Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (12 page)

“Cain.” Sofie stood instantly in the cramped space. Her head spun to Abel. “I told you not to call him,” she snapped softly. Her admonishment held no bite. Her hands twisted together. I crossed the small space and gripped them with my large fingers.

“Tell me you’re all right,” I hissed.

“I’m all right,” she replied quietly. Without thought, I leaned forward and kissed her forehead then braced mine against hers. Sighing in relief, I let out a breath I’d been holding as I sped through the town.

“Come home with me,” I breathed. It wasn’t a question.

“I can’t,” she whimpered, closing her eyes. We had an audience, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if the entire university had been witnesses. If it meant turning into a Neanderthal, I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“She can stay here tonight,” a feminine voice spoke from beside me. I lifted my head and spun to the girl.

“No!” I barked. I didn’t mean for it to be so forceful, but I wasn’t letting Sofie stay anywhere without me.

“Cain,” Sofie warned gently. She had no fight left in her, and in her weakened state, I took the opportunity to strike. Without asking, I scooped her up and began to exit the apartment.

“Cain,” Abel called. “Where are you taking her?”

“Home,” I yelled over my shoulder and felt no further protests, as Sofie wrapped her arms around my neck and nuzzled below my ear. “We’re going home,” I whispered to her as I carried her down the stairs to my SUV.

Once inside the cool blackness of my vehicle, I asked if she wished to return to the apartment for anything. Shaking her head, she then explained how she’d called the police. I wanted to curse her for not leaving instantly. Someone could have been lurking, but her place was small. I shuddered to think what would have happened if she hadn’t been able to escape, despite the smaller place. The idea of a slashed bed, with her body in it, made me grip the steering wheel with vibrating anger. When we pulled up to the house, she retracted her statement and said maybe she should have gone back. She needed to see if anything was salvageable. Her computer. Some clothing. Anything.

“I’ll go back for you,” I offered. “Don’t worry, we’ll replace it all.” She attempted to argue, saying it wasn’t necessary.

I escorted her to an extra bedroom. The house had four. While I had already envisioned her in mine, tonight wasn’t the night for such fantasy. I held open the door to a room bathed in white. Sheers like her apartment blew in the late evening breeze. A white duvet covered the double bed. The walls were a soothing light robin-eggshell blue. Sofie stood in the middle and stared at the space. Spinning slowly, she turned to me.

“Thank you. I think I’d just like go to bed,” she said quietly, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt.

“Of course,” I stated, and drawing on strength I didn’t think I possessed, I withdrew from comforting her. “I’m at the end of the hall if you need me,” I added, hoping beyond reality that she would seek me. I closed the door, shutting her out from my view, but not letting the shell-shocked image of her escape my mind. I waited a beat outside the door, my forehead pressed against it when I heard the first sob. I waited for a second one before I gently forced the door to open again.

Sofie was on the floor beside the bed, curled into herself, with her head on her knees, and one hand over her mouth.

“Sofie,” I purred, as I sat beside her and pulled her against me. She turned her face into my shoulder and let out another sob. The sound of her cry forced me into action, and I pulled her into my lap. In an attempt to soothe her, I gently rubbed up and down her arm, pleading with her to stop.

“It’s okay now. I’ve got you.” At one point, it seemed my words made the tears worse and I grew more awkward.

“I just feel so violated, even though I was never touched,” she cried.

“If you had been touched, I’d be locked up at the moment.”

She stiffened under my caress and pulled back from me, lifting her head to look up at me.

“Why did you bring me here?” she whimpered softly.

“It’s your house, too,” I stated. “I bought it for you. For us.”

Tears fell again. She was ready to question me, but I cut her off.

“Sofie, sweet apple, don’t cry,” I tried again to stop the flow. She started to giggle with tears still sliding down her red cheeks.

“Sweet apple?”

“You are my greatest temptation,” I explained. “Apple of my eye?” I teased again. She giggled once more through the tears.

“Apple of my heart?” I added. She choked on a mix of sob and laughter, shaking her head in teasing disbelief.

“See I can be romantic,” I smiled slowly.

“I never said you weren’t romantic,” she replied softly.

“You think I’m romantic?” Shocked, I stared down at her liquid-filled eyes that glistened up at mine. “Don’t make me soft, Sofie. I can’t be.”

Her giggle melted into that slow smile of hers.

“Oh, Cain, you already are.” She practically beamed at me. There was something playful in those watery blues. Her eyes roamed down my seated body.

“You think I’m soft, Sofie?” I gripped her hand and tugged it to cover the length of me. “I’m hard for you. And I want to fuck you to the core. But not tonight. Tonight I can be soft for you.” I curved my arm around her waist and lifted us both from the floor. Not releasing her, I adjusted her against me and pulled us up onto the white bedding. I twisted her to wrap my arms around her, pulling her back to my chest, and cradling her against me.

“You’re safe here, Sofie. I’m going to protect you. I’m going to keep you.” The admission seemed too much, so I clarified. “Safe, that is.”

I’d slept peacefully, despite what happened, but my groggy waking left me uncertain of my surroundings. For a moment, I thought I was back at The Belfast, and then I heard the soft thumping noise outside the partially opened window. Rolling my head left to right, I realized I was alone, fully clothed and alone. The idea of clothing reminded me I’d need to go to my apartment. I’d need to file for insurance. I’d need to see if anything was left. My mind drifted briefly.

The state of my rooms was something out of a mafia movie. To say the space was trashed was an understatement. Papers, books, and writing utensils were everywhere. My couch cushions tossed and torn. My bed slashed down the middle. Blankets destroyed. The kitchen fared no better. It looked as if someone opened the small selection of cabinets and simply swiped within them, emptying the contents to the floor.

I had no idea who could have done such a thing, nor could I predict why I was the one targeted. In a building complex with thirty or so apartments, mine was the only one hit. I was on the third floor. It appeared they entered through the cracked window that Cain had warned me about, despite there being no direct access. The images made me tremble. What if I’d been home? The thought only occurred to me when I called Lucie. If I’d been home, I would have been killed, I had no doubt. The fear rumbled through me like an earthquake.

My hand slid over the emptiness of the bed around me, and I heard the thumping sound again. Not wanting to be alone with my thoughts, I remembered I was in a spare room at Cain’s home.
Our home
, he’d said last night. He’d purchased this house, for me. I couldn’t think about that, though. I needed a change of clothes and a shower.

In search of Cain or the thumping noise, whichever came first, I left the room and quietly made my way down the hall to the stairs. After searching all the rooms on the lower level, I decided to step outside. The noise increased and I noticed a three-car garage with one panel door open. Hesitantly approaching, I saw Cain inside the open space, punching the ever-loving daylights out of a ball hanging from the ceiling. It hardly had time to right itself before it was pulverized upward in a steady stream of vibration.

Calling his name, he didn’t hear me over the thudding noise. I stepped closer, trying to warn him of my approach, but his concentration was fixated on the motion of his body. I gently touched his shoulder blade. It was a mistake. He rounded on me with fist raised and braced for a fight. His chest rose and fell exaggeratedly from the exercise. Frozen by the glare of hatred in his eyes, I held my ground. It took seconds before I cowered in fear that he might strike me. Within an additional second, I was enveloped against him, my breasts crushed against the hard form of his chest, feeling the effort of his breathing.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he breathed, tugging me tighter to his sweaty body. My arms were limp at my sides at first, but slowly I bent my elbows and placed my hands on his hips. The heat of his skin under my trembling fingers caused a physical reaction of epic proportions. While I shouldn’t have been turned on by his sweating body, his exaggerated breathing, and his stalled attempt to strike me, I was intoxicated with the scent of him surrounding me. My tongue snaked out to lick the side of his neck, tasting the sweet saltiness of his aggressive workout. I don’t know what possessed me, other than the nearness of him.

“Sofie,” he breathed my name, as I attempted a second lick-suck of his skin. His warm mouth found my neck, as well, and he tenderly bit me. The strike was brief, the effect instantaneous. I drew back in search of his mouth, already willing and waiting, as we entangled our tongues and inhaled one another. His gloved hands moved to my lower back, while my hands slid up his toned chest. Eventually encircling his neck with my hands, he hoisted me upward with his gloved fists and my body reacted by wrapping around him.

I couldn’t get enough of his tongue. I needed the sting. I had to feel connected, whole, anything other than the trembling fear of violation from the break-in. His mouth was equally forceful over mine, and the moans echoed off the hollowness of the surrounding garage.

“Inside,” he hissed. Taking his meaning to be that he wanted us to go in the house, I loosened my hold on him to allow him freedom to walk. Instead, he spun me and I was seated on some ledge. He was struggling to get his gloves off behind my back as his mouth refused to release mine. Attempting to pull back, his teeth clamped on my lip.

“No,” he moaned, before my mouth opened again for him and our tongues began to coil. Eventually in need of air, I gently pushed back against his chest. He still fumbled behind me with the gloves, and I broke free long enough to try to bring one wrist forward. In doing so, I was able to slowly untie the strings that held the glove bound to his fist. We continued to breathe in sporadic rhythm, but I was slowing the pace by taking my time to disrobe his hands of their coverings. The weight of hooded eyes on me stretched the seconds as I unlaced and removed one large hand.

“Let me touch you,” he exhaled, “Please.”

Without answering, I raised his freed hand to cover my breast, which he instantly massaged. Puckering the nipple to a ripe peak, he pinched me over bra and t-shirt. I arched into his touch; it wasn’t going to be enough.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groaned. “I need inside.”

“We can go to the house,” I replied innocently. I wasn’t certain how far I could really go with him, but I burned with desire to connect.

“No,” he growled. “Inside you.”

My fingers paused for a moment on the ties of his right hand, my eyes wandering up the inked cobra design, twisting over and around his arm. I wasn’t ignoring his words; I just needed a second to decide if I could do this again with him. I’d divorced the man after not knowing I was married to him, and yet I was willing to have sex with him? The question brought another thing to light. The name Malinda flashed through my mind.

“Sofie?” he questioned. My silence might have lasted longer than I thought. I removed his second glove and his hands fell to my thighs. Rubbing eagerly, possibly in an attempt to regain the momentum of where we were headed a moment before, I placed my hands over his to stop him. My heart dropped to my stomach as I craved his kiss, but it wasn’t going to be enough. I was done pretending with Cain Callahan.

I woke early, assured that Sofie was still asleep. She was a sound sleeper it seemed, and I realized we’d spent the night together, literally sleeping, less than five times in our marriage. I wanted to see the damage to her apartment, but I didn’t want to alarm her by allowing her to return. It was as bad as I suspected. It wasn’t hard to infer who could have made such a mess; who could have been sending a message. I wanted my suspicions to be wrong. I wanted to be so mistaken that I’d be cursed for thinking it, but there was only person who could have singled Sofie out from the rest of the tenants in her apartment complex. A person who was searching for her. A person who wanted to know who she was and how she was connected to me. My father.