Country Kisses (3:AM Kisses #8) Read online

  His knee softly grazes over mine once again. “If you want, we can hit dinner tonight.”

  “Sounds too much like a date,” I say, pulling out my notebook, my fingers trembling as if I were about to wire a bomb. Everything about Cade James feels like an explosive waiting to go off in my face.

  “Swing by whenever—after eight would be perfect. As soon as you knock, I’ll put Buddy in his room. I still owe you from the other night.” He taps his fingers over mine, and my right hand burns in his wake. “I’d hate to leave the impression that I’m nothing but a taker.”

  The professor starts his dissertation on the merits of advertising in this golden age of technology, but I can’t understand a word that follows that sentence. All I can focus on is the fact Cade’s knee is still solidly welded to mine, and my entire body is wracked with wanting from that simple, heated touch.

  All I can think about the entire livelong day is the fact Cade James is out to disprove the fact he’s nothing but a taker.

  Evening rolls around, and I shower and shave in all the right places, lotion and potion up until I’m one in the same with a field full of strawberries just this side of heaven. Piper comes in with that silly grin she falls asleep with nightly after her “special time” with Owen. I don’t know why that girl hasn’t taken up residency in his apartment yet. I wouldn’t blame her in the least for wanting to wake up with that big boulder of a man ready and willing to gift her all of his rock-hard attention—not that I believe in shacking up. That’s just not the way I was raised, but I do believe in true love, and I know for a Bible-thumping fact that both Owen and Piper are a forever kind of deal. Now, I don’t necessarily believe in what I’m doing either, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m just headed over to pay a visit to the down-and-dirty James so he can make good on that favor he owes me.

  “Look at you!” Piper’s eyes round out with what I’m hoping is a lot more awe and a lot less horror as she takes me in from head to foot. I’ve tucked myself into a short white sweater dress with my thigh-high creamy boots rising to meet the hemline. “Where the hell do you think you’re going dressed like that?”

  “None of your business.” I pull on my snow-white wool coat that hugs my curves like a second skin and quickly dab on a little more nude color to my lips. I was about to go for my traditional gloss, but I have no intention of gifting him sticky kisses. Lord knows I’m about to take a generous bite of that city boy’s big apple. No need to scare him off with suction cups for lips.

  I reach over and pick up the pièce de résistance, my granny Mimi’s rhinestone barrette with a sprinkling of garnet stones creating a half-moon over the top, and clip it next to my ear. “There.” I give myself a tiny bow in the mirror.

  “You’re going to see him again, aren’t you?” She folds her arms over her chest with the hard tone of disapproval coming through loud and clear. “Oh my shit! You’re seeing this person!”

  “No, I’m not.” I’m quick to refute it. “I’m not seeing anyone. I’m headed to a study group for my marketing class.” Sort of true when you think about it. So, what if we’re going to have a rather moaning, groaning study sesh until about three in the morning? It’s nobody’s darn business, especially not his irate baby sister’s, pouting like a two-year-old before me. “You know I’m all about getting into business for myself. I need to take these things seriously.” I continue to primp mercilessly in the mirror, sweeping a brush full of powder across the left side of my face again and again as if it were the exact soothing rhythm I needed to fixate on to get me through the rest of this night. “I plan on hitting the ground running come graduation.” Something else is about to come long before graduation—and that would be me.

  “Sounds fine and dandy.” She gives an exaggerated shrug. “Too bad it’s only half the truth.”

  I smirk at the pied Piper herself. So, what if it’s just half the truth? Who is she to refute what I say?

  Piper reaches over and envelops me in nice, firm hug. “Whoever this guy is, he’d better be worth it. If he breaks my best friend’s heart, there will be hell to pay. I’ll make sure of that myself.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whimper into her shoulder. That’s about as close as I’ll ever get to an admission.

  “Sorry about what?” She pulls back to get a better look at me and wipes a lone tear from my eye.

  “For all those mean things you force me to say about you.”

  “Please.” She clicks her tongue. “I’ve never heard a single one of them.”

  “That’s because they’re all in here.” I tap the side of my head as I run out the door.

  “Get out of here, you tramp!” Piper howls with laughter as she shouts after me. “You’d better run, or I just might follow you!”

  Holy crap. I hightail it as fast as I can and jump into my car. I do an extra revolution around campus just to make sure any of my well-meaning besties aren’t in hot pursuit en route to keeping vaginal tabs on yours truly before I head over to Cade’s. I park a half-block away, under the shadowed protection of a one hundred-year-old acacia tree and take a deep, cleansing breath before I open my door.

  My mother always says, you can never be too safe or too sorry. I’m pretty sure her country wisdom wasn’t bottled up to be poured out on the night I drive over to sleep with a boy just for the fun of it. But that boy has a debt to pay, and there’s not a soul on the planet who can stop me from collecting.

  Cade James’s rental home is small, quaint, I believe the word in the real estate world is, and cozy. That’s what my momma has done for the last sixteen years in the time post-Daddy— sell quaint, cozy houses to young couples not too much older than myself who can hardly afford to keep them. And that is how the American dream works, she laments whenever she closes a sale by the sweat of her penciled-in brow.

  My hand trembles midair as I’m about to either knock or run like hell. For a brief second, I envision what Caila might do. I know some people envision what the Almighty would do in any given situation, but I’ve all but programmed myself to think about the things my gutsy sister would make happen, especially whenever it comes to the penis-wielding gender.

  My knuckles connect with the hard, cold wood before I can think. Every muscle in my body knows what that girl would do.

  The door swings open just enough, revealing a hotter than a grease fire Cade James wearing not much more than that dirty little grin from what flesh I can see.

  My head tilts left out of habit. “Are you indecent?” I lay it on thick as gravy. Just watching his pupils dilate is worth the price of admission.

  “I’m always indecent.” His grin twitches. “Buddy is in his room. The coast is clear, I promise.” He ushers me inside, and my entire body slaps with heat as I drink him down with my gaze.

  “Good Lord.” My head cranes so severely to the left I’m forced to take him in with a side-eye. Cade’s well-chiseled body drips wet, with nothing more than a fuzzy white towel wrapped just beneath his six-pack—scratch that. Make that eight. He pushes the door shut and lifts the edge of his towel like a threat.

  “I haven’t dried off completely. Would you mind?” There’s a note of sweetness in his tone, but it’s buried under boiling layers of lust and enough sexual frustration to blow the roof off every house in a fifty-state radius.

  “Well, I’d hate for you to catch a cold.” I drop my purse and evict the towel from his waist, nothing but his knife-sharp body staring back at me. Holy, holy. I can’t even get another thought out without dropping my gaze to his most prized possession, and I can plainly see why he values his man parts so very much. I clear my throat just enough. “I can see the big trio is happy to see me.” His erection rises like a military salute.

  “Every last part of me is happy to see you.” Cade steps in and removes my jacket before gingerly landing it on the sofa. His gaze rides up and down my body, over and over, as if he were starting to malfunction. “You look too beautiful to unwrap.”

  “Did you say unwrap? It
wouldn’t be your birthday, would it?” I tease, pulling him in by the finger.

  “Last month.”

  “Happy belated birthday, Cade James. What do you say we take this party into the bedroom, and I can give you something special to open?” My leg rides up and down his thigh as he moans into the proposition. “Me—like a flower.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He steals a kiss from behind my ear, and my insides turn to pudding.

  I take a step toward the hall, threading his fingers through mine. “You’d better get that party hat ready. It’s time to have some good, clean fun.”

  His eyes are still lost somewhere between my cleavage and my boots. “I prefer it a little dirty if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, big boy. We’re celebrating your big day.” Before I can get another word out, Cade has me down the hall to his bedroom. It’s dark inside, smells cleaner—not that it didn’t before—but this time, there’s a distinct after scent of disinfectant. The comforter is rolled back neatly, and the sheets feel cool and crisp to the touch. They’re either brand spanking new or recently washed, I can’t tell which. “You didn’t have to go all out like this.” I giggle as he takes a gentle bite out of my neck.

  “Like what?”

  “The shower, the sheets, the lemon oil you used to dust the woodwork, the whatever it is with a hint of a pine eating up my sinuses. Really, I’m not worthy.” I give a soft laugh as I pull him over me in the dark. “Save it for the Queen of England.”

  Now, it’s his chest rumbling with a laugh. “Oh, honey, you’re worthy. And trust me, I wouldn’t bother for the queen. I’d much rather have you in this bed.” He helps me to my knees and peels my sweater dress off, plucks my boots off, slow and seductive, landing a butter-soft kiss to each of my knees. His hands glide up and down my body, confirming there’s not a stitch more to remove.

  “Like your surprise?” I take his hands and run them over my breasts, straight down to my bare hips, then lower still. A breath gets locked in my throat, and I’m afraid to breathe, to move a muscle, as I let him explore me freely. A part of me is shocked by my own brazenness, but it feels good like this, pretending to be like Caila, the naughty vixen, being in control of a beautiful man like Cade.

  “I love my surprise.” His voice drops down to its lower register as his fingers mold to the shape of my hips. “I am a very, very lucky boy. Happy belated birthday to me.” He tucks a kiss behind my left ear, and my entire body seizes. In a swift maneuver, I turn my head before biting down over his rock-hard shoulder.

  A dull moan comes from him as he takes in the pain.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. Apologizing in the heat of passion is a totally unCaila thing to do, but then, she’s never had to compensate for shredded flesh that healed badly for all the world to see. I’d die if Cade landed his lips to that testament to how much I loved my daddy—past tense. If my father knew how much Caila and I loved him—how much we agonized for him once he was gone, he would have come back. No person could ever put two little girls through that emotional hell and still consider themselves human.

  “Hey”—Cade pulls back in the dark, his finger touching softly under my chin—“please don’t ever say you’re sorry.” He runs a heated kiss down the center of my chest, stopping by to visit each of the girls. His hot mouth over that tender part of me, his demanding tongue, the sucking, the pulling—Cade causes me to nearly jump out of my skin, when ironically for the first time in my life, I’m damn glad to be in it.

  He parts my legs with his knee, gliding his hand down to my wet slick before touching me there, plunging a finger deep inside of me. I feel him there, moving inside of me, alive, willing, seemingly happy to be there, and it makes me struggle to catch my breath.

  “Lie back.” His voice is firm, demanding, and believe you me, a part of me is cheering him on—but the other part is savvy to the oral road in which his orders might lead to.

  “Oh no, that’s okay. It’s not like I’m really here to claim some ridiculous door prize I won at a party.” Chicken, chicken, no winner dinner for you!

  Cade straightens on his knees as a single seam of moonlight straddles the two of us like a lonely, slightly pornographic highway. He tucks his finger under my chin once again and gently lifts my gaze to his. There in the moonlight I can see him inspecting me, looking at me with those beautiful eyes that hold so much expectation. I turn my head slightly to the left, and he doesn’t protest the idea. Cade is a perfect gentleman. He’s had to have seen it. My heart breaks at the thought. For the first time in my life, a part of me wants to be perfect for someone. I want to be perfect for Cade.

  Through the dimly lit room, I can make out a devilish grin breaking out over his face. “You are most certainly here to claim that door prize, and I promise you, it will be anything but ridiculous. Just wait—you’ll be back for more.”

  “Oh? You have many repeat offenders?”

  His dimples cinch, forming small, shadowed dots on his cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. They’ve all been banished from the castle. The princess has arrived—the scullery maids have been sent to the tower.”

  Princess? I blush from head to toe at the fairy-tale implications of it all. Some guys will say anything to get laid, and Cade is good. I’ll give him that. I’ll have to tack on an extra gift—most likely a blowjob before the night is through.

  “Will you chop off their heads in my honor?” My throat scratches as I say those words. I meant for them to be humorous, and they sounded mostly pathetic.

  “I don’t see why not.” He falls to his elbows and grazes his heated chest over mine. “I’ve no need for them. And the fact I won’t be bedding them anymore doesn’t really give them much to live for.”

  I belt out a laugh. And there it is, the icebreaker that affords me my next breath and the courage I needed to boss this gorgeous man around beneath the sheets.

  I lie back on my elbows, my knees rising to his shoulders. “Speaking of head.”

  He growls out a laugh as he glides down the mattress, his arms parting me at the knees just enough. Cade lands his hot mouth over the most intimate part of me, and I let out a sharp cry of pleasure just the way he promised.

  And just like that, I collect on my debt.

  Cade

  All week, and into the next, I strut around campus with a goofy grin plastered to my face. Cassidy dictates what nights she’ll stop by. So far, it’s most, but there doesn’t seem to be rhyme or reason to the nights she decides to stay away. She says she likes to keep me on my toes.

  A dull chuckle warms my chest as I head into the Black Bear. I’m on my damn toes all right.

  Cassidy Clayton has me by the balls, and as much as I have license to roam the mean streets of Hollow Brook looking for that fabled unicorn, I don’t have it in me to glance at another girl. Who needs a unicorn when you’ve landed the Queen of Whitney Briggs—a real live princess in your bed? I’m liking the mythological, hell, the fairy-tale implications far better than I do reality. I’ve already tasted reality’s bitter offerings, and I’m not up for seconds.

  It’s early evening on a Friday, just before the dinner rush, before the barflies gather around to hear Blake, my almost brother, perform with his band. It’s a bit brighter inside the establishment, with just enough natural light flooding through the stained glass. But soon evening will fall hard, and the night magic will pour into this place like a balm. I’ve only been in Hollow Brook a few short months, but already it feels like home, comfortable, tried and true, like a good pair of shoes. If New York were Italian-made patent leather dress shoes, North Carolina is a sturdy pair of hiking boots. Who would have figured, me, Wall Street bound since birth, an outdoor type? But it’s true. I’ve fallen in love with trails, the miles of nothing but God’s green earth, the pines, the frosted mountains, the red dirt under my feet on a warm, sunny day—and Cassidy herself. Hollow Brook most definitely has it all.

  “What’s up?” Cole, the bartender working behind the counter, nods
me over, and I take a seat on my regular stool. I’ve never been one to hang out at bars, but here it feels more like hanging out at a friend’s house rather than a drunk tank on 47th.

  “What’s going on?” I slap him five, and he pushes a beer my way. “Bryson or Holt wouldn’t happen to be around, would they?”

  “Reporting for duty.” Holt comes around and flashes those pearly whites. He and Bryson are twins. Fraternal, I think, but they look enough alike to mess with my head—clean-cut, buffed-out surfer types with more than enough business know-how to get them to the top of the bar chain in North Carolina. I believe they own a few. “What can I do for you?”

  “Dude.” I slap him five. “My junior year is coming to a close, and I’m hoping to set up an internship for the summer.”

  “You want Bryson for that. You’re talking about the media company, right?”

  Capwell, Edwards, and James Media Services is Wyatt’s new baby, along with Bryson, and Ryder Capwell, another one of their buddies.

  “No, actually, I was talking about the bar. I was hoping to shadow some managerial duties this summer. If Cole is cool with it, tend some bar. I don’t know jack, but I’m a quick learner.”

  Holt frowns a moment as if it were anything but the brilliant idea I thought it to be. “Why wouldn’t you go for corporate gold? I don’t get it. Who is it you’re trying to impress by interning at a bar?”

  “I’ve got my entire life to go for the corporate gold, and believe me, I will medal many, many times. My father has carved out a nice little niche in his gargantuan company for me. There’s a golden throne awaiting my arrival. I just wanted to get a taste of—”

  “How the other half lives.” A hand lands over my shoulder, and I find Owen Vincent spreading his shit-eating grin in my direction. He lands hard in the seat next to me and lifts a finger at Cole before a cold one lands in front of him. Owen is Piper’s main squeeze, and the thought of anyone squeezing my baby sister makes my guts churn with vomit. But he’s a good guy, and I can appreciate the fact Piper thinks the same.