Cayden
Cayden took a long pull of the amber colored liquid, draining the last drop from the tumbler sitting on the bar in front of him before gesturing for another. He waited impatiently for the bartender to pour him another glass of bourbon before taking another deep drink. But not even the warmth of the liquor sweeping through him could dull the sharp edge off the frustration eating him up from the inside out.
He’d been sitting at the bar of the hotel for over an hour trying to drink away the bad taste left in his mouth after Sophie’s reaction. He just didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. He could charm any woman, at least into an innocent drink if not into something slightly less innocent.
Cayden smirked at the thought as he took another sip, but it fell as memories of Sophie surfaced. For years now he'd been trying to get her into bed. This weekend had seemed like the perfect chance to scratch the itch that had been plaguing him since the first time he saw her. They would be alone, no colleagues, no friends. Just them.
He threw back another shot before giving a bitter grimace, at his dashed hopes of anything happening between them or the alcohol he wasn’t sure. The woman was infuriating, plain and simple.
As Cayden drained his second drink, his cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts for a moment but he nearly groaned as he glanced at the screen and saw who it was. It was his pops. With a slight feeling of guilt, he let it ring without answering.
It wasn't the first time that week that he'd ignored a call from his dad, but their relationship was strained to say the least. He knew the old man was more than likely calling to rag on him some more about throwing away his dreams of being in the NFL so that he could write.
Pops always said it like it was a bad thing, something dirty. My son is a writer. He writes. Like it was something to be ashamed of. Cayden had played football all through high school, even getting a sports scholarship to the University of Maryland. He’d always been good at playing the game, and even if he didn’t get as excited about it as his parents, he did love the perks. The notoriety. The cheerleaders. Any girl he wanted.
But then it had happened. The first game of his sophomore year of college as the starting quarterback and he'd taken a bruising hit, torn his ACL. He'd been ready to give in then, to leave it all behind but he knew it was his folks’ dream for him to play pro. It always had been. Football was the only thing him, and his father ever could talk about. It was the only thing he’d ever known.
Cayden sighed, nodding in thanks as the bartender brought him a new fresh drink. Midway into his second year, after months of grueling, agonizing physical therapy he was finally cleared to get back on the field. But he never played the same after that. He was slower, more cautious, and it had cost him more than a few plays.
The spark had gone from the game. He was just there because he didn't know anything else. He'd always been the jock, the star football player. He didn't know how to be anything else. But still he played hard, he practiced hard. And exactly eight months after his first injury, he tore his ACL again.
The agony had blinded him. It had felt like his whole leg had just gone up in flames. His parents told him it was just part of the game. They'd said that injuries were typical. And he went through another painful round of surgery and physical therapy. Cayden also realized something else then. Playing for the NFL had always been his parents’ dream, not his.
Eventually he recovered, regained his strength. The worst day of his life up until that point had been the day he told his parents he was quitting football. They’d sat there, giving him a blank stare, silence ringing loud and sharp in the air.
He remembered pop’s baffled question. So, what are you going to do instead? And he also remembered the way the old man’s expression morphed from confusion to disbelief to disgust when he told them he had enrolled in English and journalism courses. He wanted to be a writer. They weren’t exactly close after that, but Cayden realized they never really had been. He’d been living out their dreams for him like a good little boy, but they’d never truly been his dreams.
He’d graduated with his degree in Journalism and had gotten a position at the World News through one of his professors. It had caused a rift between him and his parents, but he truly loved to write. He loved to get to the bottom of the story, to uncover the truth and share it with the rest of the world. That was his dream.
Cayden loved his job, and as he took another sip of the bourbon in front of him, a wave of confidence rolled through him. That senior writing position was all but his. He knew that Harry had just sent them on this ‘job’ to make it look fair for Sophie, but as much as he respected her as a journalist, there was just no way she would get the job over him. He’d worked damned hard for the newspaper. He deserved that promotion more than anyone else.
The buzz of his cell phone ringing drew his attention once more, and he automatically moved to turn it off, thinking it was another call from his dad but stopped as he caught the name on the caller ID.
With a grin spreading across his face, he answered the phone and held it to his ear.
“Brad! Hey man, what’s up?” Cayden said jovially. Brad Doyle was one of his closest friends and worked in the editorial department of the newspaper. He was also always good for a laugh. “I’m glad you called.”
"Really? I was sure you'd be busy if you know what I mean." Cayden rolled his eyes good naturedly at the innuendo in his friend's voice.
“Sorry to tell you, I am not busy at all at the moment. Just sitting at the hotel bar solo, I'm afraid."
“Bummer,” Brad said, commiserating, “That’s sad, man. You’re in D.C. There’s tons of hot chicks and the company’s footing the bill. You’re wasting a golden opportunity.”
Cayden shook his head. “Well, there is this one…”
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
“You know her. She works with us at the paper–.”
"Aw, come on, Ray. Sophie? Sophie Stone? Really? How you can still be hung up on her is beyond me.” Brad interrupted. “She is not your type.”
“What do you mean, not my type?” Cayden demanded, “She gorgeous, smart, a damn good journalist–.”
“Yeah, and she’s never going to sleep with you. Which is kind of your thing.”
“What do you mean, my thing?”
“This conversation is getting repetitive, bro,” Brad huffed, “I have it on pretty good authority that Sophie isn’t going to just jump into bed with any bloke who offers. Or any bloke at all, if you know what I mean.”
“What, she…is she into girls?” Cayden asked, the alcohol starting to muddle his thoughts. “That would explain why she’s immune to my charms.”
“No, you idiot. She was engaged, remember?” Brad said, and Cayden could hear his friend’s frustration across the line, “I overheard Sophie and that hot photographer–.”
“Blair.” Cayden interrupted to correct.
"Right, well I overheard Sophie and Blair talking about her ex, and I heard Sophie say that she’s still a virgin, and that’s why they broke it off. Something about her ex having to find satisfaction elsewhere.”
Brad was still talking, but his words had triggered something deep inside Cayden, and he couldn't focus on what his friend was saying.
“Yo, Cay, are you still there?” Brad said, interrupting the visions that were suddenly dancing through his head.
"Yeah, um, I got to go. Talk to you later." Cayden didn't give Brad a chance to say anything else before hanging up the line, his thoughts entirely focused on one thing and one thing only. Sophie Stone was a virgin.
He’d had his suspicions but something about knowing had lust raging through him until he had to shift on the suddenly uncomfortable bar stool. The thought of her upstairs in her hotel room, alone, untouched, sent a tidal wave of desire stronger than anything he’d felt in a long time. Longer than he cared to remember.
He would love to be the one to introduce her to the world of sensual pleasure. The first one to hear her cries. The first one to make her scream.
With a start, Cayden lurched to his feet, threw a handful of bills on the bar and left. It wasn’t until he was headed towards the elevator that he realized where he was going. Sophie’s room. He’d been standing behind her when she checked in, even though she’d tried to ignore him and he’d caught her room number as the hostess had given her the key card.
Cayden didn’t let himself think until he was standing in front of her door, his hand raised to knock on the dark stained wood. Should he go through with this? He wasn't really worried about Sophie being competition for the promotion. He knew just how good of a journalist he was. The best.
He could admit, at least to himself, that Sophie was good too. Dedicated to her job and a talented writer. But that didn’t change the fact that the senior writing position had his name all over it, and had for years. Maybe, once Harry broke the news to her, he would be there to console her.
With that image playing on a loop in his head, Cayden reached out and let his knuckles fall against the door, the loud knock ringing through the otherwise empty hallway. A sound of rustling fabric met his ears, and a moment later he could hear footsteps drawing closer to the door.
Sudden panicked filled him. What the hell was he going to say? He was known for charming women, he thought in exasperation, and I’m afraid to talk to one little reporter. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I fucking nervous?
For one, brief moment, he even considered turning and walking away, but then the door was opening. Cayden's eyes widened as he drank in the sight of her. She stood there in tiny cotton shorts that rode high up on her thigh and left miles of long, shapely legs bare to his view. Legs that were all too easy to imagine wrapped around his hips.
It took him a long moment to drag his gaze upward, and he nearly groaned in desperation as he did. Sophie was wearing a pale blue tank top with no bra underneath, and it left nothing to the imagination.
It was too much. It was all too much. Something inside him broke, and before he realized his feet were even moving, Cayden was suddenly standing in front of her, pressing his body tight against her delicious curves as his lips crashed against hers. He couldn't stop himself. A dam had broken somewhere deep inside him, and he was helpless against the wave of desire that threatened to drown him.
He was waiting for the inevitable slap. Waited for Sophie to push him away like she always did, to turn him down, to deny the chemistry between them. But it never came. Instead, he felt her melt against him, her mouth angling even harder to deepen the kiss and he nearly howled as pleasure swamped him. Damn, she was going to kill him, one way or the other. He was sure of it.