I lean my head back on his chest, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat, and the slow movement of his body as he breathes. He starts to stroke my hair, runs his fingers along the side of my face. It feels good.
“You know…” he ventures after what seems like a very long time, “I’ve never had anything quite like this.”
“What do you mean?” I want to see his face, but there’s not much point trying. It’s too dark, and I’d have to shift positions. I’m way too comfortable to move even if it means I can’t evaluate his expression.
“It’s kind of…” He seems to be groping for words. “It’s like family.”
“You never had a family?” It occurs to me I know almost nothing about Cain’s past. Everything I know about him begins when he first entered my father’s orbit.
“Not so much,” he says with a shrug, as if it’s no big deal. “My mom died when I was a kid—drunk driver. My dad… She said he died, but I think he just walked out on her. Anyway, after she died, I went into the system and I never managed to get back out.”
The words, delivered in a flat, matter-of-fact tone, bring tears to my eyes. “God, Cain. I’m so sorry.”
He offers another shrug. “Nothing you could do about it. Nothing anybody could do about it. I was acting out, a mess—nobody wanted to take that home with them. Just a fact of life.”
I wonder if anyone in his life has ever genuinely loved him. It’s too sad a question even to ask.
“I wonder if it’s worse,” I say quietly, “to not have a family at all or to have a family like…like mine.”
He draws me a little closer, kisses the top of my head. “I don’t know, sweetheart. There were foster families who seemed to care, and then there were families who didn’t give a shit as long as they got their check from the government. Some of the other kids… Well, let’s just say that’s where I first learned how to fight.”
I can’t even imagine. I’m already an emotional mess, and I have to fight back the tears just thinking about what his life must have been like. Still, I manage to ask him the next question in a steady tone. “What made you decide to fight professionally?”
His voice is very quiet. “Only thing I was any damn good at.”
Now I really am crying. I try to keep myself still in his arms, but I know he can feel it. He starts lacing his fingers through my hair in slow, soothing strokes.
“Hey, now,” he whispers. “None of that.”
“I can’t help it.” I can barely get the words out. “It’s just all been too much.”
He shifts behind me, turning so I have to move off his lap and down to the sand next to him. As his eyes meet mine, I can tell he’s genuinely concerned. “I know it’s been a long couple of days. But it’s all going to be all right. You’ll see.”
I shake my head. He keeps saying that, but it’s hard for me to believe him. This whole plan seemed so sensible when I thought of it; now it seems like a pointless act of rebellion that’s going to get us nowhere. “Pop’s going to kill me.”
His hand closes hard on my wrist. “No. I won’t let him.” Before I can protest, he’s kissing me hard, then he draws back, grasping my other wrist. “You don’t belong to him anymore. You’re mine. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“You can’t make any guarantees.”
“Oh, yes I can. You’re my wife. I’m responsible for you now. And nobody is going to lay a goddamn hand on you. Not even your father.”
I nod, but I don’t answer. I know we’re still in danger—the texts and messages from my father made that all too clear. But right now, right here, I just want to believe him. And when he kisses me I lean into it, losing myself in the taste and the feel of him.
The kiss is different from any we’ve ever shared before. Gentle. He strokes my face with one hand while he slowly, meticulously explores my mouth with his tongue. His hand cups my breast, his thumb circling my nipple, and I start to melt.
I’ve never been with anyone who knows how to hit my sexual buttons the way Cain does. Granted, I’ve never been with anyone enough times for them to learn me the way Cain has, but it’s more than that. He just seems to know, without being told. And yes, he’s pushy and domineering, but with him I feel protected, not threatened. I don’t know what makes the difference. All I know is that the idea of spending the rest of my life with him doesn’t scare me.
It probably should.
You can’t choose who you love. And that thought should scare me, too. Because who had ever said anything about love?
He slips his hands down my bare belly, fingers moving under the edge of my bikini bottom. They’re questing but not too urgent—just making their way slowly toward where we both want them to be. Moving a little in the sand, he shifts so he’s under me and I’m straddling him. I can feel his erection through the cloth of his swim trunks, and he starts to thrust his hips under me. I wonder if either of us thought to bring a condom with us, then decide it probably won’t matter much either way, not after what we did at the county clerk’s office.
He answers the question, though, drawing one out of his pocket and holding it up. I give him a twisted sort of smile and take it from his hand.
“I know,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“No. Probably not.” I don’t bother to point out that I made no effort to protest at the time. To be honest, it had been a surprise, but in the long run I don’t mind. I kind of like the idea of having his baby.
But what does he think about that? He’d been the one who’d decided to bareback it, so I have to assume he’s okay with the idea, too.
That’s a thought for later. Or never, since most likely nothing will come of it. I lean over him and kiss him—his mouth, his face, his neck—moving my hips so his cock rubs up and down between my legs. It feels good—not just the sensation but the lack of urgency. It’s languid and easy, and he goes with the flow.
I can hear the waves lapping against the sand, and I match their slow rhythm. It’s a little too slow, to be honest, but I stay at that pace for a long time, just reveling in the way his body feels against mine. In the moonlight I can barely see the outlines of his tattoos against his skin. Stroking his chest, his arms, I can barely feel them here and there, vague lines just under the skin.
Finally I can’t stand it anymore. He seems to have reached the end of his endurance as well, his hands closing tighter on my arms, the movement of his hips more urgent, low, anxious sounds coming from him.
I reach down between us and find him, then push down his trunks. My bikini bottom is so scant it’s no effort at all to move it out of the way. I ease the condom over him, letting my fingers trace the heavy veins in his cock as I roll it into place. He gasps and says my name in a harsh whisper.
“Cain,” I answer, and kiss him as I slide him inside me.
I can feel the water on my toes now, as the tide comes farther in. It caresses my feet as I move on him, bringing him deeper and deeper, until finally we both break apart with a low, shared cry that echoes the sound of the waves.
We lie there for a while, just quiet in each other’s arms. It’s so different from anything else we’ve ever shared, and in those moments I feel as quiet and at peace as I ever have in my life.
I can’t help but hope it’s a sign of a new beginning. For both of us.
#
In the morning we dress quietly, moving around each other like it’s some kind of choreographed dance we’ve done every morning for years. Cain catches me at one point and kisses me, caresses my breasts, but he doesn’t push it. I wonder why, since he always seems to want sex, but then he says, “We’re going out for breakfast.”
We do that, eating crepes and fruit on a patio where we can watch the ocean. The strawberries are sweet and unbelievably juicy, the crepes so light they’re like eating air. After, Cain talks to the concierge, and within an hour there’s a car outside.
“Where are we going?” I ask him. Sightseeing is fine with me, but I can tell he’s got something specific on his mind. He just smirks at me, though, and doesn’t tell me a thing. Typical. I’ll let him get away with it for now.
Eventually we’re in the main part of town, and the car pulls up in front of a jewelry store. I catch my breath, realizing what he’s up to. Hearing it, he gives me a grin.
“Didn’t think I was going to forget, did you?”
“I didn’t think it was important. I mean, we signed the papers.”
“No way is my wife walking around without a wedding ring.”
Well, okay, then. I follow him inside.
We squabble over the rings for a bit. He wants me to wear a big diamond; I want no such thing. A plain gold band is more than enough for me. Finally he tells me to wait in the car.
“Fine,” I tell him. I normally don’t like being ordered around, but when Cain does it I don’t mind nearly as much. “You come out with a big diamond, though, and you’re sleeping in the bathtub tonight.”
He kisses me soundly. “I’d like to see you try to make me.”