CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I slept better than I had in years. Around nine, I woke with a tender ache between my legs. My fingers skimmed down and stopped on my lower belly, pressing just enough to feel that I was sore inside too. It was no wonder he was proud of himself; he’d railed me so hard last night, I would be feeling it all day.

My stomach churned. Last night was an enormous mistake. That was clear to me now, but I couldn’t get myself to feel regret. The listlessness I was so used to that it felt like a permanent fixture had eased when I was with him. Maybe it was just hunger, and finally eating something heavy had satisfied it.

But I doubted that.

I dragged myself naked out of bed and swayed on my feet. A little trickle etched down my thigh, clear and smelling faintly of him. My face went hot even though I was alone. My fingers traced over it and up to my breasts, rubbing it on my nipples.

Arousal flared and burned, quickly followed by shame that all it had taken was the sight of him shirtless on the balcony to make me cave.

If I didn’t get it together, I was going to fail this mission.

I had to keep my eye on the prize.

Resolutely, I showered and washed away the traces of him from my body. I scrubbed my hair because his fingers had dug into it, and my body because his hand touched it, and between my legs because he’d marked me with his cum.

I had a meeting with Tennessee Galt in an hour, one that Caden didn’t know about. I was going to seal the deal and have his approval for the Wyoming Project by noon.

In the dining room, I noticed something through the window the minute I sat down. Down in the yard, overlooking the forest on the south side, stood two figures—Caden and Tennessee Galt.

Caden was in his fatigues, arms crossed over his chest. His stance was different, relaxed and easy, the way I saw men converse in meetings or work parties.

The way they talked when I wasn’t part of the conversation.

My body froze, my fingers on the back of the chair. Down below, I saw Galt laugh, and Caden held his hand out. They shook hands, and I sank into my chair, not wanting to see anything else.

He’d tricked me.

He’d fucked me so hard that I woke up late, feeding me the heaviest meal he could to keep me down even longer. Then, he’d gotten up early and sealed the deal without me.

Asshole.

Rage flooded my chest. The waitress appeared, and I barely remembered ordering breakfast, but it arrived. Scrambled egg whites, green juice, an oat milk latte, and a halved grapefruit. Wrathfully, I ripped the grapefruit open and began cutting it into smaller pieces, imagining I was doing the same to Caden’s perfect, pierced dick.

He’d gotten the upper hand this time, but never again. I didn’t need him to complete this fucking mission. We had two more signatures to get, and I was scoring both of them.

At that moment, my phone rang. My father’s name appeared on the screen, and I lifted it to my ear.

“Hey, what’s up?”

It sounded like he was in the kitchen. There was a faint echo. “I’m sending you the info about the next target,” he said briskly. “How’s this mission going?”

“Almost signed, sealed, and delivered,” I said. “Where are we going next?”

There was a faint scuffle on the other end. It sounded like my father was covering the phone and talking to someone else.

“Are you busy?” I asked. “You can call me later.”

“No, it’s just the…bug exterminator,” he said. “I’m at home.”

I frowned. “We have bugs?”

“I thought maybe we did—I mean, we do, but not anymore,” he said, his accent getting stronger.

It hit me all at once. Oh no, he had someone over at nine in the morning. “Hey, uh, just email me that info, okay?” I said quickly.

“Alright,” he said. “Just please keep me updated.”

I hung up with lightning speed and set the phone aside. Of course, I knew my father wasn’t celibate, but he usually stayed in the city on nights when he took women out. That way, we never had any awkward moments where I walked into the kitchen and found a woman wearing his shirt. It was our unspoken rule.

Well, I was out of the house. He had every right to take his dates home. The thought that he wasn’t alone at the house warmed me through the mortification. My father had been a widower for twenty-five years; he deserved his second chance at love.

Soft footfalls sounded, and I glanced up to find Caden slipping into the seat opposite me. My jaw went tight, and I sent him a hard stare.

“What?” he drawled.

“You made me sleep in,” I snapped.

The corner of his mouth jerked. “No, you fell asleep in my bed at nine-thirty with a fry in your hand.”

Humiliation made my cheeks pink. “You knew I’d sleep in.”

“I did not,” he said.

He sank down and crossed his arms, stretching his long legs out under the table. The toe of his shoe hit the toe of mine, and for some reason, that set off a flood of rage. I shot to my feet, grabbing my oat milk latte, spun on my heel, and flounced out.

I was almost in my room when I heard his footsteps. I whirled, blood boiling.

“Just fuck off,” I said. “I know what you’re doing.”

He was standing with his arm at his side like he always did. I wondered if that was because he kept his gun strapped to that hip and he was a soldier through and through, always thinking of potential threats, or just because it made him look like an utter douchebag to always have one hand in his pocket.

“I am not sabotaging you,” he said sharply. “You are wet behind the ears, Circe.”

His voice rung out and, all at once, I knew why he was in charge of training soldiers. His stance was rock solid, cobalt eyes narrowed and unwavering. Even his jaw was cut like stone. He looked so fucking good, but I had no interest in that right now.

“What?” I gasped.

The muscle in his jaw worked. “Tennessee Galt went to a party last night. He’s unmarried; he went home with someone, but he doesn’t drink, so no chance of a hangover. She left early, he went golfing. It’s a nice day, he just got laid—I struck when the iron was hot. You didn’t. So swallow it and move on.”

No one had ever spoken to me like this. Part of me wanted to lash out.

The other part wanted to release frustrated tears.

“How could you possibly know all that?” I snapped.

He took a step closer. “He divorced amicably ten years ago. That’s easy to look up. I did some digging online and discovered he doesn’t drink. Then, I paid off the bartender to text me if he left the party with someone. You were sleeping when I got up this morning, so I did a loop past his door, saw her leave, then saw him leave and head for the golf course. I got dressed and joined him, sealed the deal before the first round.”

My fists clenched. My heart thumped, but this time with rage and embarrassment. He moved closer until he stood directly over me and bent, lids heavy and dark lashes stark against his cheekbones.

“I’m not cheating at this game, Circe,” he said softly. “It’s possible that I’m just more experienced than you.”

He sidestepped me and kept going, disappearing down the hall and leaving me in shock.

I went into my room and slammed the door.

He didn’t appear for the rest of the day. I wasn’t sure where he was—probably off celebrating his victory somewhere. I ordered lunch, purposefully getting something he’d hate: steamed vegetables and fish. Then, I went down to the gym and took the three o’clock hot yoga class.

Every position stretched muscles he’d thoroughly used the night before, and when I stripped off later to shower, I noticed I had bruises on my hips and thighs. When had that happened? I couldn’t remember. Wrathfully, I put on a sweatsuit and settled down to watch a movie for the rest of the afternoon.

My phone pinged. I swiped the screen, and a text from Delaney popped up.

You ignoring me?

Frowning, I swiped back. She’d texted me eight times about a dress I’d borrowed around eight-thirty last night, while I was getting my insides rearranged by the man I’d sworn up and down I hated. Guiltily, I typed out a quick answer.

Sorry, fell asleep early. Had a heavy dinner.

It only took a second for her to text back.

You? I doubt that.

Frowning, I typed: I had a burger.

I don’t believe it. Were you having sex?

No. Of course not, why would you ask that? Who would I have sex with here anyway?

Her line of dots rolled for a solid minute. Then:

Idk, maybe Caden. I heard you were paired up with him for a work trip.

I frowned, typing rapidly. How do you know Caden?

He’s best friends with Yale?? Hello, do you ever listen to me?

Sighing, I texted back: Yeah, sorry, I forgot.

He’s hot, you should hit that, she texted.

My stomach flipped.

Absolutely not. Gross.

Gross?

Yeah, gross. He’s got a massive ego.

I’ll bet he’s got other things that are also massive.

I rolled my eyes and laid aside my phone. I was so used to telling Delaney everything that if I kept texting her, I might spill the truth, and I didn’t want anyone finding out that he’d fucked me.

Dinner time came and went, and I stayed in bed, wrapped in my plush comforter with another reality show droning in the background. I wasn’t sure why I felt so depressed about this morning.

Maybe because he was right—I’d been presumptuous.

Maybe a little arrogant, and definitely dismissive.

He was good, I knew that now. He knew what he was doing, and he was efficient. Maybe he wasn’t just an annoyance.

There was a quiet knock at the door between our rooms. I cleared my throat, glancing across the room at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked tired, my hair piled on my head, and I’d showered off all my makeup.

“Come in,” I said wearily.

The door swung open to reveal Caden in sweats and a white-shirt, a brown paper bag in his hand.

“You didn’t come down to dinner,” he said.

I shrugged, staring past him at the TV. “I’m not hungry.”

“Not even for a sandwich?”

I sighed but kept my eyes averted. His weight made the bed sink, and a flicker of annoyance moved through me that he was sitting beside me without asking. He sat there, completely still, waiting for me to break.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore—I reached out and peered in the bag. Inside were two white cardboard boxes that smelled amazing. My stomach flipped, and I glanced up, falling into the deepest blue gaze. There wasn’t a trace of the stern anger I’d seen earlier when he’d given me a verbal dressing down.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

His heavy lids flickered. “Think of it more as a pregame. I’m trying to get lucky.”

I frowned. Of course he was just trying to get laid. I balled my fists and pushed myself up against the pillows, sending him a sharp glare. He ignored me, taking out a box and flipping the lid open. Inside was a grilled cheese and warm potato wedges. My stomach growled loud enough that he could hear.

Smirking, he picked up a wedge and put it to my lips.

“Open,” he said quietly.

My lips parted, because it gave me a secret thrill when he talked like that. The taste of butter and parmesan and warm, fried potato filled my mouth. It took everything I had not to moan the way I had last night when I bit into that burger.

Mindlessly, I took a bite and chewed. The corner of his mouth jerked up, like he was so fucking pleased with himself. Fine, he could have this victory too. I took the box from him and burrowed into the blankets and pillows. He shifted so he was facing me and started eating.

“It’s not bad to be green,” he said.

“Green?”

“Inexperienced, wet behind the ears.”

Brimming with quiet rage, I bit into my sandwich.

“I’m going to tell you something, and if you tell anyone, I will end you,” he said.

That sparked my attention. I turned, taking in his stark gaze. He really was so handsome. He had big eyes, a beautiful facial structure with sharp cheekbones and a cut jaw, and the prettiest lashes I’d ever seen on a man. For the first time, I wondered if he knew it.

It was starting to dawn on me that there was more to him than met the eye.

“I’m good at people,” he said finally. “I had to be. Things were pretty rough growing up.”

I studied him, hoping he wasn’t tricking me again. His face was completely serious, and that muscle in his jaw was tight, like he was struggling with something.

“What…happened?” I asked.

He shrugged once. “My mother didn’t want my biological father in my life, so she never told him about me. My stepfather was a piece of shit.”

I stayed quiet, afraid I’d fuck up and tell him I knew that Merrick Llwyd was his father. He set the sandwich down, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows on them. His shoulder muscles tightened, apparent beneath his thin shirt, and I swallowed, trying not to stare.

“I went to prison, the UK’s version of juvie,” he said after a long time. “Got out and was out for a month, just long enough to turn eighteen and get sent back for two years.”

I hadn’t expected that. For some reason, I’d assumed that because Merrick was wealthy, Caden’s mother was privileged as well. Maybe he was right; maybe I’d judged him too harshly and too soon.

“You want to ask why?” he said softly.

I nodded, mouth dry.

The corner of his mouth jerked, but this time, it was just grim. “I beat my stepdad’s ass.”

A shiver tingled up my spine. “What…do you mean?”

“He put his hands on my mom constantly growing up,” he said, his voice freezing over. “She died, overdosed when I was around fifteen. My stepdad was a piece of shit, but I didn’t have a choice except to live with him. He swung at me one too many times one night, so I hit back.”

My jaw was on the floor. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

Darkness seeped into his eyes, like ink spilling into water. I felt his pain, like a silent chord reverberating deep inside him.

“That’s when they arrested me,” he said. “Then I got out, went to go get my stuff a month later. He was there, and he started…saying all this fucking shit about my mom. He pulled a gun. We were in the garage, and I just…I just flipped my shit. I was just done being his punching bag. I barely remember it, but I decided only one of us was going to walk away.”

My heart thumped. My stomach felt raw.

“What did you do?” My voice came out in a croak.

He lifted his eyes, narrowed and dark. “I beat him with a tire iron until he didn’t move. Then, I left.”

The silence was so intense, I could hear the air conditioning units whirring outside.

“You…killed him?” I whispered.

He sniffed. “He died, yeah.”

My stomach churned. I knew that the Welsh Mafia organization had different rules and ideas around killing, but it was just different staring the reality of it right in the face.

“You only got two years?” I managed.

“There were cameras in the garage; that’s how they found out it was me,” he said. “They caught him pulling the gun on me, and the judge ruled it self-defense but gave me two years because I had a record. It was confusing.”

“If it was self-defense. There should have been no jail time, right?” I said.

He shrugged. “Honestly, it worked out. Prison was rough, but I had nowhere to go. I had a bed and three meals until I got my head together.”

My hand was shaky as I reached out and hesitated, wondering if it was alright to touch him. He didn’t lift his head, so I pulled back, tangling my hands in a knot.

He ran a hand over his face. “Anyway, that taught me to read people really well or risk getting the shit kicked out of me. So count yourself lucky that you can afford to be green.”

He turned, shaking his head once, like he could just flick off those memories and move on.

“Anyway, eat before it gets cold,” he said with a huff.

Obediently, I bit into my sandwich. His gaze fell to my mouth, and I had to force myself not to squirm. I wasn’t used to being vulnerable in front of anyone. I rarely even let Delaney or Emmy see me without makeup. But here I was, with my hair in a messy knot, tired eyes, and a grilled cheese in my lap.

And he was looking at me like he was starving.

I swallowed hard.

“Sorry for assuming things about you,” I whispered.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“You should…eat too. It’s good.”

His eyes stayed on my mouth. “I could…eat.”

My heart was thumping so hard, I could hear it. “Eat what?”

His chest heaved. “You want me to make you feel good? You apologized for being presumptuous. Let me apologize for snapping at you.”

Between my legs, my clit tingled.

“I’m not your friend,” I managed. “We work together.”

He set his food aside, shifting closer. “I’d like to maintain a good working relationship, even if you are a little…condescending.”

“I am not.”

“Tell that to yourself.”

I gasped, and his hand shot out and gripped my hip, sliding quickly under my waistband to my bare skin beneath. With his other hand, he set my box aside and moved closer until he had me cornered against the headboard.

His eyes burned. “Let me eat your cunt, butterfly,” he said. “I’m hungry for you again.”

He had the dirtiest mouth, and I didn’t have the presence of mind for a comeback. So I just nodded, and he dipped in close, his lips inches from mine.

His lids flickered before he leaned in and kissed me, hungry and moaning in his throat as our tongues brushed. His tattooed fingers pushed boldly under my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head, baring my breasts to the cold room.

He bent, flicking his tongue across my nipples as my eyes fell and locked on the faded tire irons.

Fuck.

How many more horrifying tattoos had he covered up?

I didn’t have the time to think about it, because he pulled my sweatpants off, leaving me in a skimpy thong with a little pink bow on it.

Which he was…oh God, he was biting down on it and dragging my panties off my hips with his teeth.

I wriggled my thighs as the fabric dragged down, keeping them locked together to cover my sex. The tips of his fingers skimmed my calves, and goosebumps rose in their wake. My panties came away in his hand, crushed by his fist.

The same fist that had beat someone to death with a tire iron.

I swallowed hard.

That was self-defense. He’d protected himself.

His eyes locked with mine as he slid his palms over my knees. A bit of dark hair fell over his forehead. I hadn’t noticed up until now, but the irises of his eyes changed color like the sky. Cobalt blue one minute, then drenched black with desire the next.

He bent and kissed my knee, and his lips burnt like a brand.

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he said softly.

Head empty and pussy even emptier, I obeyed. Why did I always want to obey him without question when he was like this? All broody and hungry and dominating. It turned my head and made me forget my own name.

It didn’t hurt that I could see all those dark tattoos through his white shirt.

His lean fingers slid up my thighs, digging into the soft flesh. He kneaded gently as he went, and my muscles eased. My hips slid back, and he spilled me onto my back. The air left my lungs, the ceiling spun overhead, my thighs tensing as I hesitated. Then, I let his rough palm slide between my knees and open me to his gaze.

He’d seen me there before, but not like this.

Not with all the time in the world.

“Fuck,” he said softly.

I let my eyes fall shut. The tension in the room from our earlier disagreement was replaced by a different kind of tension, the kind that had his breath moving fast enough that I heard it. That made me feel the soft sheet against my back, my hair tickling the back of my neck. That made me remember the pattern of the ceiling overhead and hear the soft rush of sprinklers outside my window.

He bent, and warmth washed over my sex. Then, so gently I barely felt it, he kissed the inside of my thigh.

My toes curled—I’d forgotten how good he was with his mouth.

My head spun. My fingers moved down of their own accord and slid into his black hair, stroking gently, my fingers guiding his mouth closer to the place where I ached for it most.

He paused, and disappointment welled in my chest. My eyelids cracked open, and I peered down. He was laid out between my legs, one arm under my thigh and the other braced on the bed. Instinctively, I brushed aside the hair on his forehead.

His eyes glittered. “I get to do this as long as I want. That’s your punishment for doubting me.”

That didn’t sound like much of a punishment to me. If he was going to eat me, maybe I’d doubt him even harder next time. My mouth dry, I nodded, and his mouth cracked in a smirk.

“You hold on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m gonna put you to sleep again.”

“You’re awfully confident,” I gasped, his mouth grazing just above my clit.

He didn’t answer; he just curled his tongue over my clit and licked, long and slow, before pressing his mouth closer and sucking gently. My vision flashed, and my hips strained against his chin.

Oh God, I was right on the edge already.

He laughed, so deep in his throat that it was just a vibration. His tongue ran over my entrance, gathering all the wetness I couldn’t hold back. He moaned lasciviously as he did, like I was the best thing he’d ever had.

My head fell back.

He touched the entrance of my pussy, and my head spun as the tips of two fingers eased inside me. I was still tender from what he’d done to me last night, and it made his touch all the sweeter.

His mouth brushed my thigh as his fingers slid deeper, giving me time to adjust.

I’d never imagined Caden Payne could be so gentle.

Heart fluttering, I reached between my thighs and slid my fingers through his dark hair. He dropped his mouth to my clit and moaned as I stroked him. His fingers moved, flipping so he could caress my front wall.

My eyes widened as they alighted on that spot.

“That’s good,” I gasped.

He moaned again, this time with a hint of desperation. It hit me that he liked this more than I’d anticipated. His fingers moved slowly and with even pressure as his tongue lapped over my clit, hitting the perfect spot to make my hips rise.

“That’s it,” I gasped. “Right there.”

He loved it, I could tell in the way his other hand tightened on my hip like a quick reflex before it moved it up over my lower belly and pushed gently, sending a surge of pleasure through my sex.

My orgasm coiled and burst. My spine locked, lifting me up so violently, he had to push me back down to keep me still. His fingers and tongue never stopped, and my breath came in short gasps, my head spinning, vision flashing. When I came down to earth, my entire body felt like water.

He lifted his head, nuzzling my inner thigh. “Ready for the next one?”

All I could do was whimper. I caught a glimpse of his smirk as he lowered his head. Then, it was happening all over again—the buildup, the rhythm of his tongue and fingers pushing me towards the edge, the explosion of pleasure, the whimpers, the sweat dripping from his forehead to my lower belly.

God, it felt beautiful and primal.

Like standing in a temple. In the still-cool early morning.

Watching the incense rise to the sky.

In my haze, I thought I felt what he longed for—a place that belonged only to the two bodies wound together in this bed. No fear, no pressure, no painful memories, no secrets.

Just two bodies, two souls.

The night wore on. He only resurfaced when I was so exhausted, I could barely speak. Then, he slid between my legs and into me. His beautiful body moved in a slow beat like a drum, washing against me like a wave on the shore, taking and giving with every stroke.

He finished and rolled me into his arms, keeping his cock inside me as we fell asleep tangled in the sheets.