Mara

 

Christ, why the hell was I doing this?

I knew why, of course. The number on the piece of paper that Cade had passed to me was actually double what I’d thought it might be, and the idea of that price increasing made me dizzy. Even Shannon, the one who was most reluctant to sell the house, had nodded and said that I should at least go with Cade and hear him out.

"I don't think it will do any harm to learn more about what he's offering," Shannon had said. "But if you have the least doubts, Mara, don't worry about saying no. We'll figure something else out."

The problem was, of course, that I was less worried about what Cade was selling than I was about Cade himself. In the last three nights leading up to the day we’d agreed to meet again, I had found myself troubled with dreams. I'm not much of a dreamer, usually. I just close my eyes and wake up again after seven or eight hours. The last few nights, though, I had woken up with a head full of Cade. We had never gotten much beyond some fairly fevered groping and some very good kissing, but my dreams were far more explicit. I dreamed about him naked, I dreamed about how he might look at me naked, I dreamed about touching and kissing a lot more than we ever had before.

This morning, though, I had woken up from one of the strangest dreams. I had been moving through a fog, and I was calling Cade's name. The only sound that came back to me in that strange and unpleasant place, however, was an echo of my own voice. By the end of the dream, I had simply sat down on the ground to cry.

I was restless all day, and when seven o'clock rolled around, I felt like I was wound tighter than a spring. It might have been easier if Shannon was willing to come with me, but she begged off, deciding to stay home and do some touch-up painting in the living room.

At seven sharp, Cade texted to let me know that he was here, and when I walked out, he opened the car door for me, smiling a little.

"The garage still has your car?" he asked.

"Yeah. They'll be done by tomorrow at least."

"Good." He paused, and when he spoke, there was a touch of reluctance to his tone. "I'm glad to see you, Mara, though I'm sorry your car had to take a header into a ditch to make it happen."

"You know, it's funny, I thought about contacting you on Facebook a couple times. Do you know it recommends you to me sometimes?"

Cade blinked.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's freaky. Sometimes I'll be talking with a friend about who knows what, and then there's your face."

"Why did you never try saying hello?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "I guess I thought we were too different, or that too much time had passed. Something."

"And now?"

"And now I know even less. I still feel this...anger surrounding you." There had always been something about Cade that made me feel like I could just tell him whatever was on my mind. It looked like that, at least, hadn’t changed.

"I'm not angry at you," he said too quickly, and I shrugged.

"Let's see what you want to show me. Your great vision."

It was safer to talk about houses and visions. It was too easy to stray from the safe topics and to venture into territory that was too dark by far, and the more conversations I had with him, the easier it became.

We talked a bit about human migration patterns and the need for comfort wherever one lived, but then suddenly Cade said something that startled me.

"Do you remember the Driscoll’s old place?"

"I do," I said. "That was abandoned when we were kids, right? And then some kind of cult moved in?"

"They weren't really a cult, just a bunch of hippies who wanted to have a good time. The lady who owned the house finally got sober, and after she started a nice quiet life in Anaheim, she wanted to sell out. I picked up this property a while back, and it's a perfect representation of what I'm thinking might be in store for White Pines.”

The neighborhood around the Driscoll place was older than the area around my grandma's house. There was a lot of lawn around the houses, and they were a bit larger, a bit grander. To my surprise, when we pulled up into the driveway, the house was lit up from the inside and the porch lights were on as well.

"Cade, does someone live here right now? Are we interrupting some poor family at dinner?"

"Relax. No, no one lives out here. I worked with a designer after we got the house back to code. It was fun, in a weird way. We wanted to be able to show people what they could have in White Pines, what their families could have. Come on."

Almost instinctively, he took my hand as we walked up the sidewalk to the front door. It made sense, I thought. The night was getting chillier, and our breath made plumes of steam in the cold air. He unlocked the door, and for a strange moment, I had a vision of him carrying me over the threshold like a new bride.

He took my coat, and as he led me into the living room, I looked around in surprise.

"Oh, Cade," I murmured.

It was like something out of a storybook. When he had described a display house, I had thought of something sleek and obviously designed by professionals. I imagined textiles from across the world and exotic woods. That would have made sense, and that would have been very attractive to a certain kind of wealthy investor or buyer.

Instead, this felt like a place a family lived. The furniture was harmonious but mismatched, and there was just a touch of wear on everything, making it look very well loved. The rug on the ground was felted wool of the same kind that my grandmother had, and there was a single pane of stained glass looking into the dining room, perfect and lovely.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" asked Cade. "The girl I got to do this is a wonder. She does a lot of antique sales, estate sales, and she can create just about anything..."

"It's definitely beautiful," I said hesitantly, and Cade cocked his head at me.

"But?"

"Let me see the rest," I said. "Let me see this Cade Lowell holiday vision."

He shrugged and led me on a tour of the house. Every room was like the living room: beautifully furnished and looking like a happy family had simply stepped out for a minute, perhaps to see the lights along Main Street. As we walked through the house though, I could feel something squeezing at my heart. I'm pretty tough about most things, but something about the house with its beautiful homey touches made me want to cry.

"So?" he asked in the living room again. "What do you think?"

"So this is what you want to sell to people? Fake happiness?"

He blinked at me, narrowing his eyes.

"This isn't fake, Mara," he said. "The families that will come here to stay are real. This is a setting for them, a place for them to have a good holiday trip. A happy, memorable holiday."

I wanted to ask Cade then if he had dreamed of houses like this when he was kid; if he had hoped and prayed that he would have a place that was as calm and as beautiful. It would have been the cruelest thing in the world to ask, because I knew that the answer would be yes.

"This feels strange to me," I said, my voice a little gentler. "I can't imagine someone moving right in and deciding that this is okay for a week or two weeks or a few months and then just leaving."

"Well, of course you wouldn't be okay with it," he said. "This place was never designed for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" I asked. "What do you mean by that?"

Cade grinned a little, sideways and crooked, and I felt my heart beat a little faster. God, that he could do this to me after all this time was downright unfair.

"You thought you were going to go to college, settle down somewhere and have a family—do all the right things. Instead you ran all the way to Atlanta to work in magazines. Even your version of rebellion was practical. I know there has to be something else you yearn for, some other reason you felt the need to upend your life and do away with your careful plans. What is it, Mara? Do you want to be in a band? Do you paint? Something about you has always struck me as artistic..."

"A novel," I said, a little nettled. "I haven't told my sisters about it."

But I had told him. There was something oddly right about it.

"Right, a novel. Whether we had this growing up or not, it's not something we need. I don't know if the people who like it need it or not either. I know that they want it. They'll be pretending too."

"And what will they be pretending?" I asked. There was something oddly magical about this place; the soft way that Cade was talking, the warmth of the house after the harsh cold outside. Whatever kind of magic it was, no matter how artificial or how strange, I took a step closer, wanting to embrace it.

Cade looked around, and if there was any part of him that was sad not to have had this kind of life for real, he didn't show it.

"Oh, any number of things," he said. "I mean, if I used this as my getaway, I would be thinking that I’d never left White Pines at all, and that there was some alternate reality where that had turned out all right. Maybe I got a decent job somewhere close by, up at eight, home by six, steady work, good money. And of course, it would all be worth it because I’d get to come home to this."

I nodded, because I could see where he was going with this. Hell, I had felt the tug of it myself from time to time.

"And I would’ve moved up here after college instead of going to Atlanta. Might have gotten a library science degree and when Mrs. Penske retired—"

"She'll never retire. She'll die behind the desk and then her ghost will run that place," Cade interjected, and I shushed him.

"Fantasy, remember? When Mrs. Penske retired, I took over for her. I love running the summer reading program, and every day I help people find the books they know they're going to love."

Cade took a step closer to me.

"Is that what would make you happy?" he asked huskily. "Finding people the books they would love to read?"

I laughed a little self-consciously. What was it about this man that made me want to bare everything?

"Sort of. At least, I think I would enjoy it. As to what would make me really happy? Maybe publishing my novel."

I expected Cade to express polite interest, or, if he was feeling a little mean, to laugh. Instead, his face lit up as if Christmas had come early.

"Really? You have a novel already? Is it something you're letting people read yet?"

"I...almost. I almost have a novel. I'm maybe forty or fifty pages from the end. Something like that? I... You can read it if you want."

"That would be our first fight," Cade said with a laugh. "I want you to take more time off from the library to work on your novel,” he said in a serious voice, playacting as if this fantasy were real.

"And I think that it's way better to go into the Christmas season with money to spend. We have a lot of family, both of us."

We really didn't. Cade had been on his own since long before it was appropriate, and I really only had my sisters. The thought sent a pang through me, but it also made me remember that little Chloe was pregnant and probably getting married soon, if the looks between her and Alex were anything to go by.

Cade shook his head, slightly rueful as he looked around. He had been the one to create all of this, but the reality was as distant for him as it was for me.

"So it seems we even fight in fantasy land," he mused.

There was something melancholy about it, so sad that I came up behind him. He startled a little when I wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my cheek between his shoulders. He was taller than I was, a full six feet to my own five-eight, but he was so much broader and stronger. I fit against him perfectly.

"That's life, here or in fantasy land. If we never fought, were never angry with one another, or if we never had anything to work out, how would we ever know when things between us were really, really good?"

"You think times would be really, really good, Mara?"

"Sure. Here in fantasy land, anyway."

He turned, and I wondered if I had made a mistake. It had seemed companionable, even sweet, when I came up to hug him from behind. When he turned around, however, there was something much more intimate about it. He was so close to me, and I could feel his warmth reaching out to me even through our clothes. It was as if we were burning for each other, and I wondered about fate and inevitability.

"In fantasy land, fights end with a kiss," he said, his voice unsteady.

I knew that the smart thing to do would have been to back off, to laugh and end the silly game we were playing. We had been too old to play house even back when we met as teens, and we were far too old for it now. As adults, we understood consequences and chemistry, and we should have been more wary of heartbreak and hopeless entanglements.

"Well, I hate to break the laws of fantasy land," I murmured, and I tilted my face up for his kiss.

It was no chaste peck on the cheek that he gave me. Instead, his powerful arms went around me, drawing me crushingly close, and his lips captured mine with a nearly ravenous hunger. With that kiss, in a single moment, my inhibitions fell away from me, and I knew the only thing that mattered in that moment was what I felt in Cade's arms, what he could make me feel.

He kissed me as if the world was coming to an end, and before I even knew I had done it, I had wrapped my arms around him, drawing him as close as I could. He reached up to cradle my cheek with his hand and turned my head slightly, seeking the sensitive skin close to my ear. When he latched his teeth into my earlobe, I gasped, but I couldn't stop myself from pressing close against him, feeling helpless and squirming against him in desperation.

"This is entirely too much clothing," he gasped, pulling away, and it was the smartest thing I’d ever heard. What followed was an ungraceful shedding of our winter clothes. They were dropped on the floor like fallen autumn leaves, and our frantic pace only slowed once we were both naked. Then we stopped entirely, our eyes greedily taking each other in for a minute.

Cade had filled out since I had last seen him, and I had never seen him naked then. His body was corded with muscle, and a thin trail of dark hair ran past his navel, stopping just short of his cock. My eyes widened when I saw his erection, already hard for me and jutting away from his body.

I wondered how he would see me. I wasn't seventeen anymore. There were stretch marks and scars, all the marks a decade could bring. If I had any fears about what he might have thought, however, they were banished by the look of utter worship in his eyes.

"God, princess, you're gorgeous," he breathed, and then we were back in each other's arms. This time, I could feel his erection pressed against me like a burning brand, so hot that I couldn't resist taking it in my hand, circling him with my fingers before drawing on the velvety skin.

Cade groaned, burying his face in my hair. He thrust into my hand with an abrupt motion that felt just short of desperate. I thought he might take me right then, throwing me to the ground, but he pulled away.

"Hey!" I cried out. It was his right to stop this madness if he wished to do so, but at that point, I couldn't even pretend not to be heartbroken over it.

"If you keep that up, I'm just going to bend you over the dining room table and take you," he said roughly.

"I really fail to see the problem with that—"I began, but then yelped as he scooped me up in his arms, bridal style. I had always thought I would be too ungainly for anyone to carry like that, but my arms naturally went around his neck, and I knew he wouldn't drop me, not in a million years.

"I have a better idea than that," Cade said, and he carried me to the master bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, the master bedroom was decorated with an eye toward care and comfort. When Cade flicked on the small lamp on the dresser, the room was bathed in an amber light that revealed an enormous bed, made up with crisp green-striped sheets and a cozy blanket folded neatly at the foot. It looked like the perfect place to sleep away a cold winter night, but the last thing I was thinking about right then was sleep.

When Cade set me down on the bed, he didn't join me right away. Instead he stood back to look at me, and I looked back at him. There was something solemn about that moment. It felt as if we had created more than just a fantasy land; as if we were actually in some other world, some place where he had never left me behind, where I had never refused to come with him.

"I think I have compared every woman I’ve ever been with to you," he said finally, and I shook my head.

"Unkind," I murmured, "but maybe I know what you mean."

When Cade finally joined me on the bed, he moved more slowly. His kisses, though still passionate enough to singe, took on a considering quality. He was learning my body intimately, using his mouth, his hands, his tongue—and he would not be rushed. When I tried to reach for him, he pushed me back onto the bed.

"Later," he muttered thickly. "Right now, I just want to savor you..."

I couldn't keep my hands off of him entirely. Instead, I threaded my fingers through his dark hair, tugging gently when he hit just the right spot. I whimpered when he reached my nipples, tugging gently on the peaks with just the right combination of pressure and sweetness.

His clever tongue licked a path from my sternum to my navel, and then he was nuzzling between my legs, lapping at my folds until my body opened for him as naturally as a flower would for the sun. About that point, all metaphors deserted me as he spread me open and started to lick for real.

I had never really cared for this act all that much, but on the bare edges of my consciousness, I wondered if it was because I had never met a man who enjoyed it as much as Cade appeared to. There was nothing tentative about the way he devoured me, nothing shy or cautious. Instead, he lapped fiercely at my clit while plunging a finger partway into me, withdrawing and then repeating that motion. When my hips bucked up against that sudden shock of pleasure, his free arm clamped over them, holding me still so he could do whatever he wanted with me. Apparently what he wanted was to make me shout.

My fingers tightened in his hair. I must have come close to yanking some out, but somehow I stopped myself. My heels dug into the mattress underneath me, craving more, but Cade was on his own time. He wanted to make me feel good, and he was utterly single-minded in the pursuit of his goal.

The pleasure washed over, leaving me shaking, but it all felt so good that a sudden spike of it caught me by surprise. It rose up and up in the core of me, drawing me tight, and I managed to find my words.

"Cade...Cade, if you don't stop, I'm going to..."

Cade laughed, and somehow I could feel the vibrations through my body, which only added to the sweet fire that coursed through me.

"Why the hell would I ever want to stop?" he asked, and then he lowered his head again.

There was a part of me that wanted to hold out. I wanted this pleasure to last, but Cade wasn't having it. He drove me higher and higher until I hit that peak, and then I was falling. I heard myself cry out, and it seemed as if every muscle in my body was tightening. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn't get away from the pleasure he was giving me. Instead, all I could do was allow it to take me.

I was only starting to come back to my body when Cade came to lie down next to me. I tried to shape some kind of question in my head, but then he pulled me on top of him. There was a roughness to his actions that told me he had been holding off for quite some time, and now he simply couldn't hold back. His strong hands clamped over my hips, and he lifted me as easily as a feather. I braced my hands on his chest, marveling at his strength, and together we guided me down on top of him. Just feeling the tip of his cock at my entrance made me whimper a little, and when he was fully sheathed inside me, I cried out with pleasure again.

"Oh my god," I murmured, and he stilled, looking up at me.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice harsh with need. I knew he would stop if I needed him to, but right then that was the farthest thing from my mind.

"Yes. Oh yes, Cade, I just need you...so much..."

He groaned at my words, and his hands tightened reflexively on my hips. He drew me back up for a moment, and then he plunged into me full length again, making us both cry out in pleasure.

He moved like a man driven insane with need, lifting me as if I was made just for him, just for his pleasure. I couldn't stop myself from moving with him, urging him onward with every sound that I made.

There was no one in the world who had ever felt as good as Cade did right then, and after the thunderous climax he had brought me, I longed to give him the same pleasure.

I felt the low tremors start in his body, perhaps even before he did. I raised and lowered myself over him more quickly, with more force. A thin sheen of sweat covered me, allowing us to slide against each other with ease.

Cade's eyes opened suddenly, dark and wild.

"Not going to let you go again," he growled, and then with a roar, he pressed inside me one last time, shaking hard. I closed my eyes, feeling every bit of him, and I knew that I had never stopped loving Cade. Not really.