One Funeral (No Weddings Book 2) (16 page)

I looked back toward the bar where Cade had been busting his ass all night. But as I danced with Claire, her body pressed close behind mine, brushes of her silky hair teasing my bare shoulders, Cade had gone motionless—his fierce gaze held mine.

When a sexy smile curved my lips, his head moved slowly to the left then right while he stared at me, not in negation, but as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He leaned forward, bracing his body with his arms on the bar, as he continued to stare. He bit his lower lip, and I did the same, like only the two of us existed in the expansive room, and we spoke each other’s erotic language.

All too soon, and yet not nearly fast enough, bright lights flashed on and the music stopped. It was 2:01 a.m.—time for everyone to go home.

In slow rotation, the crowd flowed toward the door. I remained in the VIP section, waiting as Cade cleaned up for the night. Ten minutes later, he climbed the steps and opened the red velvet rope before closing it behind him.

“Where’s Kiki?” His gaze locked on me, shoulders rolling with each measured step. He resembled a sleek, dark panther stalking his prey—stalking me.

I swallowed hard, frozen in place like the rabbit. Except, I wanted to get caught. “She grabbed a ride home from Darren.”

He nodded once before making contact with me. With firm pressure, he wrapped his arms around my waist, then slid them lower, across my ass. Locks of his hair fell over his forehead as he bent down. When his hot lips brushed across my neck, I shivered, goose bumps racing down the side of my body.

His voice growled low. “I like that you came to see me tonight.”

Warm breath drifted up from the crook of my shoulder to below my ear. His hips began to move, and with those hands pressed firmly into my backside, he swayed my body with his. As the lights dimmed and the club emptied out, we danced alone in the semiprivate space.

A smirk twisted my lips. “What makes you think I came to see you?”

A soft chuckle. “Oh, ‘of all the gin joints in all the world’…is that how you’re playing it? Random coincidence of star-crossed lovers joining paths?”

I gave a small shake of my head across his chest. “No. Kiki suggested it for a reason. She asked about us.”

“And you told her…?”

“The truth. After Kiki swore not to breathe a word.”

“Which was…?”

“That there’s more than physical attraction between us, but we’re proceeding with caution. And she also confirmed that neither Kendall nor Kristen have mentioned anything to her about us.”

“Are you okay with all of that?” He looked down at me, concern etched in his expression.

I smiled and nodded. “For now. It actually feels good outing us in small increments.”

“I agree.” He brushed the hair from my face. “Gives us time to enjoy what’s happening without the spotlight on us.”

“And we’re not.” I pressed a gentle kiss to his chest through his T-shirt.

Cade pulled back, searching my eyes. His were a dark blue, his gaze penetrating. “We’re not, what?”

“We aren’t star-crossed lovers.”

My hold tightened around him. The amazing man who had gone from acquaintance to best friend to…so much more…was real and true and in my arms. Confident and determined, he’d seen my weaknesses and embraced them. He’d taken note of my obstacles and seized the opportunity to help me overcome them.

No, not Rick from
Casablanca
. We weren’t ill-fated like so many tragedies. We were not Romeo and Juliet.

I turned my face, leaning up, brushing my lips once across his.

He smiled against my lips, then increased the pressure into a tender kiss. “No we’re not.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “We’re caught in each other’s gravity.”

O
ne Friday night spent mostly without Cade demanded a hit of the drug that only Cade in the flesh could provide, and the following week proved I’d become addicted. Our time alone together dwindled to scarce or nonexistent while he studied for his final exams. We kept our scheduled dinners with Ben and Mase, but the time afterward had become two people studying together yet separately, the conversation light and only on brief mental breaks.

Even his visits to Sweet Dreams had been abbreviated to only about thirty minutes or so before we opened, where he could concentrate alone without customer interruptions. Yet still he came, even though his time would be better spent studying alone in a library or his bedroom.

And so there he stood in my doorway at 7:22 a.m., looking dark and grumpy.

I laughed, unlocking the door. “’Morning, sourpuss. You know, I could give you a key.”

He gave me a deadpan look, handing me a
caffè americano
. “Don’t you think that’s moving a bit fast, Maestro? We’re not having the non-sex yet, but you want me to have proprietary access?”

Scrunching my face at him, I pushed him toward the couch. “Study hard, Future MBA Graduate. I’ll be in back, making the cupcakes.”

He dropped his things, put the coffee on the table, but then turned, growling as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. “I don’t like all this time away from you. I’m going through withdrawal. Look, my hands are shaking.” He proceeded to slide them around my waist.

“No they’re not. They feel solid as a rock.”

His mouth descended to my ear, hot breath fanning over the shell. I shivered. His voice was a low purr. “That’s not the only thing solid as a rock. Man can’t think with no blood flow to his brain.”

I pressed further into him, enjoying his warmth, the safety of his arms. All the doubt and fear I’d once had kept slipping further away the longer we went on with this non-dating charade. He needed me, wanted me, as badly as I did him. Denying ourselves any longer would only ratchet up the building tension we each felt until at some point we came together—explosively.

I only hoped when we decided to let go, to crash into one another, we’d survive it.

“I know. It’s hard for me too. I’m in desperate need of
us
time.” I burrowed closer until his heart thumped hard against my cheek, until every breath I took smelled and tasted like him. “I need more of this. When you aren’t with me during the day, I need hits of oxygen to make it through.”

His shoulders shook and his chest rumbled as he leaned back to look down at me. “I’ll get you one of those tanks with wheels. At the end of all this, when I’m free from academia, will you be waiting for me?”

Our inside joke rang out into my head, about Cade thinking I’d look great in anything. I grinned and nodded. “With burlap on.”

T
he next Tuesday, I sat in Abigail’s office while she put her notepad to the side.

“Well, Hannah, you’ve made great progress. You’ve made new friends, and you’ve spoken to Cade about your feelings over his keeping your relationship from his friends and sisters.”

I felt the same way as I glanced down at the stack of tissues folded neatly in my lap. Turns out, I hadn’t shed any more tears in therapy. Abigail Trent didn’t operate as an interrogator or torturer. Instead, she coaxed out feelings I had buried deep inside—the ones that held me back from living my life—to the surface.

And the surprise revelation we discovered was that I wasn’t hurt any longer. As it turned out, beneath the protective anxiety about putting myself out there was a healthy layer of pissed-the-fuck-off. I had a lot of anger I’d needed to vent: about how my ex hadn’t had the courage to remain together and work out whatever issues he had, or the honesty to tell me his feelings to my face; about how my mother rejected me without effort or explanation.

“Are you worried about Cade’s loyalty or the list?”

“No. I’m not concerned.” I finally looked up at Abigail, straightening in the chair and accidentally dumping my tissue stack off my lap. “His actions have made it clear, even with the greatest temptation prancing all around us, that he only wants me. And he’s begun to show more affection toward me in front of others. He promised he would work on showing that he cares about me to his friends and to his sisters.”

“And you trust him?”

I smiled. “I do.”

Leaning back, she pulled the notepad on her desk forward and jotted down a couple of notes. “The apprehension you have in advancing your relationship is normal. We all have to take the risk and trust that the reward is worth it.”

I took a steadying breath. “What should I do now? How will I know when to take the next step or make a move?”

She stood, crossing the room, giving me a hug. “Don’t worry about the little things. They’ll take care of themselves. Just believe and let go.”

I hugged her back. Then I knelt on the floor, scraping up the mess I’d made.

“Leave it.” Her strong hand rested on my shoulder. “You’re not the first person to leave a pile of tissues on my floor. At least yours aren’t snot-filled clumps.”

“Uck!” I burst out laughing and stood, suddenly feeling for the kind therapist.

“It’s up to you, Hannah, if you want to see me again. It sounds like you’ve got a great handle on things. Do you want to leave the calendar open and call if you want to schedule another session?”

I nodded. I did feel stronger, like I had a great foundation and a clear sense of direction. “That sounds like a great plan.”

As we walked together down her hallway for the last time, I turned to her.

“Is Cade still seeing you?” The entire situation felt odd—standing in a sterile hallway to part ways with someone who knew intimate details about my life. I’d made a valuable friend in her that I likely wouldn’t be seeing again, because I no longer needed her.

With a smile, she gave me a sideways hug, diffusing some of the awkwardness. “You’ll have to ask Cade.”

S
aturday night was event planning at Kristen’s. There was only a slight chill in the air—it was unseasonably warm for this time of year—so we decided to do our strategizing out on her patio.

Deep seating chairs and a couch in a terracotta color surrounded a large fire pit. Orange flames danced over dry logs that Cade had retrieved from her shed. Stuffed full from Kristen’s surprise homemade dinner of Cornish game hens, baked sweet potatoes, and mixed greens salads, we sat in lazy silence, nursing our beers.

I listened to the fire crackle and snap, mesmerized by the patterns the flames made.

“Comfortable?”

I glanced up at Cade, smiling. We sat beside one another on the two-person couch, each on our own cushion, but our thighs touched across the seam. “I am.” I looked over at the others, but his sisters were in a heated debate over the theme of our next function and paid zero attention to us. “Hey, are you still seeing Abigail?”

He shook his head. “She cast me out into the world last week. Why?”

I furrowed my brow. “Why didn’t you tell me? Are we keeping things from each other now?”

Crossing his arms, he gave me a stern look. “No. We were traveling down our own paths there, and I didn’t want my situation to influence yours. I’m going to ask again: why?”

“I got my seal of approval this week too. See? No secrets here.” I stared at him, fighting a smile.

His eyes narrowed for a split second before a myriad of emotions flickered across his face: surprise, relief, excitement. Leaning forward, his eyes glittered with lust. “Prepare yourself, Maestro.”