6. Cain

6

Cain

Mess her up.

All I can think about is ruffling Billie’s feathers. I want her sweating and nervous. It irritates me that she seems so put together, as if everything that happened between us didn’t affect her.

She tugs her granny gear around her body, a way of shielding herself, I suppose. But I like what she’s wearing underneath. It’s the old Billie—a mix of grunge and conservative housewife.

“I like your shirt,” I say as I make rings of O’s. “It’s a hell of a lot sexier than that beige. I always liked you in black, Tinkerbell. You should peel off the extra layer of bullshit.”

She looks good in her old lady sweater, a little too good for my liking. She’s wearing it to hide the curves of her body, curves that had me on my knees ten years ago. If I’m honest, she’d still have me begging now.

Billie Richmond is still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Not pretty in the conventional sense, but I think she’s drop-dead gorgeous. She’s smart, funny, and has a big fucking heart. A fucking ten, and I let her walk away. Something I’ve regretted every day for the last ten years.

I want to kick myself for being an asshole to her, but she also took whatever bullshit Lars threw at her. She laid down and played dead.

So did you.

The small voice in the back of my mind taunts me. Yes, well, at least I stayed. Sure, I could’ve fought him on the decision, but I’d just lost someone I loved to the Grim Reaper, and the thought of losing another petrified me.

It ate me up for years that I allowed her to walk away that night. I understand I’m not innocent in all this, but none of us is guilty. What happened to Trevor wasn’t our fault. Could we have stopped it? Maybe.

Trev had a fucking trunk load of issues, some I didn’t know about until it was too late. I never believed we were the reason he died, but the guilt of not being there for him eats at me daily. Then again, he never gave me the option to help him.

I push back my reverie and gaze at Billie.

She doesn’t say a word, but she’s frazzled. She never had much of a poker face. I track her with my eyes as she walks to the copious amounts of liquor and shuffles through the bottles before picking one. I raise an eyebrow as she fills a glass with vodka and adds a dash of juice, not sure why she bothered. It’s such a small amount of orange liquid that it doesn’t even change the color of the clear alcohol.

She heads toward one of the wingback chairs, placing the drink on the coffee table before she sits. “Okay, I thought we’d start with your musical influences today.”

Is she really going to sit here and treat us like a damn job? Musical influences? That’s not a fucking question you ask someone who used to fuck you into oblivion after not seeing them for almost a decade. That’s a question for a stranger.

My mask irritates my face and, like a vine, appears to be spreading to my scalp. Something that hasn’t happened in the eight fucking years I’ve worn it. “Is that all you want to ask, Billie?”

“Musical influences are important to the reader. So many have compared your music to influential bands. People would be interested to learn if any of them are bands you respect and enjoy.”

She’s talking to me like I’m a stranger. Another job where she needs to cross her t’s and dot her i’s.

I slowly rise from the chair and step toward her. Billie gazes up from her notes, her full bottom lip gripped between her teeth. I bend, getting right in her face. “Cut the bullshit, Tinkerbell.”

Billie leans back. “Pardon?”

“We aren’t some random rock band. Not to you,” I snap.

She tilts her head, staring at me like I’m nothing and no one. “Would you like to continue this interview at another time?”

She’s acting like we don’t matter to her, which has my head spinning. Regret and desire circle my veins like venom with the soul’s desire for destruction.

I lean into her, caging her on the spot. “You need a reminder of who you are, Tinkerbell. Seems like you’re suffering from amnesia.”

Billie licks her lips. “I’m well aware of who you are, Cain. I did what you told me to do. I walked away and pretended I didn’t know you. Now, please sit down so I can complete this assignment.”

I grab her nape and pull her close, my mouth at the shell of her ear. The scent of her invades my mind, infecting my nerve endings and taking me back to the last time I had her beneath me. Seconds tick by, but it seems like an eternity. All my bravado slips away, and my nerves take hold.

Billie fucking Richmond, the girl of my dreams, the untouchable memory right here in front of me.

I fill my lungs with the same air she breathes, a high all its own. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Tinkerbell, but you’ll never be able to lie to me. We will never be just another assignment to you.”

I glide my fingers through her long tresses, gripping them and yanking her head back. We stare at each other, pain, misery, longing, and lust dueling to see who’ll become the victor.

A single tear rolls down her soft, round face. “What do you want from me, Cain?”

I don’t respond with words. Instead, I brush her lips with mine, holding us frozen in the moment before I crush my mouth to hers. She tastes the same, like gummy bears and sunshine. I never grasped how someone could taste like a summer day, but Billie did.

She holds her mouth still at first, lips firm in a straight line, refusing to kiss me back. But then her body relaxes, and she sighs, allowing me access. Our tongues dance, unleashing pent-up passion, anger, and desperation.

I knew kissing her would be like fire, slowly rising until it swallowed me whole, but I never expected that the inferno she created would also be a siren song calling me home.

I pull away from her, breath heavy, gazing into her moss green eyes, the urge to fight and run battling within me. I’ll never understand how this woman still has a hold on me.

“You,” I whisper against her lips.

“What?” Billie asks. Her face is flushed, and her breathing speeds up.

I push away from her, needing the space to clear my head. “You asked me what I want from you.”

“I-I’ve got to go.” She rushes past me, ducking under my arms as she stumbles toward the door. But she stops abruptly when she sees Lars.

He smirks. “Where do you think you’re off to, Billie Goat Gruff?”

“Can you stop calling me that?” Billie huffs. “Get out of my way. You can’t keep me here against my will.”

Lars laughs. “Billie, cut the crap. If you wanted to leave here, you would. You would’ve called your editor as soon as you realized who we were and been on a plane back to New York.” He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward her. “You aren’t here for some stupid interview. You’re here for us.”

Billie crosses her arms and glares at Lars. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“I’d rather you be full of me,” he says, stepping toward her. Billie retreats until her back is flush against my chest, and Lars is pressed to her front. “Admit it, Billie. This is where you want to be. Between us.”

“So what? I enjoyed fucking you both. What’s that gonna do? We’ll fuck and go our separate ways. What’s that gonna accomplish? We still have a fucking tidal wave of issues. All that shit from the past is still there.”

I trail my fingers up her cardigan-covered arm until I reach the collar, sliding it from her shoulders and letting the fabric pool at our feet. “Look at you, Tinkerbell, all grown up with a filthy mouth. When did my good girl turn bad?”

Her head falls back on my chest as I trail kisses along her neck. “When you threw me out like trash.”