Ginger's Heart (a modern fairytale) (5 page)

She gasped in surprise and turned at the waist to look at him, dropping her hands flat on the planks behind her.

“Cain,” she sobbed, tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked up at him. “Thought I might’ve heard a m-motor below, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Aw, princess,” he said gently, stepping over hay bales to make his way to her. He sat down carefully, letting his legs dangle beside hers and putting his arm around her shoulders. “What’s got you so sad?”

She sniffled, her small body shuddering as she laid her head on his chest like a wilted flower. The scent of her shampoo—fresh lemons—surrounded him, and he flinched, closing his eyes and memorizing the smell so he could pull it out and remember her when he was far away from home.

Since the day of her twelfth birthday, when Cain had first started seeing her as a woman, Ginger had appeared regularly in his dreams. But even his fantasies were careful of her. Sometimes fully clothed, oftentimes not, she represented something lovely and untouchable, something clean and innocent that squeezed Cain’s heart. Whether she was naked or not, her softness, her goodness, her undiluted, luminous beauty, beckoned him like an answered prayer, but Cain kept his distance. He never fucked Ginger in his dreams. He stared at her from afar. He silently worshipped her. He wished things were different.

She sniffled again and raised her head, looking up at him. Her deep brown eyes were filled with tears, but still huge and seeking, framed by dark lashes. Her lips, at which he’d stared a million times, were full pillows of soft pink, and her body had filled out into womanhood in the most distracting ways: full, high breasts, slim hips, and legs than went on for days. He rarely allowed himself to be alone with her, knowing how desperately he craved her and how unworthy he was to have her.

Cain
consumed
women. He ate them for lunch and licked them clean for dessert. He turned them from soft, pliant, smiling creatures to spitting, narrow-eyed harpies who hated him. But he’d rather die than to ever see Ginger’s eyes flash at him with hurt, full of hatred.

Besides, Woodman loved her.

And he’d loved her longer.

And he’d love her better.

In every way that mattered, Woodman was the better man—smarter, richer, clean and honorable—and since Ginger deserved the best the world had to offer, Cain had no business going near her. And he hadn’t. Fuck, how he’d tried to stay away.

Still, he couldn’t see her so upset and just turn his back on her. Ginger had a right to the bit of softness in his tired, bitter heart, and if she needed him, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away from her.

“Tell ole Cain what’s got you so sad, baby.”

She sniffled again, adjusting her head until her soft hair nestled into his neck, caressing his throat.

“Besides the f-fact that you and W-Woodman are leavin’ tomorrow?”

“Aw, Gin. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“What if you get s-sent to w-war?” she sobbed.

“Well, we just might,” he said soberly. “They need good men in Iraq.”

“You could d-die.”

“Is that what you’re worried about, baby?” He hugged her closer. “Ain’t no sense in fussin’ over that. I’ll look after Woodman, and he’ll look after me.”

“It scares me, C-Cain. I don’t know what l-life looks like w-without you t-two.”  She hiccuped over her words, sniffling mightily and gasping for breath as she finished speaking.

“You listenin’ to me, Miss Virginia?” he asked, his heart hurting from her tears, twisting to know that his decision to enlist was wringing such sadness from the princess.

“Uh-huh.”

“Then fuckin’ look at me,” he demanded.

She slid her head off his chest and looked up at him, her wide eyes glassy and bloodshot. Her lips parted in surprise at his words, but she held her breath like it would keep her tears from falling.

“Ain’t
nothin’
gonna happen to Woodman and me, baby. I
promise
you that.”

“You c-can’t—”

“Yes, I can.” He reached for her chin and held it firmly, the soft skin making his fingers tingle. “I promise you. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me, and you can bet your sweet ass ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to Josiah while I got breath in my body. We’ll be back here to catch you on your eighteenth birthday, you hear?”

“I h-hear.”

He nodded, offering her a little smile. “That’s my girl.”

She nodded back at him, but her eyes immediately filled with tears again, and she exhaled on a sob even louder than the ones before, letting her head hang down in sorrow.

He couldn’t fucking bear it anymore.

“Don’t make me spank you, Miss Virginia,” he said severely, and she whipped her head to face him, snorting in such an unladylike way, it made him laugh. “Oh, you look a sight, princess.”

But her surprised smile was fleeting, and her mouth trembled into a deep frown as she wailed, “Robby Hanson’s got strep throat,” before letting her head fall back onto Cain’s chest.

Cain frowned.
Who the fuck is Robby Hanson, and why the fuck is he making Ginger cry?
The word
ass whuppin’
flashed in his mind as she continued.

“He was my d-date tonight. To h-homecomin’. My first f-formal. I think W-Woodman m-made him ask me, but I don’t care. I w-was excited. I got a n-new d-dress and shoes, and now . . . now . . .”

“Now you don’t have no one to take you.”

She nodded against his chest, the hair on the top of her head rubbing against his throat, sending a bolt of heat from the pulse in his neck to the pulse in his cock and making it twitch. His eyes flared with panic, and he bit the side of his cheek until he tasted blood, willing his cock not to harden while he was sitting beside Ginger.

“It was h-hard enough startin’ school this year after bein’ h-homeschooled my whole life. They all t-treat me like I’m b-breakable or some sort of a w-weirdo, but . . . but I was goin’ to f-fix that toni—”

“Gin,” he said.

“What?” she asked, leaning back to look up at him.

“I’ll take you,” he said, shocked to hear the words leave his mouth. He didn’t feel them coming, didn’t know they were on their way from his brain to his lips until he heard them in his ears.

“You will?” she gasped, her face changing from mournful to joyful in the space of a second.

“If it’ll make you stop cryin’, then hell, yeah. I’ll take you.”

She gasped, a smile taking over her entire face as she threw her arms around his neck. And before, he’d barely noticed that their thighs were flush, but now—with her breasts pressed against his T-shirt—he tracked every place his body touched hers, and suddenly she was everywhere.

“Wanna know somethin’ else?” she asked, her warm breath kissing his throat.

“Sure,” he said, trying to stay calm, to ignore the way her body pressed against him.

“I was gonna kiss him. Robby. He was gonna be my first kiss.”

His heart pounded as his arms wound around her, pulling her close to him, as close as he could, until her breasts were crushed against his chest. His cock sprang to life, hardening and thickening behind his jeans, wanting more from this beloved, forbidden girl.

“Never been kissed?”

“Not yet.”

Blood pounded in his head as he reviewed what she was saying, and though he willed himself to ignore her thinly veiled suggestion, he found he couldn’t. After three years of longing and a lifetime ahead, he just couldn’t leave the moment alone.

“You still want that first kiss?” he asked close to her ear, his voice low and husky.

Her breath, which was hot and sweet on his neck, hitched. “You offerin’?”

“What if I say yes?” he whispered.

She drew away from him, still nestled within the circle of his arms, but her eyes, the gorgeous brown eyes that had haunted his dreams for a thousand nights or more, searched his face, caressing it, reading it, understanding it. He held his breath, his stomach in knots, his eyes flicking to her lips, before meeting her gaze again.

“I still want that first kiss,” she murmured, raking her teeth across her bottom lip. She dropped her eyes to his mouth and let her hot gaze linger there.

Cain’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips instinctively, his breathing shallow and ragged as he stared down at her.

“You’re sure?”

Her eyes slid up slowly to meet his, certain and clear. “I’m sure.”

Cain reached up for her cheek, placing his palm against the softness of her skin reverently as his fingers threaded into her golden hair. Her eyes fluttered and closed, and he touched her jaw with his other hand, cupping her face, drinking in the sight of Ginger in stunning submission as he leaned closer, lowering his lips to hers.

For all that this might have been Cain’s millionth kiss, the most terrifying thing about kissing Ginger was that it felt like the very first. Like no one had ever come before. Like no one could ever come after. And as his heart thundered painfully behind his ribs, he knew—for the very first time, after years of hunting—what it felt like to surrender.

Soft as rose petals, her lips were parted and still beneath his. She gasped as his mouth settled on hers, stealing his breath and making him dizzy. He closed his eyes, tightening his grip on her face as he nuzzled her nose, taking her top lip between his, then her bottom, then gently swiping the tip of his tongue along the loose seam of her lips. She opened to him like a flower to sunshine, her back arching as she touched his tongue with her own, trembling in his arms as he pulled her still closer.

He slid his tongue slowly along the length of hers, swallowing her moan as she arched against him instinctively. His fingers twined in the lush waves of her hair, holding her head in place as he tilted his face to the other side, resealing his lips over hers. Blood rushed furiously to his groin, and he growled, his hunger mounting as he claimed her mouth, as he memorized the taste of her, the way she felt in his arms, the way it sounded when she gasped, breathing him into her lungs.

His own breath was fast and shallow, and though he’d already stolen more than a moment from her, already betrayed the cousin he loved as a brother, he wanted so much more. He wanted her lying beneath him, her soft eyes encouraging him, the tight walls of her virgin sex pulsing around him. He wanted to watch her face as he made love to her and feel her wild heart pound against his as he held her in his arms for hours after. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted—

Without warning her, he jerked his head away from her, breaking off their kiss as his fingers, still threaded deeply into her hair, flexed and froze in horror.

This wasn’t some girl with dyed hair that he’d picked up at the goddamned Gas & Sip! This was Ginger! The princess. Everything good and sweet and pure. And his lips . . . God, his lips had been in places he could hardly bear to think about right now, but he certainly had no business tarnishing her sweet lips with his.

And fuck. She was Woodman’s Ginger, not his. She deserved someone like his cousin—someone upstanding and smart and clean who hadn’t fucked half the county, who had a decent future mapped out for his life that he could offer to a girl like her. Hell, hell, hell, fuck. He panted raggedly, sliding his hands from her hair and wincing as he realized the full magnitude of what he’d just done.

“Cain?” she murmured, her eyes fluttering open, drunk and dark with lust.

His heart clenched, and he swallowed over the lump in his throat, and, God almighty, if he was wrecked one second ago, now he was ruined for life. She raised her hand to press her fingertips against her lips, and her eyes, so soft and sweet, were languid as her body leaned toward his and her chest heaved with breaths as labored as his own. Until he died, he’d have this vision in his head of Princess Ginger’s blinding, angelic beauty.

“Sorry,” he said harshly, edging away from her.

“No,” she said quickly, dropping her fingers to reach for his arm. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I wanted—”

“You’re a little girl. You don’t know what you want,” he said, his voice cold. He scooted away from her and stood up in retreat, leaving her hand suspended and lonely in midair.

“I
do
know!” she insisted, turning her whole body to look up at him. “God, Cain, I’ve
always
known! It’s
always
been you.”

I’ve
always
known! It’s
always
been you!

The words cracked like a whip in his head, half heaven and half hell. Heaven because she wanted him and always had. Hell because it could never, ever be.

He put his hands on his hips, looking down at her, unable to process the feelings that were taking up all the space in his chest, barely leaving space for air, for his beating heart, for sane thought. He had to get out of here. Now.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be seein’ you, Gin.”

“O-okay,” she said softly, still staring up at him, fear edging out the lust that had made her eyes so soft and shiny. They were wary now. Worried. And he fucking hated it. “Cain, please don’t be sorry.”

But I am sorry. I’m sorry I know how kissin’ you feels because I’m never goin’ to be able to forget it. I’m sorry I betrayed my cousin’s trust. I’m sorry I touched you when I had no right.