Unbroken (17 page)

“Which are you? Asshole or douche bag? I want to know.”

“I am a guy who thought a box of condoms might be a nice purchase to make along with his half gallon of milk,” Cade said.

“Bull.”

“What? Men buy condoms for no specific reason. That's why they carry condoms in their wallets. In case of a generic sex emergency.”

“So which sex emergency are you planning for? One with some skank, or one with me?”

She was just pissed now. Pissed enough to smack him. Or grab him and kiss him. Hard. And show him that he didn't want another woman—he only wanted her. She was pissed enough to tear his shirt off and lick his chest. And his abs.

Yeah, she was that pissed.

“With you,” he said. “Are you happy? With you. Because I can lie to myself all I want. I can lie to you while I lie to me, but it doesn't change the fact that my cock barely twitched for the last four years.” He dragged his hands over his face. “Look, I was the one avoiding sex, okay? I . . . I could have had it. And . . . and I don't even think I've ever admitted that to myself until now. Women were still up for it, but I wasn't. Because I have scars on my body, and I walk with a limp. Because I was afraid I wouldn't be as good. Because if I spent the night they'd see me hobbling around in the morning. Because if my back went out during . . . dammit. Okay, that I couldn't even think about. But . . . with you, I didn't think about it.”

“I . . . thank you,” she said, frowning. “I think. Are you saying the only reason you could have sex with me is that you didn't think about it?”

“Well, the first time, sure. But this time, because there is about to be a this time”—his dark eyes met hers, and her stomach plummeted to her toes—“I have thought about it. All the reasons why we shouldn't. All the reasons we should pretend it never happened. All the reasons we should never even speak of it, much less do it again. And I don't care. I don't care if it's smart. Or if I should want this. Or . . . anything. I don't care about anything right now except the fact that I want you.”

“Then . . . then nothing else matters,” she said, her heart pounding in her throat.

“You want to do this?”

“If there were marshmallows in the bag I'd suggest we cool things down and make s'mores. But since there are no marshmallows . . . and there are condoms . . . I think maybe we should make use of what we have.”

“That's the pioneer spirit.”

“So long as we don't end up dying of dysentery, I'm good with employing some
Oregon Trail
logic.”

He laughed and then shook his head.

“What?” she asked.

“I don't remember ever being this turned on and this amused at the same time before.”

“Good. Because this should be different. Because . . . look, Cade you and I . . . friendship is the best we have to give.” For some reason, saying that made her chest hurt. “But I don't want us to just use each other to scratch an itch either. I could have done that with . . . any guy. I have done that with any guy. It's not satisfying. It doesn't meet the real need. So I'm not going to pretend you're someone else, or pretend you aren't my friend, Cade. You are. And that's why the sex is so damn good. Because you know me. Because I know you. So . . . I want us to be aware of that. In the end, I think our friendship is strong enough to add this to it. And to take it away when we're ready. Don't you?”

She didn't know what she'd say if he disagreed. What he would do. She hadn't planned on saying all that, but then, she hadn't planned on any of this. It was all true, though. She and Cade were wicked screwed up. And maybe someday he would find the right woman. But she wouldn't be his right woman.

He needed someone who knew stable. Someone who wasn't as messed up, or more messed up, than he was.

And she needed . . . She didn't know what she needed.

She didn't want love. She didn't want marriage. But she wanted Cade. And she needed him to want her—and not just for sex. She needed it to mean something.

She was done with meaningless. She was done with using guys to try and fill the emotional well inside of her that was just . . . dry. The emotional well that was her own damn problem, and not something that was going to be fixed by skin-to-skin contact with a guy she wasn't even that into.

But that wasn't what she was doing here. Not with Cade. She actually wanted him. This was rooted in genuine lust and desire—and also, she liked him. This was a first. This was the next stage in her sexual evolution.

This was the opposable thumb of her sex life.

She wouldn't cheapen it, or change it, just to take the easy way out. Just to let them both squeeze their eyes shut and chase an orgasm.

She had a vibrator for that.

Cade was her fantasy. He had been for a long time. And she'd been afraid of that, because she'd been afraid of how it might change their friendship. But now that the horse had left the barn in spectacular fashion, why not let the bastard romp through the daisies a little?

“Amber,” he said, his eyes locked with hers, “you're my best friend. And I am well aware that it's you I'm looking at, and talking to, and wanting. Now please take your shirt off before I explode.”

She gripped the hem of her t-shirt and tugged it up an inch, and Cade's eyes went down to that little slice of bare skin that was now on display. He was focused on her in a way she'd never seen him focused on anything, all of his attention on her. Her body.

It sent a thrill through her, a different kind of sexual thrill than she'd ever experienced with anyone else. This was desire. This was lust. Pure and wonderful and amazing lust.

She tugged her shirt up over her head and took a breath, her breasts rising in the cups of her nude-colored bra, spilling over the edges.

It wasn't the sexiest lingerie, but then, she hadn't realized anyone would be seeing it. Anyway, judging by the look on Cade's face . . . he didn't care.

“You too, Mitchell. It's not polite to tell a lady to strip down, then not give up the goods.”

A smile curved his lips, and he gripped the bottom of his shirt and whipped it over his head, revealing that perfect, muscular body of his.

And she was going to look, because damn, she had permission. She finally had permission to look her fill. They weren't drunk, and it wasn't going to be a speedy, furtive and regretful encounter on the table either.

They were deciding to do this. They were committed to it. There was no rush, because they weren't trying to outrun good sense. They weren't trying to get to the point of no return as quickly as possible.

Although, in fairness, she suspected they'd hit the point of no return somewhere a few weeks back. Not in any one moment; but she just had a feeling it had all been heading this way for a while now.

She didn't quite know when, only that there had been a shift somewhere. Or maybe a thousand tiny ones. And once the last one had locked into place, there had been nothing but the inevitable.

Right at this moment, she was completely okay with that.

“You are so damn sexy, Cade Mitchell,” she said, taking a step toward him, placing tentative fingertips on his chest. “Do you have any idea? I mean . . . good Lord, man. Your body should come with a warning label.”

“For external use only?”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

He blinked rapidly. “You're sure enthusiastic.”

“I don't see the point in pretending to be otherwise. I've thought you were hot for a long time. I was celibate, not dead.”

“But we're friends.”

“Have you honestly never checked out my ass, Mitchell? Be warned, my ass will find a ‘no' answer insulting.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, air hissing through his teeth when she flattened her palm on his chest, “I've looked.”

“Have you been checking me out while we were hanging out alone? All this time?”

“When we were in high school . . . I shouldn't tell you this.”

“Tell me,” she said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck.

“I used to dream about you. I hated the way guys treated you, and I never wanted you to even get a hint that I wanted your body. But in my dreams? I've had you a thousand times, a hundred ways. I've touched you. Tasted you . . .”

“You never let on.”

“I was sixteen or so when I first started struggling with it. At the time it was easy to write off, and then train myself not to feel that way anymore. But still . . . still sometimes I dreamed of you.”

“Tonight you don't have to dream, cowboy. You want to ride again? Save a horse and ride me.” She leaned in and ran her tongue along the edge of his throat, across his Adam's apple.

“That,” he said, “is cheesy. It's a cheesy song. It's a cheesy bumper sticker. But when you say it . . .” He gripped her wrist and moved the hand that wasn't on his chest down onto his denim-covered erection.

“Damn, I'm good,” she said. She kissed the edge of his lips.

“You are. Lose the bra.”

She backed away from him and felt a slight twinge of nerves before she reached around and put her fingers on the clasp. This felt different than any experience before. With Cade or anyone else.

She'd always been comfortable with her body, but she'd never really gone out of her way to show it to Cade. Even during their encounters so far, neither of them had been completely naked.

She released the catch and let the bra fall to the ground, her breath catching as she did so. Cade closed the distance between them instantly, curving his hand around her neck, cradling the back of her head as his lips crashed down on hers, his mouth devouring her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he put his other hand on her ass, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. And she did.

He wrenched his lips away and stumbled, bracing his hand on a chair. “Shit. No. I can't do that.”

“Sorry!” She scrambled down, heat prickling her face. “I'm so sorry, I didn't think, I—”

“Forget it.”

“Cade . . .”

“Seriously, let's forget it. I'll survive not being able to carry you up the stairs. As long as it doesn't terminally flip your switch off.”

“Baby, you could turn the hose on me and you wouldn't cool me down. Now, I don't recommend it, but I'm just saying. I've been wanting more of this since . . . well, actually, since that night by the fire.”

“You didn't get anything out of that.”

She cupped him through his jeans and squeezed gently. “Sure I did. I got to taste you. Take you in my mouth. That's a fantasy and a half.”

“Do you want this to be over now?”

“No.”

“Then stop talking before I come,” he said.

A smile curved her lips. “I should have known you'd like dirty talk.”

“And I should have known you could give it good.”

“Kiss me again, Cade.”

He did, softer this time, cupping her face and stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. He bit her bottom lip, gently, then licked it, tracing the line of pain with the tip of his tongue before kissing all along the border of her mouth, slowly, from end to end.

“How's that?” he asked.

“Not enough. We've spent sixteen years not kissing. I think you owe me more than that.”

He angled his head and kissed her deeper, his stubble rasping across her skin, his tongue teasing her lips open, sliding against hers. He held her close, her breasts pressed tight against his chest. Skin on skin.

And then she was lost. In his taste. In his scent. This was Cade. So much about him familiar, so much about him, in this at least, new.

When he pulled away they were both breathing hard.

“I think now maybe we'll go upstairs?” she asked. “But I can get there on my own two feet.”

He touched her cheek, a strange shadow crossing his face. “I would carry you if I could.”

“I know. But you don't have to. We'll just walk together.”

She laced her fingers through his and tugged him toward the stairs. She met his eyes and she fought to hold in a giggle.

“What?” he asked.

“You. Me. This. It's sort of crazy.”

“The best crazy though, right?”

“Pretty much the best crazy I can think of right now. Though, I warn you, I'm not thinking very clearly.”

“I'm either flattered,” he said, pulling her in close and kissing her gently, “or insulted.”

“Be both—why not?”

“Can you be both?”

“Sure. I'm terrified and excited. So I don't see why you can't meld those two things.”

“Why are you terrified, baby?”

“Because”—she blew out a breath—“we're about to make love.”

“We did it once already.”

“Yes, but this feels different.”

He nodded slowly. “It is.”

“Okay then. Shall we?”

“Not without these.” He picked up the paper bag again.

“That would be a travesty,” she said. “Since they started the whole thing.”

“They deserve their moment of glory.”

“They so do.”

She led him up the stairs and down the hall to her room. She'd had Cade in her room lots of times, but never for this reason. It made her feel weirdly nostalgic. For a simpler time. Except they'd never had a simpler time, so that weird ache she was feeling wasn't over anything in the past. Just over things she'd wanted and given up on ever having.

Normal had never been in the cards for them.

But at least they'd had each other. Always.

And now they shared this too.

Cade cupped her chin and tilted her head back, kissing her, and skillfully guiding her back onto the bed, one of his knees wedged between her thighs, his body hard over hers, the mattress soft beneath her back.