Game Saver (18 page)

Two months of ‘real
’
Cade, and I never want fake again. It’s crazy that a woman like me who has been independent—and happily so—for many years is loving the ‘dating’ experience.

Of course the man I’m dating has a
lot
to do with that. We work on what seems like every level. Opposing shifts? Not a problem—we have dinner together after his day is done and before I’m due at the hotel. Night at the Pink Monkey? I head home to whichever bed Cade is sleeping in, generally my place, because the lack of roommate is a definite bonus.

Sunday mornings are different. Neither of us have anywhere to be or anything to do, so Cade has decreed that Naked Sundays become a tradition in the Abi-Cade bubble. For obvious reasons, we only carry through with this practice when we’re in my apartment. As much as he
might
enjoy seeing a naked woman in his house, I’m fairly confident that Thomas would
not
enjoy hanging around a naked Cade, or more so, what inevitably happens on Naked Sundays when Cade and I are . . . well . . . naked.

Today, being Sunday, I’m standing in my kitchen, naked as the day I was born. Two arms wrap around my waist, and Cade’s hands roam my skin. He rests his chin on my shoulder, looking down at what I’m doing. “Coffee?”

I tilt my face to lean my cheek against his. “Is my name Abi-Jane Cook?” I ask before snorting in a ‘pfft’ tone. “You’d think my manfriend would know that I’m not human until I’ve had at least one cup of joe. It’s my morning ritual.”

He sucks my earlobe between his teeth, letting go to murmur, “I thought your
manfriend
eating
you
for breakfast was your morning ritual.”

My breaths quicken as a mental reply of what we’d done just thirty minutes ago plays on a loop in my head.
So freaking good.
“Well, there is that one, too.”

“Maybe
I
should add other things for
you
to do as part of this morning ritual of yours.”

I spin in his hold and loop my arms around his neck, rising up on my toes to brush my lips gently against his. One of his hands drops to my ass, the heat of his palm shooting through me like a missile.

A good thing about Naked Sundays? Nothing hindering me from Cade’s talented hands, mouth, and cock—which at this moment is rapidly rising back to life.

Biting my lip, I lock my eyes with his as I drag my nails down his back, earning a low guttural growl for my efforts.

“Couch. Now,” he grinds out before wrapping his hand around the back of my neck, tugging me forwards at the same time as his head drops and he kisses me, long, hard, deep, and wet—that’s me in multiple places obviously—taking me from zero to ‘fuck me now’ at the first touch of his lips.

“Here,” I murmur against his lips, catching my breath before his tongue spears into my mouth once more, his legs walking us backwards until his back hits the kitchen counter with a jarring thud that reverberates through us. He grunts but doesn’t stop plundering my mouth or tightening the grip of his fingers in my hair, keeping me in place for his bidding.

Nipping my bottom lip, he sucks it between his teeth, his eyes blazing as they bore into mine. “Knees . . .”

“Thought you’d never ask,” I reply with a wicked smirk.

He quirks a brow. “It wasn’t a question.”

Woman down—literally in this case. I lower myself to kneel on the ground, framing his hips with my hands and running my tongue around the crown of his cock.

His fingers grab hold of the countertop, holding on as I trail the vein running along his shaft down to the base, sucking the soft skin of his balls before retracing my steps back to the tip and swallowing him whole, fighting my gag reflex as I constrict my throat around him.

“God I love your mouth,” he groans, his fingers sweeping my hair out of my face so I can watch him watching me. Just the look of heat in his eyes is enough to have me clenching my thighs together.

The faint sound of my intercom chimes but I ignore it, too consumed by the task at hand.

Pulling me off him, he hooks me under my arms and hauls me up. I’m forced to wrap my legs around his hips, and my nails bite into his shoulders as I hold on for dear life.

Walking me into the living room, he drops me onto my back, falling down on top of me and pressing into me.

“Cade, I need—” I’m shut up by his lips on mine, his tongue spiking into my mouth, and my hands desperately tug at his shoulders for him to come closer.

It’s then that a key turns in the lock of the front door. Just as I realize we’re about to become the headliners at a live peep show, the door swings open and my mom walks in, followed by three out of my four favorite—until this moment—macho idiots, my brothers Jaxon, Bryant, and Cohen bringing up the rear.

“Precious, we’re—”

“Holy fuck! Get the hell off my sister!”

“What the fuck?” Cade growls, lifting his head, his eyes growing as wide as Lake Michigan at the scene playing out in front of us.

Scrambling up, I push Cade to the side and thank the Lord on high for the afghan blanket my mom gave me for Christmas as I flip it out and cover all of our important bits. I glare at my family who are standing stock-still in my foyer. The guys are scowling at Cade, and Mom’s trying not to bust a gut laughing, all the while checking Cade out because—hello—he’s a hot naked man lying on my couch, and I had to get my dirty girl personality from somewhere.

“Um, hi,” I say cheerfully, the hilarity of the situation finally dawning on me. Cade pulls me into his lap and rests his chin on my shoulder, chuckling in my ear.

“I take it it’s ‘meet the family for a naked breakfast’ day,” he muses.

“We didn’t mean to interrupt,” Mom says, stifling a giggle.

“We did,” Bryant states matter-of-factly.

“Hell yeah, we did,” Jaxon adds.

“Oh come on, guys. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman who has a boyfriend—”

“Manfriend,” Cade says, correcting me.

I turn my head to look at him and grin. “Sorry—
manfriend
—and I can do whatever the hell I want with him in my own home, considering it. Is. My. Own. Home. Sheesh, take a chill pill.”

“He’s pawing at you, and we’ve never even met the guy,” Cohen, the baby at twenty-five, grinds out.

“Mom, please, for the love of God, take the boys out into the corridor so Cade and I can at least put some clothes on before I formally introduce him to half the family.”

“Sure thing, precious,” she says, smiling brightly at us. She does as I asked but walks backwards, watching us intently as I stand, trying to protect both of our modesty. Mom tilts her head to the side, her eyes dropping to Cade’s bare butt as he stands from the couch.

“Mom . . .” I warn. Her head jerks up and I narrow my eyes, shaking my head at her but secretly proud of the fact I have a man with an ass worth checking out.

I’m giggling like a school girl when Cade and I reach my bedroom and shut the door behind us.

“I’m so sorry,” I say between laughs.

He pushes me up against the door, pressing his body into mine and holding me in place as he buries his face in my neck and chuckles. Peppering kisses along my jaw, he places a gentle kiss on my lips, his dancing eyes looking straight at me. “That’s one way to meet the family.”

“They interrupted Naked Sunday, the clam jammers,” I reply with a pout.

He nips my bottom lip before soothing the sting with this tongue. “It just means I can strip you bare the minute they leave and take you against the wall.”

Oh hell yes, I like that idea.

“Still liking our
real?
” I ask, running my fingers through his almost-sex-mussed hair.

“I like this being real. A lot of my life hasn’t been, so I like that I have a slice of real with you.”

Seeing how open and honest he’s being, I can’t—and don’t even try—to stop myself from saying what comes next, because I
want
to say it. I
need
to say it.

“I think I’m falling for our real,” I say quietly.

A slow-growing smile plays on his lips before he lowers his forehead to mine and whispers back, “That’s good, because I’m already gone.”

“I see you
do
own clothes,” Cohen grumbles from the couch as Cade and I enter my living room.

“Hi to you too, Co,” I reply.

“Hi. I’m Marcy,” Mom says, standing up and walking towards us, wrapping her arms around Cade’s shoulders.

“Hey,” he says warmly. “Not
exactly
how I thought I’d meet you.”

“Believe me, I’m so not complaining.”

“Mom,” the guys groan, Bryant and Jaxon shaking their heads at our shameless mother.

“Feel free to stop glaring at him,” I tease my brothers.

“Give me a break. I walked in to an eyeful of my sister getting mauled,” Jaxon says with a grimace.

“Think of it as revenge from when I walked in on you and Sarah Nonnemacher going at it in the back shed,” I retort.

“What?” Mom gasps, her head snapping to my brother. “She was with Jason Harris all throughout high school.”

“You do know that Sarah was rather
friendly
with most of the male students of their senior year, don’t you?” I explain.

Mom shrugs. “Nothing wrong with being friendly, just not when you’re with someone.”

I look at Cade with my eyes bugging out in a ‘please don’t leave me with them’ glare.

His lips twitch, and he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. “Nothing wrong with being friendly, Spitfire, as long as I’m the only one you’re being
that
kind of friendly to.”

He places a gentle kiss on my temple and lets me go before walking up to the three members of the How Dare You Touch My Sister firing squad sitting menacingly on my couch. I leave them to it and make my way into the kitchen to make coffee.

“You’re either Bryant or Jaxon?” Cade says, looking between the twins.

“Bryant,” he replies gruffly, attempting a strong-arm handshake. I bite my lip to stifle a snort at Cade’s non-response, making a note to repay him with sexual gratitude once Naked Sunday activities can be resumed.

Jaxon doesn’t move from the couch, just lifting his hand to Cade when Bryant sits down.

Cohen, however, shoots daggers at my man, standing up and puffing out his chest when Cade reaches him.

“You must be Cohen.”

“Funny, you know me yet my sister hasn’t said
anything
about you.”

“Co . . .” I warn.

His eyes turn to mine, a cocky smirk replacing his scowl. “Don’t worry, Sis. We promise we won’t hurt him—”

“Much,” the twins say in unison.

Cade, the crazy mofo, just laughs, stepping away from them and taking a seat in the recliner.

Walking over to him, I hand him a coffee, and with nowhere else to sit—and no better place to sit—I lower myself down onto the arm of Cade’s chair. Obviously not happy with this, his arm snakes around my hips to pull me down into his lap.

“Better,” he murmurs when my eyes snap to his. A wave of warmth flows through me, and as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, my body melts into his.

“So, instigating your own sneak attack, Mom?” I ask, turning my attention to my mother.

“Precious, aren’t I allowed to visit my only daughter?” she says with feigned innocence.

I narrow my eyes at her. “On a Sunday morning before”—I check the clock on the wall—”ten a.m.?”

“We were in the area,” she says, struggling to hide a wry smile.

“Sure. All of you just happened to be in
my
neighborhood,” I mutter. “Where are Dad and Jamie?”

“Golf,” Jaxon replies with a smirk.

“Cade, it’s so good to finally meet you,” Mom says, obviously trying to change the subject.

“You too, Mrs. Cook.”

“Call me Marcy, please. Mrs. Cook makes me feel old.”

“Okay,” he replies with that swoon-worthy smile of his, charming my mother instantly if her glazed eyes and lop-sided grin are anything to go by.

“What are your intentions with our sister?” Cohen asks, his voice low and menacing.

I tense like a virgin on prom night and turn to face Cade. “Don’t answer that.”