Chapter 15

Margot

I wrapped the bathrobe around my torso and tied it off with the fluffy belt, then padded through to the bedroom suite and took a seat on the end of the bed. Cain was on the phone, standing there in nothing but a towel, water droplets snaking down his tan, broad back.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.” He hung up and walked round the bed, sat down beside me.

Our arms touched.

It was comfortable and warm, the opposite of how I’d ever felt with him before.

No more Mr. Wild Side. Or was he simply hiding beneath the surface, waiting to pounce?

I couldn’t associate the word “pounce” with Cain without getting wet. Ha, what did that say about me?

“I ordered waffles,” he said, and took my hand. “I seem to recall someone’s addiction to them. Waffles and chocolate syrup, right? With nuts sprinkled over the top.”

My heart squeezed. “You remembered that?” I looked up at him. I’d mentioned it to him once, years ago when he’d turned up on our doorstep for breakfast before a long day at the tattoo shop for him and school for me.

Cain had dropped out of school. Cain had lost everything before he’d regained it again.

“Of course,” he said and shrugged like it was nothing. He took my hand and stroked his thumb over my knuckles.

God, why did he have to be this tender? Why couldn’t he be the gruff, irresponsible Cain who skydived and put everyone else at risk? Something had changed, and it scared me even more than losing the business scared me.

I couldn’t afford to fall for this man after everything I’d been through with Steven. I couldn’t afford to love again and let it distract me from what really mattered, but sitting here with him, with the view of Tokyo out the window, the lights and buildings, the downtown beauty, and my hand in his, it was so damn hard not to want him as more than just a friend or a fuck.

“Let’s talk,” he said, “before the waffles arrive and you douse yourself in syrup.”

“I’m not that addicted.”

“Pfft, please, the last time I saw you eat waffles, you came out looking like a two-year-old who’d stolen half a chocolate cake.” Another memory—my mom had showed him our photo album and a picture of me smeared in brown stickiness years ago.

The fear in my heart doubled. It threatened to prick holes in my façade, stab me from the inside, right through the chest.

“Besides, I’d like to watch you douse yourself in syrup,” he continued, “if only because I’ll clean it off you with my tongue afterward.”

Oh god. From fear to arousal, it was a heady mix.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked, and swallowed nothing—my mouth had gone completely dry.

“I need you to understand that this isn’t going to progress,” he announced.

“What isn’t?”

“What we have here. It’s never going to be anything more than sex,” he said. “If you can’t deal with that, tell me now, and I’ll walk you back to your hotel room.” Cain kept brushing his thumb over my knuckles.

It shouldn’t hurt. After all, this was what I wanted. We couldn’t afford to be together. We were polar opposites. He was fireworks and insanity, and I was… fuck it, I was chicken noodle soup and hard work.

So why did it sting? Why did it make me want to slap him? Or completely overreact in another way and storm out of here? Leave him sitting here, his perfect abs still dripping water from when we’d made love for a third time not fifteen minutes ago.

“Margot?” Cain’s rumble brought me back.

The annoying teen who I’d obsessed over in private, who I’d masturbated to every night back in school.

“Huh? Oh yeah, that’s totally fine,” I said, and kept my expression straight. “That’s actually what I was going to suggest. I did say that it was a one-night stand the other day.”

“It’s not a one-night stand.”

“Two-night stand?” I forced a grin.

He chuckled, but the mirth didn’t fill the space as it usually did when Cain laughed. Whenever he did anything, it burst from him like he couldn’t control it. Not this time. “More than that. We can be fuck buddies.”

“Wow, that’s so romantic,” I said, and clasped my hands together. “You sure know how to woo a girl. Next you’ll tell me that you’re also fucking my receptionist.”

Cain’s mirth vanished. He gripped my wrist and held it tight. “Don’t ever say that again,” he said. “I wouldn’t touch anyone but you.”

For now.

“I was kidding,” I said, and stuck my tongue out at him for shits and giggles. Except it felt wrong. All of this was wrong. I’d already gone too far with him. “I’m totally fine with fooling around, Cain.” It’s not like we don’t have a lifetime of fucking history to deal with. It’s not like I used to have a crush on you. Not like I compared you to my ex at one point.

I had to stop that shit before it tore me apart. I pulled my wrist from his grip and stood up, walked over to the windows, my reflection walking toward me, paler than I would’ve liked. I kept my face neutral, but my eyes said it all, and that was what I had to hide from him.

This was bullshit! I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want anything but the sex. We were on the same page.

“Just like that?” Cain asked, and shifted off the bed as well. He approached, and appeared behind me in the window, tall, sucking in all the attention in the room, a force I couldn’t hold back. “You don’t want me as more than a fling? I can’t figure out whether that’s a good thing or a type of rejection. What happened to you, that you’re happy to turn me down?” His smirk awoke anger in my gut.

I spun to face him and poked him in the chest. “You’ve got to be the most arrogant man I’ve ever met. Who do you think you are?”

“Cain Foster.” He ran fingers down my cheek. “But you already knew that. You’ve got my love bites on your neck. If you’re not careful, I’ll add some more and spell out my name on your body.” His breath brushed past my ear, and he rested stubble against my skin, scratched it. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? To be mine.”

I leaned into him, squeezed my eyes shut for a minute and breathed him in. “No,” I said, then stepped back and around him, walked toward the sofa positioned in front of the flat screen TV on the wall. I plunked down and grabbed for the remote.

Cain followed me and sat down too. “No,” he said. “You never were a good liar, Margot, unless it was to yourself.”

“Cain, just stop, all right? I’m happy with the arrangement. I’m definitely not interested in anything more with anyone, right now. It’s too complicated to get into,” I said, and clicked on the TV, turned down the sudden blare of sound from it.

A game show filled the screen, two contestants standing on either side of a podium, each holding what appeared to be a bowl of live insects. What the heck?

“Too complicated?” Apparently, he wouldn’t let this go.

I muted the TV, sighed, then turned to him. “Yes. I’ve got priorities, as I’m sure you know. I’ve got a shop to run and now, a TV show. I mean, things aren’t exactly all clear for me to do whatever I want. I told you about Jemma and my mom, and that’s just—well, I’ll never have the chance to be with anyone.”

Cain took the remote from me and placed it on the coffee table, then slipped my hand into his, squeezed. “I’m saying this as a friend, Margot, not a, I don’t fucking know, a lover. If you let responsibility hold you back all your life, you’ll end up incredibly unhappy. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Cain, responsibilities are a necessary part of existence, not that I’d expect you to understand that or anything.”

“Ouch,” he said, and feigned getting shot in the heart. “Seriously, you’ve got to find the balance between responsibility and enjoying your life or you’ll burn yourself out.”

It sounded so much like something my father had told me mere months before he’d passed. He’d been sick, in bed, surrounded by tubes and machines, and he’d drawn me close and whispered that I had to live, that I should live the life I deserved, not the one I thought I deserved.

Wow, great, another lump in my throat. “It’s not just responsibility,” I said. “I’m not into that type of thing, is all.”

“Right,” he said, and rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care? I mean, you said we’re only a—I don’t know, a temporary fuck situation, why do you care if I want a relationship or not? It shouldn’t matter.”

“Because you deserve the best, Margot, and even if I can’t give it to you, I want you to be able to open up to someone else who can. As a friend, I’m concerned. Who burned you?”

Apart from you, you mean?

I opened my mouth and snapped it shut again. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about my past. It wasn’t easy to talk about. I’d already buried all those emotions deep, and I wouldn’t dig them out again just so Cain could dissect them and tell me I had to let go of all the baggage.

I wasn’t ready to let go of the baggage. Just like I wasn’t ready to accept all the tingles that spread through me at Cain’s hand on mine.

“Margot,” he said.

A knock rattled at the hotel room door and this time, my smile was genuine. “The waffles are here!” I jumped off the sofa, dropped his hand, and hurried toward the entrance, putting distance between us physically and emotionally.

This was the way it was meant to be.

Tomorrow, when we headed back to Chicago and the shop, things would get back to normal. For now? I’d enjoy the chocolate syrup and Cain’s company.

Simple.

Yeah, right.