Kade's Game (12 page)

"You're kidding me!" he yells, his eyes trained on his stepmother.

Yeah... I should have brought a wheelchair.  Or at least a pair of crutches.

"Absolutely not.  Clean that up," she scolds, looking like she's ready to slap Josh upside the head.  Then her smile returns as she faces me.  "Unless you're uncomfortable staying in the room with my daughter, of course.  I could ask one of the neighbors to put you up."

Ah, so she's playing this game.  I'm far from uncomfortable about staying with her daughter.

Raya's glare is adorable as she screams at her mother with nothing but her eyes.  I hold back as much of my laughter as possible, though some creeps out.

"I'll be fine in Raya's room.  She doesn't usually bite," I tease, ignoring the promise of death her brother is silently giving me.

I wink at her, and then revel in the sight of her footing faltering.  When her eyes go to my lips, my pants get tighter.  I need my track pants.  Now.

"Raya?" I prompt, needing her to stop staring at my lips and making my erection grow in front of her whole family.  "Want to show me where to find your room?"

Yeah.  Fully hard and painful now.  I shouldn't have asked that question.  Too many images just sprawled out in my mind.

"Yeah, come on," she mumbles after a sharp breath, turning toward the hallway.

I grab our bags, intentionally leaving behind the wine in hopes Josh will finish it all off on his own.  A drunken coma promises me a night of sleep.

But Raya foils my plans by grabbing it up.  She casts an accusatory glare toward her brother, before moving her eyes back to me with a softer look.

"He's an animal."

Josh throws his hands up, clearly offended, and I can't help but laugh.  Because I stop myself, I move my hand to the small of her back, needing to be closer.

"I can sleep on the floor, Raya," I whisper, noting how tense she is.

I was really hoping she would be more susceptible to this
—
us—
by now, but her body language clearly states otherwise.  No doubt I could have her if I turned on my charm at full blast, but I'd never be able to keep her if I rushed it.

She pauses as she processes the out I just gave her, but I see it in her eyes what she's going to say, and I'm going to be in pain by the morning.

"No.  It's fine.  We've shared a bed before."

I pull my shirt off, needing to see her eyes on me, but I play it casual.  Maybe I can get her to fold if she has to endure her weakness, which seems to be my body.

She shuts the door, leans against it, and just watches.  I'm tempted to pull my pants down, carry on as though her eyes on me aren't noticed, but the damn hard-on I have would excite her or send her running.  I'm not chancing the latter of the two.

This is
deja-vu
Déjà vu
.  It's my room all over again... with a much smaller bed.

I stare at her, not even bothering to hide my amusement as her gaze feasts on me.

"Right.  I should go change," she says suddenly, realizing what she's been doing, and then she drops to her knees to grab clothes from her bag.

I try not to laugh, but it's impossible.  The red stain on her cheeks is always adorable, but she's getting closer to giving me what I want.  Shaking my head, I take my time finding my pants.

Just as I drop my jeans, Raya comes crashing back through the door, slamming it behind her.  Then her eyes go down to my crotch.  And shit.  She sees it.  Has to.

She doesn't run.  She doesn't attack me either, much to my dismay.  But she doesn't run.

"I thought you'd be longer," I say while grinning, angling my body to hide the tent while slowly sliding my pants on.

"Sorry," she says, slapping her hands over her eyes.  "It's dangerous out there right now."

I laugh, confused by that.  Did she have ulterior motives?  Her eyes are scrunched shut with her hands over them, so she must have chickened out.

I decide to climb on the bed, watching her tense when it squeaks.  Dangerous out there?  That's the worst excuse I've ever heard.

She slowly removes her hands, her eyes on me, but she makes no attempt to advance.  So I play along.

"You can change in here... since it's dangerous.  I'll head out," I mock, sliding off the bed.

I walk close to her, letting my body become something she can't avoid looking at, and open the door.  Weird noises paint the hallway.  What the hell is going on?  Is that a moan?

It sounds like my house after the Wet Game.  Then it all clicks, and I burst out laughing while shutting the door as quickly as possible, my laughter rolling out in heaves.

"Damn.  They work quick," I joke, relishing how mortified she is right now.

"Don't talk about it.  I'll puke."

My roaring amusement only continues harder as I drop to the bed. "I'll close my eyes."

I shut my eyes, but I feel her gaze on me.  And I might peek when I hear her shuffling out of her clothes.  I never told her I wouldn't peek.

I shouldn't have peeked.  This is going to be a long night now that I've had a glimpse of what rests beneath the clothes.  Damn.

She screams my name as
I find that spot of no return.  My tongue is owning her and she's riding it like it may disappear if she stops.  I can't take it any longer, though, so I jerk my pants down, ready to be inside her.

Just as I'm about to surge in, it all fades as two moans sound out in unison, one becoming breathy.  It takes me a second, but my eyes snap open to meet hers as I feel the soft flesh beneath my firm grip.  Another fucking dream, and I'm groping her again!

I scramble backward, wishing I had handcuffed myself last night.  But I make the mistake of forgetting how small this bed is.

One second I'm on a bed, then next second I'm Wylie Coyote trying to run on air as gravity jerks me down.  My elbow slams into the unstable nightstand, taking it with me.

A grunt is forced from my lips as I hit the ground, decimating the last of my masculinity.  An assortment of blunt, hard objects pound against me.  Worst. Morning. Ever.

"You okay?" she asks, seeming angry.

That's the second time I've woken up with my hands all over her.  No way is she ever going to trust me if I can't get my shit together.

"Yeah," I groan, then I curse when some of her pictures that fell start falling out of my lap and clambering to the floor.  "I'll clean that up.  I need... I need a smoke," I stammer, making an even bigger idiot out of myself.

I grab the pack and lighter from my bag and haul ass out of there, desperate to get my nerves under control.  I don't even acknowledge the ungodly sounds coming from her brother's room as I dart outside, needing that cold air for so many reasons.

I'm not about to talk to my father.  I need to call Wren and ask him if he made a complete ass of himself when he was trying to get close to Erica.  Because right now, this isn't looking too good for me.

I can't stop thinking about
Raya in pigtails.  She was adorable as a kid.  Her mother seemed to really enjoy breaking out every old photo she could find, even mentioned she never got to do that.  Not that I didn't already figure that out, based on what Raya has told me—one boyfriend ever.

But now Raya has
dragged me to town to keep her mother from cramming every memory she could summon down my throat.  Personally, I was enjoying the hell out of it.

I start noticing that everyone is staring at us
—more so at Raya.  And then I notice her eyes are focused on the ground, meaning she's already felt the heat of their gazes.  I know their looks—judgmental and condescending.  It's as though we've somehow stepped into a Country Club function.

None of these people look as though they have any money, so why do they have that pompous, superior gaze?  Not to mention, she looks like she just stepped out of a Paul Colton fashion catalogue.

I'm sure they might know her and where she lives, but this is ridiculous.

"People like to stare," I murmur, lacing my fingers with hers to let everyone know they'd better stay the hell away.

She moves her gaze to our joined hands, still refusing to look at the people gawking at us.

"You're new in town," she lies, shutting me out.

She's embarrassed.  Again.  I hate this.  No one should be looking at her this way.

"I guess I get what they say about small towns now," I mutter, letting her feel as though she has fooled me.

I'm suddenly brought to an abrupt halt when I smell... it's... oh damn.   What is that?  My stomach almost growls in excitement, roaring for a taste.  I've never smelled anything like it before.

"What's that smell?" I almost moan, feeling a little high just off the scent, as my mouth waters ferociously.

She starts laughing.  There's nothing funny about that delicious aroma.

"Mrs. Bates's cherry pie.  She's won the state fair pie contest for the past ten years with that recipe."

I don't care if it's won any awards or not.  I want it.  Need it.

"Please tell me it's not soy, fat free, or gluten free," I plead, sounding desperate.

I don't wait for the answer.  Like a bloodhound hot on a trail, I make my way to the lady behind a food stand.  The line isn't terribly long, proving this town doesn't appreciate this culinary wonder.  I should offer her a spot in Sterling Shore.

There are others coming, so I actually run to get in line before they beat me.  They don't need this as much as I do.  I'm starving.  I'm almost bouncing up and down as I near the stand.

"What can I get you?" the old lady asks, a warmth in her smile.

"A cherry pie."

"How many slices?"

Slices?  Does she not see how hungry I am?

"The whole pie."

She laughs as though something is funny.  What is with these women laughing about food?

As she rings me up and I hand her my card, my eyes move over to see Raya.  Her body tells me more than the words I can't hear being exchanged between her and the couple in front of her.

She's stiff, looking as though she wants to run, cry, or scream.  Possibly all three.

"Who're they?" I ask the woman as she hands me back my card and waits for the receipt to slowly print.  I don't need it, but I want to know who they are, so I use it as an excuse to pry.

"Oh, that's Raya Capperton.  Poor girl with a bad story.  Town still isn't over it.  This town talks too much.  And that's Jeremy and Vickie.  Bad blood between the three of them.  Can't say I'd blame Raya if she hated them both.  I can't believe she's even talking to them after what they did."

Raya has a bad story?  Because she's poor?  That pisses me off.  But Jeremy is the ex.  I remember that.  I assume Vickie is the best friend that screwed her over.  There are at least ten ways I can handle this, but one option seems to be the best.

Raya doesn't even sense me until my lips are tasting her delicious neck, making me forget about the pie in my hand.  I grip her at the waist and pull her to me as I work my way to her lips and claim her in front of the whole damn, stupid town.

The kiss is hungrier than I intended, but I can't pull back the way I initially planned when she slips her hand in my hair and pulls me closer.  In response, I press my body against hers and devour her that much more, giving the town something new to talk about—the fact Raya has a man who is mad about her.

That had better be what they're saying.

I don't want to pull back, but any more would be overkill.  Damn, I wish this was real.  It will be.  Soon.

"Sorry," I murmur insincerely while pulling back, keeping my voice syrupy sweet while playing dumb.  "Are you friends of Raya's?"

Raya seems a little stunned, which means she's either confused or my kiss left her reeling.  Judging by the way she was kissing me back, I'll go with option number two.  Which is perfect.

"I'm Jeremy and this is Vickie," the guy says, looking as though I just pissed on his territory.  "And you?" he asks, poking his chest out like he's something intimidating.

"Um... yeah.  This is Kade," Raya says, truly grinning now instead of wearing that sad, forced smile she had before I came over.

Her entire body slowly relaxes against me.  It feels good to know I've just made her feel safe.

"Colton," I add, waiting for it to click.

"As in Colton Fashion industries?" Vickie asks, stars in her eyes as she swoons.

I usually don't name drop.  In fact, I hate it when people do that.  But this one time I'll make an exception.  When we leave, everyone will be talking about Raya for a new set of reasons.

"Paul Colton is my father," I say, shamelessly smirking.

As my arm wraps around Raya's waist, I kiss her forehead.

"We should go, babe."  For good measure, I give Raya a soft kiss on the lips, forcing myself to keep it chaste.  "I've got pie, and I'm desperate to eat it.  I've also got the perfect wine to go with it."