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Lola
I toss a pair of jeans into the enormous suitcase that dominates my bed. Denim? It’s crazy. I’ve always been a silk and suit kind of girl. Moving to the Midwest has opened my eyes to a more relaxed wardrobe. I’ve even purchased a couple of yoga pants to wear outside the gym.
Am I ready to see my father again? My fingers shake. It’s crazy, but I’m more anxious about seeing him than trying to foil a robbery attempt. Until I’d refused to marry Trenton, I’d never defied my father. I love him and don’t want to displease him, but I can’t go through with it. Can I continue to disobey him from the same zip code? The same house? That’s why I moved halfway across the country. I’m not sure I’m strong enough not to cave.
I grab an evening gown out of the closet. My doorbell clangs throughout the house. I walk to the entryway and peek through the peephole. Cade. Damn him. I’m not in the mood to speak to him. I twist on my heel and march back to the bedroom. The man is out of his mind if he thinks I’m going on a date with him. I’m not falling for that macho bullshit.
Bang. Bang. The door rattles from the weight of whatever he’s hitting the surface with. “Lola, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” Cade’s voice is muffled and barely audible through the door.
Fine. If he wants to talk, I’ve got plenty to say. I stomp back to the front door, unfasten the deadbolt, and swing the door open. “What do you want?”
He sticks his booted foot inside the doorframe. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have responded the way I did.”
I inhale the scent of his aftershave and feel my resolve fading. Fuck. When did I get a weakness for men’s health magazines and hard-headed men? Nothing good can come from a non-relationship relationship with him. But damn, the man makes me wish for things that aren’t good for me.
“I accept your apology. Now, I need to pack. After thinking about the whole ‘no-strings’ thing.” I use my fingers to make imaginary quotation marks when I say the word ‘no-strings.’ “I think it’s a bad idea. We’re not compatible.” See, I can do this. I’m strong. My eyes stray over his body. The fabric of his shirt stretches tight over his chest, clinging to the angles of his body. His jeans are even tighter. Holy hell. And those eyes. Thank God he’s not smiling.
My first instinct when Mr. Truman said Cade should go with me back home was excitement. The thought of spending the weekend with him away from work was thrilling until I remembered my father. He would take one look at Cade and give him the third degree, and that would be the last time I’d see Cade–dealing with a Congressman and the FBI is too much to ask.
Maybe, if we’d already established a relationship, he might be the exception. However, to ask him to submit to that type of scrutiny when he doesn’t want a long-term relationship would not end well. I’ll end up with a broken heart. Just end it now before anyone gets hurt.
His gaze travels over my body, resting on all the parts that desperately ache for his touch before returning to my mouth. My body explodes with desire as every inch of me tingles and throbs. Where did your resolve go?
“Oh, I think we’re compatible.” The deep rumble of his voice goes straight to my clit, causing it to pulsate in time with my heartbeat.
Don’t. You can do this. I frown and cross my arms over my chest. “Physical attraction isn’t enough. We’re both adult enough to control that portion of ourselves.”
“Are we? I always thought I was, but for some reason around you.…” He lets the door shut behind him. “I can’t seem to find that restraint.”
His presence steals the air from the room, and dampness pools between my legs. My tight nipples rub against the fabric of my bra. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I stop wanting to touch him? To be touched by him. He’s a pain in the ass.
He strokes his hands down my arms, and I moan, “This is not a good idea.” But for some reason, I don’t give a fuck. Why don’t I care? I should care. Damn it. I should be stronger than my body’s response to him.
When his head dips lower, he says, “Maybe we shouldn’t think for a second.”
This is a bad idea.
Fuck it. I surge forward, smashing my lips against his. As his tongue slips between my lips and tangles with mine, all rational thought flies out the window. His hands slide under my shirt and trail across my sensitive flesh.
As his touch teases me mere inches from my tight nipples, I tremble. Touch me before I scream. As if he can read my mind, his thumb rubs across the lace covering my breast. Much better. I gasp and moan into his mouth, and he sucks it down like he needs me to live.
I fist his T-shirt to keep upright. It’s been a long time since I’ve been intimate with anyone. And none of those guys was anything like Cade. They weren’t big and strong and stealing my resolve. After I yank his T-shirt out of his jeans, I stroke his abs.
“God, I want you.” His tongue trails down my throat, and his hot breath makes my entire body shudder. I relish each contour of his sculpted front before he cups my ass, drawing me nearer. His cock grinds against my belly.
Stop before you go too far. Before you forget, you’re mad at him. He raises me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Don’t be stupid. Stopping would be short-sighted. He carries me to the sofa and lays me on the cushions.
Lord, have mercy. I’ve died and gone to heaven. The man is a work of art. What in the world have I gotten myself into? If I’m not careful, I’m going to explode or pass out looking at his thick thighs, washboard abs, and massive biceps. And all of him is still covered.
Shit. I need to hit the gym. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I can’t be with you.”
“What?” He crosses his arms, and his forehead wrinkles as something besides frustration flashes over his face. Disappointment? Hurt? Whatever it is, I need to tell him the truth.
I rub my hand over my face. “I can’t have a sexual relationship with you and not have it mean something.”
The irritation and unnamed emotion drop from his face. “I was giving you an out.”
“An out?”
