He wiped his mouth and waved his hand. “Too much work. All I need is wet.”

I didn’t think he meant it to be sexual but nonetheless, I felt my eyebrows rise skeptically. He laughed.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he teased. He reached out and chucked my chin. “But you’re right. I do like that wet. I like you wet.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“You’re an open book. I love that about you.” His hand drifted down and he stared at me for a second, his light eyes unreadable.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, curious. His mood was different tonight. Maybe it was the alcohol. I didn’t know. But I couldn’t figure out what was going through his head.

Cain unzipped his jeans. “I’m thinking that you need to join me in the shower.”

I was disappointed. I wanted something more, some sort of declaration or compliment or validation. Which scared me. I was seeking more from him, any signal that we were connected in some way. Which meant I was attaching. That was not good. I turned and opened the glass shower door. “You go ahead.” I wasn’t getting in that shower with him. I had never done that with anyone and it seemed awkward in the extreme.

Cain had removed his jeans. He stood there, all hard and muscular and tattooed, in my mother’s perfect, pretty en-suite bathroom. It was all-white cabinetry, Carrara marble, glossy white tile in a herringbone pattern. I knew that’s what it was called because my mother had debated its merits endlessly until I had wanted to tell her I did not give one fuck what the flooring looked like. Which would have destroyed her, so I kept my mouth shut.

But now, seeing her glossy white confection as a background against a very masculine and dirty-looking Cain had me sucking in a breath. Damn, this was naughty. And damn, did I love it. My mother would lose her shit if she knew what I was doing right now. I had never quested to be rebellious. That was never the point. I just didn’t care about the same things she did. Though Bella was right—sometimes I got petty. I smiled, feeling more relaxed. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing to have him in my environment. He made all of this seem as ridiculous as I had always thought it was. It was the extended version of false eyelashes.

“I know what that smile means, Little Red,” he said. “Sit there and watch for a minute, then join me.” He brushed past me, his thigh knocking into my hip. Cain bent down and gave me a hard, demanding kiss.

He tasted different. Sweeter. Like fruit. But he was gone, stepping into the shower before I could decipher what exactly it was.

There was a stool that was meant for me to sit on and do my makeup, which I never did, but now I slid it out and perched, wanting a good view. Cain had his head back under the spray of water and was rubbing his neck, his eyes closed. He looked like the shower was the best thing to ever happen to him. That body of his…it still made me tense in awe. I felt desire stirring, the way it always did with him. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have marked him at the bar, the one man who had taken the time to make me feel all of this.

He lathered up his hands and opened his eyes. He held them out to me. “Come here, dirty girl. Do you like what you see?”

I nodded. “Oh, yes. Very much.” I didn’t hesitate. My earlier discomfort at the idea was still there, but I wanted to try it. I wanted to feel his hard, wet body against mine.

I had on jeans and a T-shirt and I stood up and wriggled out of them. He watched me, his eyes narrowed.

“Do you have any idea how hot you are?” he asked.

I undid my bra. “That’s a question that is impossible to respond to,” I told him. “If I say yes, I look arrogant. If I say no, it’s false modesty. I don’t think of myself as ‘hot’ per se, but I am fine with my body. Mostly, I am fine with showing it off to you because I like the way you look at me.”

Cain opened the glass door. “Get in here, you little flirt.”

I realized as I stripped my panties off that I had learned him and his behavior well enough to recognize he was teasing me. That he found my literal explanations cute in some weird way. I stepped into the shower, the spray bouncing off him and hitting my skin, giving me goosebumps. It wasn’t a small shower space at all, yet somehow with him in there, naked, it felt crowded. His leg brushed against mine, his hand dropping to my waist. He leaned in and kissed me, giving a small groan as he pulled away.

“Now this is exactly what I needed today.” His hands were still soapy and he massaged them over my ass, around my hips, up to my breasts.

My heart was racing, from a combination of both excitement and a tinge of fear. Or maybe it was adrenaline. But this was the strangest sensation. The steam, the hot water, the slick glide of his hands foaming with body wash. It was heady, arousing, and I reached down and pulled his cock into my fist and stroked him. He was already fully hard.

We touched, we kissed, we pushed against each other. It was a hot box, just me and him and steam and passion. I briefly wondered how long the hot water would hold out as we continued to grind and pet and kiss.

Finally, he turned and shoved me against the cool tile. “Do you want my cock?”

I nodded, blinking, water sluicing over my hair, down my cheeks. I had no words.

“Say my name,” he urged, lifting my leg to wrap around his hip. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

That seemed so dramatic, so over-the-top, and yet, here, with him, where nothing mattered but skin and sex and him, I didn’t even hesitate. “Fuck me, Cain. Please.”

With the cold tiles on my back, his strong arms holding me up, and his lips buried in my neck, he pushed inside me. I moaned, my head falling back, eyes drifting shut. So much sensation. So much pleasure.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he had been drinking or if he just thought I could handle it now, but he wasn’t holding back. He was going hard, deep. So much so that each thrust took my breath away. All I could do was hang on and let him take me there.

Our orgasms were so close together, they seemed to feed off of each other. Me tight and hot, him exploding. Our eyes locked on each other. My feelings overwhelming.

It went on until I couldn’t look at him anymore, until I felt there was too much of me exposed. We were doing something different now. Something connected. Something further. It was there in the dark, stormy passion of his eyes and in my soft cry of pleasure and intensity. I had cried in front of him. He had told me about his brother. And now it was all there between us, sex and something. Something and sex. He seemed to feel the same way. He broke his gaze at the same time, turning away, wiping his face free of droplets of water.

We breathed loudly in the sudden silence, the water pelting me and the tile the only noise other than us.

After a few seconds Cain pulled out, rinsed out, and cut the stream of water off. “Now, that was a hot shower.”

Legs shaking a little, I reached up and lifted my damp hair off my shoulders and squeezed the ends. It was soaked on one side, but mostly dry on top. “It was,” I murmured. He did things to me, made me feel things that were unexpected. He had a talent for helping me focus on my body, and not on my thoughts. I just felt with Cain and I loved that.

Even now I was just relaxed, satisfied. The consummate cat in the sun, stretching out, purring lazily. I didn’t even want to put actual clothes back on. Stepping out of the shower, I got a towel and wrapped it around myself, handing a second one to Cain. He started drying his hair first, which I appreciated. The face and hair should be dried before any body parts, in my opinion, for hygiene purposes.

I found myself just watching him, amused. This was real. It was so very real. Yet, it was so far removed from my normal life. I wanted to remember this. To dust it off later on and replay every minute with Cain.

After drying himself off, Cain tossed the towel on the floor and tucked my hair behind my ear. “How did you get to be so cute? Huh? Tell me that.”

I almost gave another literal answer, but then I stopped myself. I just smiled and undid my towel. “Can you help me dry off?” I handed the towel to him.

His eyes darkened. “Sure.”

I expected his move to be sexual. But he surprised me by taking the towel, wrapping it around my shoulders, and rubbing it gently, pulling me close to him in a hug. He kissed the top of my head.

And I knew that we had crossed a line.

We weren’t just hooking up.

At least I wasn’t.

---

I was still a little buzzed, but the water had cut through my fogginess and anger. As had Sophie. She had a way about her, something about that straightforward stare, those matter-of-fact words, that calmed me. I had shown up here angry, thinking fucked-up thoughts about taking that kid and running. About finally making my brother pay.

But then there she was, a sweet little spot of no bullshit. No lies. Nothing but honesty. And now she was looking up at me like she thought I was something. A person worth spending time with.

I rubbed the towel over her, softly, tenderly. She made me a jumbled mix of feelings. I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to spank her. I wanted to love her.

Scary shit. Big shit. Shit I didn’t have any business feeling.

So I tried to keep it sexual. I rubbed the towel between her legs. Blew on her nipple to dry it off. I tossed the towel on the floor beside mine. “Am I going to get in trouble for dirtying up this white bathroom?”

The bathroom was ridiculous. I had never seen so much fucking marble outside of a museum. And this was only one bathroom out of how many? I had only glanced around the downstairs, but had seen wide, expansive rooms, and a killer view of the bay. I could picture Sophie’s sister living here. But Sophie didn’t quite fit. Obviously, I stuck out like a sore thumb. Or a drunken, dirty thumb. Sophie didn’t stick out. She just seemed like she was in the wrong setting for her. Like she was a guest.

I had a feeling she felt that way but I didn’t really know. She didn’t share a lot of her personal feelings with me. I was just her fuck buddy. Not a boyfriend.

That was the way it should be.

If I didn’t like that, so the fuck what?

I was in no position to be anyone’s boyfriend, certainly not the virgin girl genius. Or former virgin.

So there was no harm in any of this. No harm in taking as much satisfaction and, hell, comfort from being with Sophie as I could. She made me laugh, something I hadn’t even thought was possible anymore.

In a couple of days she’d get swept fully up in to the wedding activities and that would be that. Maybe down the road, when she was in her forties, and having a midlife crisis, she would tell her girlfriends about the local Mainer who had stunk like fish and fucked her in the shower.

By then I would most likely be dead.

There was a cheerful thought. Make the most of today before I drank myself to an early grave. “I don’t think your mom would like me very much,” I added.

She shrugged. “My mother is mostly disappointed in everything I do.”

That did surprise me. “What? You’re going to Harvard. How could she be disappointed in you?”

Sophie bent over and retrieved her panties and pulled them on. “It’s the whole socially awkward thing. That embarrasses her. She also doesn’t find my sense of humor amusing. It’s okay. I can see her side of it, and I think a lot of parents struggle to understand their children are not extensions of themselves, but whole and separate humans.”

That was an interesting thought. I stepped into my boxer briefs. “I don’t think my mother feels that way. I think she has a very carefree attitude and maybe love that is just a little too unconditional. We’re a bunch of fuckups and she acts like everything is fine.”

I didn’t even think it was a coping mechanism. She was just proud of us, for no apparent reason.

Sophie laughed. She pulled on her T-shirt without her bra first, which made me happy. “Well, that must be nice for you. Love isn’t a bad thing.”

I stuck my head under the faucet to drink again. I had cotton mouth from the wine. “My dad is in prison,” I said as I stood up and rubbed the moisture off my bottom lip. “And when he gets out, for like the tenth time, my mom will take him back. For like the tenth time.”

“What is he in prison for?” she asked, looking scandalized.

“Stealing copper.” I opened the bathroom door. I was getting hot from all the steam lingering after our lengthy soapy shower. This was the cleanest I had felt in a long time. “Is that a balcony?” I asked, pointing to the back of her room. It looked like a slider leading outside.

“Yes.”

“Can we go out there? Is it private?” Fresh air sounded fantastic.

“Yes, it’s private. Well, I mean if Bella comes out on her balcony, she would see us, but she never does. She doesn’t like the way the water sounds.”

That cracked me up. “What? Who doesn’t like the way the water sounds?” Was that even possible?

“Right? And she says I’m the one with weird tics and habits.” Sophie got a satin robe out of her closet and pulled it on. “I’m going to go get you water. I can’t stand to watch you drink from the faucet a third time. I’ll meet you out on the balcony.”

I grinned at her. “Driving you that crazy, huh?”

She nodded. “Yes. I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t.”

She was cute even when she was being OCD. And damn, that honesty. I loved it. It was such a change from my past. “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate the water. And the honesty. And your body.” I gave her a wink.

Sophie rolled her eyes, but her cheeks turned a little pink. “I appreciate your honesty and body too.”

Was I being honest with her? I guessed I was. I had told her about Camp. My father. Christian. Maybe it was easier to offer that when I knew I could trust her responses. I knew she wasn’t manipulating me, playing me, lying to me.

“We’re kind of fucking awesome, aren’t we?” I asked her. I meant that in the most general terms. A joke that we shared a superiority to others.

But Sophie got a strange look on her face. She suddenly turned and just said, “Be right back,” and left the room, pulling it closed behind her.

I went out onto the balcony. It was a little cool, but the air felt good on my hot skin. My head needed clearing. Of booze, of crazy thoughts. Because I was thinking that if the world were a different place, maybe Sophie could be mine.

There were two little chairs placed on the small balcony but I ignored them and went straight to the railing. I leaned on it, taking a deep breath. I could smell the sea. It wasn’t inky black out yet. It was just dusk, and I could see the buildings up and down the coastline. Houses, restaurants, and the huge hotel downtown.

When Sophie came out to join me, she handed me the bottled water and leaned over the railing next to me. “Are you going to put on pants?” she asked.

“Nope.” I took a huge swallow of the water. “Are you?”

“No. Do you like living here?” she asked me. “It seems an interesting place to grow up. I live in a generic suburb.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known. It was pretty cool. I love the water. Unlike your sister.”

“I played soccer for one year,” Sophie said. “It was my mother’s attempt to create conformity in me. If I wasn’t going to be beautiful like Bella, she wanted me to have teammates.” Sophie smiled at me. “I was too obsessed with math to be a soccer star. I was always calculating the angle of the ball when it went into the goal, or trying to make patterns in the grass with the special shoes. In the end, I embarrassed her worse with my behavior than by not being beautiful.”

“Does that bother you? Because your mom kind of sounds like a bitch.” Why wouldn’t she be proud of having a brilliant daughter? I sure would.

“I think it does. I never wanted it to. I feel like it shouldn’t because I’m intelligent enough to recognize the why of her actions. But it does bother me. Little kids want to be accepted. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter though. I like myself.”

“You should,” I said gruffly, touched by her confession. Hey, my mother loved me when maybe she shouldn’t have and I shouldn’t take that for granted. I was lucky to have her. “And I like you too.”

Her head snapped up. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“I know. But you should learn how to take one. I have a feeling that you only know how to accept compliments on your brain, not your person or your character.”

Sophie chewed her bottom lip. “That is probably true. Maybe that’s because I believe in my intelligence. I know I’m smart.”

I shifted a little, turning to lean on my right side so I could see her better. I wanted to ask her if she was going to seek out a boyfriend when she got back to Boston. If she’d be posting her picture on some dating app, where guys would read her comments and totally not understand her. Not get her brilliance, her uniqueness. But I didn’t. Because that would make me seem like a total pussy.

Maybe I was still drunk. Because what I actually said was, “You are the smartest girl I’ve ever met. But you’re also the sweetest and the sexiest. And when you go back to Boston, I’m going to miss you.”

A flash of vulnerability came across her face. And deep pleasure. “Really?”

At the end of the day Sophie was like any other woman. She needed to hear that she was hot. Which she was. It was hard not to touch her. It seemed like once I started, I couldn’t stop. “Really. My cousin was right. You’re special. And I’m hoping that the next time you’re in town, I can see you again. And if you don’t want to, I’m going to kiss you until you change your mind and agree.”

“Sexual blackmail?”

I nodded. “Absolutely. Shit, it’s the only weapon in my arsenal right now. Unless you like fresh-catch lobster.”

Sophie laughed. “Well, I do like shellfish but I think I prefer an orgasm. But I probably won’t be back here until Thanksgiving. My dad likes to have it here.”

“Works for me.” I would be in the same damn place anyway. Working. Drinking. Fucking. Though the last held a lot less appeal now.

Because, as stupid as it was, I liked Sophie. She was wrenching emotion from me without meaning to. She was making me care about something when I hadn’t cared about anything in a long time.

Holding Camp had made me feel raw, like a knife had been plunged into my heart. Being with Sophie plugged all those holes inside me. “Unless you want it to be something more.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

But she knew what I meant. I could see it. Her breathing had changed, her eyes had widened. She was leaning toward me, and she looked like one little word, one simple touch, and she would melt into me like chocolate. I felt heady and powerful and greedy. I wanted Sophie. I wanted to keep her, even if for a little bit. In a little way.

“I mean, let’s sneak around and see each other more while you’re still here. Your mom doesn’t have to know. I’m a good dirty secret.” That was the damn truth. “And when you get back to Boston we can talk. Sext each other.”

“Cambridge. I live in Cambridge.” Her shoulders dropped a little.

“Wherever. Cambridge. We can sext each other.”

She smiled. “You want to sext with me? Do you know how inadequate at sexting I would be? Dirty talk makes me giggle.”

“You’re a liar. That mouth of yours looks amazing wrapped around my cock, you know that?”

“I do like to suck you,” she said, very earnest. “Maybe I could again?”

“Boom.” I gestured to my cock, which had hardened. “See how great you are at that? Dirty talk is your bitch.”

Sophie laughed. “Cain?”

Her voice was soft and sweet and it grabbed me by the balls. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to miss you too.”